Full Court Press

by J Akridge

  Full Court Press

  J. Akridge

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  FIVE YEARS EARLIER

  “Kyle. I think my water just broke.” I lean against the kitchen counter; contractions are beginning to move rapidly through my body. It’s unlike any pain I have ever felt before. My teeth grind together but the pain continues on until the contraction passes.

  “And? What do you want me to do? If it broke, get in the car,” He tosses, never moving his eyes from the TV screen in his small apartment. When a basketball game is on, he can’t be bothered by anything else.

  It wasn’t always this way. When we first met, he was sweet. He always opened doors for me and would take me on sweet, romantic date nights. Then after a year into our relationship, everything changed. He became the mean, human being I’m staring at now. There is always something wrong with anything I do. I can’t even cut my damn steak to his perfection and he lets it be known.

  I dress wrong. I speak wrong. I call my parents too often.

  Then I found out I was pregnant. While I don’t regret getting pregnant with this baby, I do regret who I got pregnant by. But still, I hoped things would change. I hoped this baby would open his eyes and revert him to the way he used to act when we first began our relationship. Wishful thinking is my downfall.

  “Are you not going to drive me?” I ask in disbelief. This cannot be happening. Of all times for him to be an ass, he has to do it when I’m in the process of giving birth to his child? “I’m not sure it’s safe to drive in this condition, Kyle.”

  “Then call your parents, they’ll be thrilled to drive you, I’m sure.” Again, his eyes never leave that damn screen. He always makes small jabs at my parents, poking fun at how close we are and how much they help me. I assume these emotions are rooted from not having any parents himself throughout his life. My parents have never seen eye to eye with Kyle; I should have listened to them when they told me he was no good for me, but I was stubborn and thought I was in love.

  “Kyle.” His name rolls past my lips with menace. He’s still unfazed.

  “Kyle,” I repeat, raising my voice slightly. Still nothing.

  “KYLE!” I shout. This causes him to turn his head slowly. He looks me in the eyes, and I can tell he’s pissed at my outburst, but dammit, I am in labor.

  “I’m watching the fucking game, Kelsi. If you can’t fuckin’ wait, get in your damn car and leave. I don’t have time for your shit anymore.” His gaze moves back to the basketball game. He raises a beer bottle to his lips and takes a long swig, his eyes darting to mine. Anger flashes across his face.

  It’s in this moment that I realize I cannot raise a child with this man. Nothing good could possibly come from it and I cannot continue to put myself through this misery. The type of father he will be is not something my child will benefit from. I am so furious with myself for allowing this type of behavior to be normal to me for this long.

  The contractions are coming quicker and quicker. I swipe my keys from the counter beside me and walk toward the door, stopping just before I step over the threshold.

  “Are you going to come to the hospital?” I ask, giving him one last chance to make this right. One last chance to come with me and put it all behind us.

  He chooses to ignore me. His pregnant girlfriend. His pregnant girlfriend who is currently in labor. The same pregnant girlfriend who is about to drive herself to the hospital to give birth.

  I turn on my heel, closing the door behind me with a slam. Fuck him.

  I climb into my car before the tears roll down my cheeks. I shouldn’t be crying for that dickhead, but dammit it hurts all the same. My baby doesn’t deserve to be raised by an inconsiderate prick.

  I dial my mom’s number; she answers on the second ring.

  “Hi, baby. How’re you?” Mom has such a sweet southern drawl to her voice; it instantly calms me, just like it has my entire life. My mom has always been an amazing woman. She supported my sister and me in anything we wanted to achieve.

  “Mom. I need you. My water just broke in Kyle’s apartment, I’m about to head to the hospital now.” I choke out the last part as another contraction barrels through.

  “Okay, honey. We’re on our way. Just breathe. Get there safely.” She disconnects the phone call and I drop it into the cup holder beside me. I shift into reverse and pull out of Kyle’s driveway. I don’t even bother looking in the rearview mirror as I pull away.

  Once I get to the hospital, I barely make it to the receptionists desk.

  “Can I help you?” An elderly woman asks as she pushes her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose.

  “I’m Kelsi Fran, my water just broke and the contractions are-” I don’t get my words out before collapsing onto a passing nurse. I’m moved into a wheelchair and rushed away to Labor and Delivery.

  It took a total of fifteen minutes for my sweet baby to arrive. Labor was too quick for an epidural so I gave birth naturally and felt every damn part of it. Three pushes and he was out, a baby boy I named Carson Andrew. The nurse places him on my chest and I’m overwhelmed at the natural love I feel for this tiny being so quickly.

  His little body is tucked under my hospital gown and warmth spreads across my chest. I nuzzle his little face with my cheek and place a delicate kiss to his ear. He has a head full of dark hair and the most perfect little lips I’ve ever seen. His cheeks are full and smooshed against me.

