by Lexi Ward
She tried not to tense up or let Dylan know anything was wrong, but she wondered how the hell she could have forgotten something like her birth control. She’d had a couple of close calls with her last boyfriend, and nothing had ever come from it. Surely, this situation would be no different, she figured.
She rested her head on Dylan’s chest and listened as his heart slowed and his breathing evened out. The rhythm of his body threatened to put her to sleep, but she didn’t mind. She was comfortable where she was.
“I probably need to get back,” Dylan’s voice said above her in the darkness of her room, bringing her fantasy evening to an end.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I understand you and my daughter went out last night,” Coach Armstrong said to Dylan in his office the next morning.
Coach had sent the usual clipboard-wielding staff member to pull Dylan from the room he shared with Ty, who had obviously been assigned to Dylan to help keep him straight. That plan didn’t seem to be working, Dylan realized. It was the end of the first week of training, and he was already sitting down to have a heart-to-heart with his new coach.
“Let me refresh your memory a little here. When I offered you the opportunity to come on board with us, I told you I was concerned with the reputation you earned back in college. Do you remember that?” Coach Armstrong sat with his hands fingers intertwined on his desk.
“Yes, sir, I remember that,” Dylan admitted. Dylan knew this conversation well. He was going to be told that if he ever did anything like that again, punishment would be swift and severe. It was the same thing every year. Usually, by the end of the season, his coach would forget all about his transgressions in favor of his performance on the field.
“Do you remember what I told you then about what was expected of you here?” Coach asked.
“Yes, sir. You said that you expected me to be on my best behavior, sir,” Dylan answered.
“I told you I expected you to act as a professional. You are a representative of this team, Dylan. Your behavior reflects on everyone here. Your behavior yesterday and last night was anything but professional.” Coach Armstrong’s voice grew more and more irate as he talked.
Here it comes, Dylan thought. He braced himself for his coach’s punishment. He was prepared to seem devastated, though he was sure that nothing Coach would do would actually change his behavior. It never changed.
“Mr. Green, the NFL is a very competitive organization. Each season we filter the impressive talent from colleges across the country to find the right fit for each team. You know yourself, out of the scores of players in our universities, only a handful get picked to come to practice each season. What I don’t think you realize is that only a very select few of those actually wind up on the field.” Dylan’s veins ran cold as Coach Armstrong’s tone changed and became more serious.
“Dylan, I’m sorry. I don’t think there’s a place for you here. You are a great athlete, but I think you’ve got some growing up to do before you’re ready to go pro.”
His words came crashing down on Dylan’s shoulders. All of the pride he’d felt for making it this far was sucked right out of him, and he sort of slumped over in the chair across from Coach Armstrong. He didn’t know what to say. He was an outstanding player. He knew that. He never once even considered that his conduct would get him fired from a team.
“I’m sorry, Dylan. My assistant has already gathered your things from your room. I’ve bought a bus ticket to get you back home.” Coach Armstrong slid the ticket across the desk and got up to walk Dylan to the door.
On his way out, his biggest regret was that he’d lost so much more than just the opportunity to play pro. He could play pro anywhere. He’d call his agent on the bus ride home and see what he could come up with. The game wasn’t the issue; it was Sable. She had been the first person here who had really treated him with any sort of respect. He didn’t want to run out on her when there was the promise of so much more than just that one night.
“Coach, I’d like to…to say goodbye…to Sable, if I may,” he said hesitantly as they reached the door to the parking lot where the bus waited on him.
“Son, do yourself a favor and forget about her. She deserves better than a punk kid who can’t keep it in his pants.” Coach Armstrong turned away from Dylan with a look of disgust on his face and closed the door as he walked back into the training facility.
With his duffel bag and ticket in hand, Dylan boarded the bus back to his hometown in South Georgia. He knew he would be leaving Sable for good if he didn’t figure something out, and soon.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was a year later, and Dylan had just flown into town for a business convention that had been scheduled to coincide with the start of football season. He was there to represent the sports marketing firm he’d joined after his agent had refused to return his calls. He was still in the game, and his clients knew it.
The convention center was attached to the stadium, so there was a lot of traffic moving between the game and the convention. Dylan knew the organizers were hoping that some of the coaches, owners, and other important team staff members would catch a glimpse of what the companies present had to offer.
“Hey, shouldn’t you be out on the field?” one of the organizers asked as he walked by Dylan’s booth.
“Yes, sir, but I figured I might be able to help them make more money with my company, Pro Sports Marketing Solutions. We don’t like to shorten the name, though.” Dylan smiled and shook his friend’s hand.
“Good to see you, Dylan. I’m glad you guys could make it out. I know it must be awkward being on this side of it today, but what’s the sport without the fans, right?” Caleb Corso had been Dylan’s roommate during their freshman year of college. By the end of their junior year, he’d already founded the company that had organized the convention. They organized events of all types all over the country.