  There’s a knock at the door, I glance up and my heart stops. Just as I’m thinking Kyle finally made it, made it to meet our little, perfect boy, my parents step around, coming into view. My mom already has tears in her eyes, and she takes in the scene before her. Her baby, with a baby. Our eyes connect and I feel the tears form in mine.

  “Hi,” I whisper. My mom tosses her purse into the chair beside the hospital bed and slowly approaches, tears streaming down her face as she gets her first good look at her grandson. Dad follows behind, moving to my other side. His giant hand cradles Carson’s hospital cap. The image causes me to think about how I’m the only one in this world who this little boy will one-hundred percent rely on his entire life.

  “You did good, peanut.” Peanut. I love that nickname. He’s called me this my entire life, never faltering and only using my real name when I was in trouble.

  “Thanks, Daddy.” I smile up at him as he kisses my cheek.

  “Baby, where’s Kyle?” my mom asks, tearing her eyes away from Carson long enough to look around the room and realize there is no Kyle. I glance to the clock in front of my bed; it’s been three hours and he hasn’t arrived yet. The game should have ended a while ago, and yet he still isn’t here. I grab my phone beside me, no missed calls.

  He didn’t even bother calling.

  I look back to my mom, her tears falling quicker now. She glances from me to Carson.

  “He’s not coming, Momma,” I sigh in defeat. “He chose a stupid, fucking basketball game over the birth of his son.”

  “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.” She squeezes my hand as the nurse steps ov
er to take Carson.

  “We just need to borrow this little guy for a bit, Momma. He needs a bath and we’re going to get all his labs while he is down in the nursery with us. We will bring him back before his next feeding,” she says as she gently pulls my sweet boy from my chest. A chest that was once filled with warmth and love and is now filled with hatred for the man who helped create that angel.

  Once the door clicks shut, my parents round on me.

  “Tell us everything.” And so, I do. I tell them how I had been cleaning his house all day, because the plan was to stay at his place the first week with Carson. I wanted everything to be perfect for when we brought him home and Kyle’s house is nothing more than a bachelor pad. I mention how the Hawks game was on and he couldn’t be bothered to even drive me to the hospital once my water broke. I go on to explain how he all but told me to go to hell and how I walked out and drove myself to the hospital. My father is livid by the end of my story, pissed I didn’t call him to drive me. My mother is heartbroken for her youngest daughter. It’s written all over her face and now I understand it all too well. I couldn’t imagine Carson coming to me with a story similar to this one.

  “Well, he’s a damn idiot. That boy doesn’t need a piece of shit like him anyways. He drinks way to fucking much and doesn’t give a shit about anything in life. Obviously.” My dad gestures around the room to prove his point. You can see the steam blowing out of my daddy’s ears.

  Stupid Hawks and their stupid basketball.

  “Don’t you dare list that prick’s name on the birth certificate, peanut. I won’t stand for it. He doesn’t deserve the title.” I glance at Mom, who slowly nods, as do I. He’s right, if he isn’t even going to bother to call, what’s the point?

  I’ll do this all on my own. I only have a couple semesters left in my Bachelor’s degree, then I can get a teaching job at Rocky Elementary School with my sister.

  “Until then, you can just stay with us. We’ll help, peanut. Don’t you worry.”

  The floodgates open at that statement. Don’t you worry. But how can I not?

  Chapter Two

  PRESENT DAY

  “C’mon, heifer. Let’s go. Tip-off is in forty-five minutes!” I hear Jennifer yell as I’m turning the lock on my small, dainty house. I just purchased it a few months ago and I’ve been working non-stop trying to get it perfect.

  I refuse to have my parents feel the need to support me; they’ve worked their entire lives and aren’t exactly the top of the tier. Mom is a retired school teacher and Dad is a recently retired police chief. We were well taken care of when we were younger, but we weren’t frugal with our spending either. That’s why my home is a small, two-bedroom bungalow. It’s tiny, but spacious for me and my son, Carson.

  When we moved in, I told him he could do his room in anything he wanted. I had been saving for years to get us out of our old apartment. Carson needed a yard to run and play in. This house just so happened to be perfect and the price wasn’t nearly as high as I had budgeted to spend, which left me a little room to buy us a few things we didn’t necessarily need but deserved. Carson, of course, chose a basketball-themed room. So, that’s what he got. It’s so hard for me not to deem all things basketball related forbidden in our home, but Carson doesn’t know the reason behind my hatred for the sport.

  “Kelsi,” Jennifer whines from the passenger seat, drawing out my name.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.” I trot down the sidewalk and toss my suitcase in the open trunk of Chrissy’s car. I run around and hop in beside Gabby in the backseat.

  “Finally. Let’s go!” Chrissy, my sister, yells with her head out the window.

  It probably should embarrass me that my sister is hanging from the window of a car in my new neighborhood with my elderly neighbor standing outside staring but, this is just Chrissy. She’s been this way for our entire lives.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Gabby asks, not bothering to look up from her Kindle.