“Yeah, man, it’s good to be here. I hope they do well today, but more importantly, I hope I do well today,” Dylan said with a laugh.
“You’re a riot, Dylan. Hey, I’ll be back around later. Let’s catch up before you leave town.” Caleb waved as he walked off and greeted a fan passing by.
Dylan watched as people walked past the convention booths with their faces held steadily forward in an effort to ignore the representatives trying to get their attention. Eventually, the steady flow of traffic became a blur of anonymous faces and figures passing by.
Then, one face stood out among the rest, but it couldn’t have been who he thought it was. The dark, petite figure with her black curls pushed a baby stroller, but he could have sworn it looked like Sable. He couldn’t see her light brown eyes, though, because she wore sunglasses as she walked by. She didn’t seem to notice him either.
Dylan hadn’t forgotten about her over the last year. He’d thought about calling her many times, but he never got up the nerve. He was too embarrassed about the way he had just left town; he didn’t know what he would’ve said if he had the chance to talk to her.
Sable’s anonymous doppelganger haunted him all afternoon. He shut his booth down early and went to enjoy the game in front of one of the big screen TV’s in the lounge the convention vendors had access to.
She was there, sitting at a table with the stroller. He walked by slowly with a stout beer from the bar at the end of the lounge, conveniently heading to a table on the other side of her. Her sunglasses sat on the table with a large purse, probably full of supplies for the baby. She turned and grabbed the glass of soda on her table as he passed, and their eyes met.
“Dylan?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was her.
“Sable,” he said. He approached and put his bottle on the table. He wrapped his arms around her.
“It’s been, what, about a year now?” she asked as she pulled away from the embrace. He noticed there were no rings on her fingers, which was encouraging, he thought.
“Yeah, about a year. I see you’ve got a little one
with you now.” He peeked around her at the adorable light-skinned baby snoozing in the stroller.
“Yeah, he’s my world these days. His name is Darryl. It’s sort of a twist on his dad’s name. Do you want to see him?” Her face lit up while she talked about her son.
“I, uh…uh, babies aren’t really my thing,” Dylan stammered, but she already had the baby in her arms and was handing him over.
Dylan looked down into the baby’s little sleeping face. It was crazy how natural it felt to cradle someone so small and fragile in his arms. He suddenly felt very protective over the little guy snuggled against his chest.
“How old is he?” Dylan asked.
“He’s about four months old, going on five,” Sable said, scrunching up her nose.
“Where’s his dad?” Dylan asked awkwardly. He didn’t want to offend her with the question, but he also didn’t want to be surprised by Darryl’s dad popping up while he was sitting with Sable.
“I…uh…um, he’s…he’s around,” she stammered, suddenly nervous and unsure of what to say.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, Sable. I didn’t mean to pry,” Dylan apologized.
“Don’t apologize, Dylan. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you get to meet Darryl,” she said and placed a gentle hand on his arm. Her touch relaxed every fiber of his being. He knew he was where he was supposed to be.
“Wait, you’re glad I get to meet him?” His mind drifted back to the night they had together, the night they’d had each other, and he looked back down at the beautiful baby boy resting peacefully on his arm. He looked over the boy’s light skin. He looked back up at Sable and saw the tears welling up in her eyes.
She nodded and ran a hand down the arm cradling his son. She leaned over to Dylan, and their lips met. He wrapped his free arm around her and held her close with their son between them.
“It’s been so long, Dylan,” she said breathlessly.
“It has, Sable. Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have been mad. I would have been on the first bus or plane back,” he told her.
“I didn’t know what to do. The way you left, Dylan, I didn’t know what to think. I thought I had done something wrong. It wasn’t until later that I found out my father had run you off for going out with me.” Tears started to flow from her beautiful eyes.
“Well, I’m back now, and I’m not going anywhere this time, Sable,” Dylan said, kissing her soft, luscious lips again. He meant what he said, more than he had ever meant anything else in his life.
Over the last year, as he made the transition from football to business, he’d felt lost every step of the way. Meanwhile, in his absence, this place had become his home, complete with his new family. This was where he should have been the whole time.
THE END
The Quarterback’s Secret Baby
CHAPTER ONE
I’m from Small Town, Texas, and no, that is not a joke – that’s its real name. It looks and feels exactly like what you would imagine - a small town with about 3,000 residents. There are only three schools - one elementary, one middle school and one high school. The same people have been working the same jobs for as long as I can remember. It’s the kind of place that when you leave you never come back, but if you stay, like me, you’re stuck…forever.