  “Tip off is at seven, then we can just hit the bars on the strip. I’ve already checked us into the hotel so we’re good there.” Chrissy always has our traveling lined out to a T. “How’s Carson, Kels?”

  I turn at the mention of my son’s name. He’s four, almost five, and he won’t let you forget it. He’s extremely energetic and at the moment completely pissed off at me because I’m attending an Atlanta Hawks game and he’s stuck at home. But, staying with his Mimi and Peepaw seemed to turn that frown upside down. Truthfully, I'm not too thrilled to be attending a game either.

  “He’s good. Pissed about the game but happy to be with Mom and Dad.”

  “That’s good, I know he has missed them. I wasn’t sure they’d ever return from their cruise.” She shifts the car onto the interstate and several vehicles blare their horns at her. “Oh, fuck off!” She throws her middle finger toward the back glass, as if anyone could see it through the tinted windows.

  “Jesus, Chrissy!” I shout from the backseat, gripping the headrest in front of me to keep from slamming against the window. My sister has always been a horrible driver. My dad tried to teach her how to drive when she turned fifteen and gave up after five minutes of being in a car with her and paid for extra driver’s education courses just so he didn’t have to be in the same car with her. By the grace of God, she somehow managed to get her license, but I still think she flirted with the instructor because there is no way she passed with her driving skills.

  “What? They were being dicks.” She laughs and shortly we all join in, acting as if we almost didn’t die from her driving abilities. I can’t complain, I never offer to drive and neither do the others, so we put ourselves in this situation each time. Which is why you’ll always find me in the backseat if the four of us go anywhere. I feel it’s safer than sitting shotgun next to her.

  “Have you seen King and Prince lately? They’ve been tearing up the court.” Jen is obsessed with basketball. Follows her “lovely Hawks,”' as she calls them, on every social media platform they have. “And CalKing is so damn fine. I’d lick him if I had the opportunity.” She fans herself with her hand and we laugh. Jennifer is the most outgoing of the four of us. She has no problem telling a guy what she is thinking of them, meanwhile I can barely form words when speaking to anyone.

  I, on the other hand, rarely have time to watch a TV show for myself. I’m so behind on Keeping Up with The Kardashians, I’m not even sure what season is actually airing on television right now. If I’m not with my twenty-three students, I’m home with Carson and all we ever do is watch Space Jam and Jurassic World. By the time I tuck his tiny little body in at night, it’s time to clean up supper, fold some laundry, and get our things ready for the next day. I don’t have time for myself and usually end up falling asleep in a pile of clean clothes.

  “Those boys are so fine!” Chrissy shouts. My sister is similar to Jennifer.

  “What are you working on over here?” I lean toward Gabby, who now has her laptop open, typing away. She has her glasses on and her hair thrown to one shoulder, so I know she’s concentrating hard.

  “I’m working on my book.” She pushes the rim of her glasses back up and begins typing away again. Gabby is a romance author and has been tearing up the Kindle world lately.

  “When will you have this one finished?” Gabby has released three romance novels so far and is working on her fourth. She has loved reading since we were kids. We all grew up together on the same street, attended the same college, and now all work together at Rocky Elementary, but Gabby would like to become a full-time author in the future and I think it’s what will be the best fit for her.

  “Hoping to send it to my editor next month.” She smiles, but her eyes never leave her computer screen.

  The car ride to the arena is filled with blaring music. Chrissy is usually all over the place with her taste. She can rap for forty-five minutes and then switch to country for the next. It’s an entertaining car ride, especially when you add in her driving ability, and it’s li
terally the ride of your life.

  “We’re here, bitches!” Her sing-song voice rises as she turns the volume knob down on the radio.

  I glance out my window and take in the sight before me. Large metal columns form the front of the arena spelling out Atlanta. Thousands of fans are filing in, creating long lines at the front of the building. Traffic is being directed as people rush across the street to get in line.

  We park the car near the back entrance. All the parking spots at the front are, of course, filled. I climb out of the backseat and squeeze between the door and the car, careful not to hit the vehicle parked beside us. My sister’s wonderful parking skills.

  “Damn, Kelsi. Your ass in those jeans!” Jennifer shouts. She walks by and smacks my ass playfully. “Ya know what? We’re going to get you laid tonight. You need some fun.” Her laughter makes everyone else laugh. Jennifer has two different types of laughs; she has her genuine laugh, which is when she really finds something funny, and she has her hyena laugh, which is her fake-as-hell laugh. The one she is currently using is her hyena laugh and you can’t help but laugh at her laugh.

  “I am not getting laid tonight.” I adjust my purse strap so it’s across my body. Chrissy is leaning against the side of her car, smirking at me. “What?” I toss my arms out to the side.

  “You are so going to draw attention tonight, little sis.” I glance down at my outfit, unsure of what the fuss is about. I’m wearing a Hawks T-shirt that’s tied in a knot at the side, skinny jeans that actual fit me for once, and red Converse. My hair is down in loose waves and my makeup is minimal like always.