I drudged up the dirt pathway, made from the years of foot traffic to open the Greasy Spoon Diner. After ten years of working here Dottie finally trusted me to open in the morning. When she first told me I couldn’t help but be excited, I mean…she didn’t trust anyone to open her beloved diner. Now, at five in the morning, when dawn had barely cracked, I was opening this restaurant. I could almost predict my day to a T. At 6:00 am, the cowboys would slowly pool in for coffee, always ordering the same thing. The few not lucky enough to have wives would order breakfast or confirm that they’ll be ordering lunch. Around 7:00, the few stragglers would come in, needing a hot meal before work, before I would get a blessed hour of peace from 9:00 – 10:00. After that starts the feeding frenzy for lunch, and that doesn’t calm down until 3:00….which is thankfully when I finish for the day.
“Morning Maddie,” Sal says, patting me hard on the behind, per tradition.
“It’s too early for that Sal,” I say, exhausted already.
“Nonsense, it’s never too early for a little shake to go along with my eggs.”
“It’s fries.”
“So you agree. Come here so I can get some more.”
I could only sigh and shake my head before walking back to the kitchen to deliver the orders.
I took the orders, passed them off to Flo, our morning cook. As cliché as it may seem, there was something comforting about the gum smacking woman with over-fluffed red hair firmly stuck in the 1980s.
“Let me get a hot blonde in sand, (coffee with cream and sugar), Adam & Eve on a raft and wreck ’em with a side of Noah’s boy (two scrambled eggs on toast with ham).”
Flo rung up the orders with the speed of God and dished out the plates. Diner lingo was essential to our functional operation. Daisy ran the register but most of our customers paid in cash and rarely tipped. Thankfully, Dottie paid me a little above the statewide wage for servers. Even with her charity, though, I barely made ends meet.
I finally stepped aside for my break, shaking like I needed a cigarette. I would if it wasn’t such a costly habit. I suppressed the urge with my phone.
Text message? Who the hell talks to me? If I didn’t need to always be available, I wouldn’t even have a phone.
Hey, bestie. - 10:14 am Cara.
Cara Shields, the most beautiful woman in the world. It might seem like I was exaggerating but I wasn’t. She was one of those girls that got everything they ever wanted, and I couldn’t be mad because she was as humble as they come. If I wasn’t so prideful, we wouldn’t have lost contact over all these years. After staring at the screen longer than I should and procrastinating with a short game of Angry Birds, I responded.
Hey. - 10:32am
Good God, she lives. Where you been Madkins? - 10:33am
Haha. Look I’m on break for a few more minutes. - 10:35 am
Ok then here’s the gist….I’m getting married! - 10:35 am
What?! - 10:37 am
I know! And I want you there. I’m having the wedding in Small Town, and I BETTER SEE YOU THERE. - 10:38 am
You don’t even have to be a part of it. It’s a little last minute, so I’m not having any bridesmaids, but I’ve just got to have you there. - 10:39 am
I couldn’t even respond I was so shocked.
Please say yes. It’s been too long girl. I just want to see your face on the happiest day of my life. - 10:41 am
The guilt trip was real. What could I say but yes?
Of course I’ll be there. - 10:42 am.
Perfect. The time and date are in your email. - 10:42 am
With that, I resigned myself back to torture and entered the frenzy of lunch hour.
I’m sure I looked as haggard as I felt. I was running between the food counter and few tables in the establishment, serving drinks and yelling orders at Flo. Shira, the lunch shift server, came in to help, but there was just more mouths to feed than working hands.
“Let me get an M.D. (Dr. Pepper), 2 Atlanta specials, (Coca Cola), mother and child reunion (chicken and egg sandwich), and burn one, take it through the garden and pin a rose on it (hamburger with lettuce, tomato).
By the time I dragged myself home everything hurt. I wanted to cry, but I had to put on a brave face. Before my key could turn, the door flung open, and something attacked my legs.
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”
I bent to pick up the Tasmanian devil. “Hey, my love. Where’s the fire?”
She giggled and buried her small head into my neck. “There’s no fire. Allie would have put it out. I missed you, Mommy. What you do today?” She eyed me with innocence and chubby cheeks, and I couldn’t help kissing her.
“What do you think I did today?”
�
�I think you fed all the hungry people,” she said, and I grinned.
“That’s right.”
Allie, my babysitter, came around to lock the door behind me. “How are you doing Ms. Williams?” Allie wore her hair in a short stylish black bob. For someone so young, she radiated beauty. She was poised and articulate….the epitome of a proper Texas lady.
“Just fine Allie. Thanks for asking.”
I collapsed on the couch. “How was she today?” I asked her, taking in her poreless face. Even without makeup she had no dark circles under her eyes. I didn’t have to look in the mirror to know I would scare myself.
“She was great,” Allie said, bending down to braid Emmy’s dirty brown hair.
“Just great,” I said before grabbing my purse to pay her.