by Frost, Sosie
“Wow, I hope you use a lot of lube.”
I laughed. “You get knocked up with one baby, and suddenly you’re all corrupted.”
Rory grinned. “I’m not the one pleasuring footballs over women.”
“And here I am, trying to be a gentleman so I don’t offend you with the wild details of my last conquest.” And hell if I could remember when that was. “I don’t date much.”
“Never found anyone that’s tickled your fancy?”
“Plenty of women have tickled other places than my fancy.”
She plugged her ears. “I so don’t need to hear about it.”
“Oh really?” I pointed to her belly. “And you’re gonna tell me that’s the result of a couple Eskimo kisses and a bit of sunshine?”
“Would you believe the stork?”
“I don’t want to imagine you with a man. Why the hell would I picture you with a stork?”
“I don’t need a PhD to tell you that’s not how…” She lowered her voice. “Babies are made.”
I could have used a doctor to show me though.
I cringed. It didn’t stop the heat from flowing to an unwelcomed spot. Maybe Rory was right—my head hadn’t been screwed on tight enough. I shouldn’t have had those thoughts about her.
Fortunately, Rory squirmed in her seat and hid behind the menu. I grabbed mine, but I stashed it in my lap instead.
Rory hummed. “Do I want a burger, a cheese quesadilla, chocolate cake, or a salad made of pickles and tomatoes?”
“Get ‘em all. See what you like.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’d be like nailing a neon sign with a flashing arrow to my uterus. I’m trying to keep the…” she whispered the word, “pregnancy a secret.”
“You don’t have to keep the baby a secret with me.”
She batted me with the menu as the music lulled. “Shush! Don’t even mention the word. From now on…call it a football.”
“What?”
“I’m carrying a football.”
“Make sure you wash the lube off of it first.”
She batted me with the menu again but smiled politely as the waitress returned to take our orders.
“Burger please,” Rory said. “But no condiments on it. Or cheese. And don’t even let it near any onions.” She bit her lip. “Can you put some ice cream on the side of it?”
I stared at the menu. “And I’d like a cheese quesadilla, piece of chocolate cake, and any variety of pickled vegetable you have in the restaurant.” Damn it. I ordered for Rory but forgot what I wanted. My mind blanked, and I pointed to the first thing I saw. “Poutine.”
What the hell was poutine?
The waitress didn’t question our orders. Then again, McCrees was a common Rivets’ hangout. She was probably used to pregnant woman.
That didn’t mean I was. “So this football…you still haven’t said who…handed it off to you.”
Rory’s teeth clamped down on her straw. Message received. “It was a mistake. And I should’ve known better, but I thought we’d just…go for it.”
“Does he know about the football?”
“The signals didn’t get crossed, if that’s what you mean. He doesn’t agree with my play call. Would have preferred that I…punt.”
“And so he’s left you alone on the field?” My words sharpened. That was twice I’d gotten aggravated this evening, but at least this irritation was justified.
No one treated Rory like this.
Rory bit her lip. “When we played the game, he rushed to the line. I thought we plugged the hole, but a rusher got through.”
“And then he dumped the ball back on you after he scored.”
“Look, I can handle it,” she said. “Sure, my life is a little out of bounds now, but I’m not going to fumble. As long as I keep the game plan a secret for a bit longer, I’ll come out with a winning record.” She sipped her water. “I’ve just gotta remember not to spike this football.”
I stared into her eyes for a moment too long—savoring her determination, her grace, and her bravery.
“I’m sorry, Doc…” The silence stretched. “Are we still talking about a baby…or is this another cognitive test?”
Rory shook her head. “I’ve got it under control. I don’t care about the player involved.”
“He’s a football player?”
“No. I meant he’s…someone who jumps in and out of bed with women. It was my fault for not realizing his reputation.”
“This isn’t your fault. This guy needs to step up.”
“Getting him involved would be chaos. We talked, and I’m going to do this myself. I have to focus on the fellowship now. It’s too good of an opportunity to waste, and if anyone learns about the pregnancy, I’ll lose this chance. The fellowship will take my spot and award it to one of the dozen others who applied.” Rory rubbed her tummy. “One of the men who wanted the gig. Just because they have a penis, they think they can practice medicine better than me. Well, I’ll have you know, I’ve got a nine-month study buddy with me now. She’ll come in handy.”
I chuckled, but Rory hadn’t moved her hand. Her fingers drew little circles over her flat tummy.
“Is it a baby or a genie?”
She frowned. “What?”
“The way you’re rubbing,” I said. “Looks like you expect the baby to pop out and grant you three wishes.”
Rory jerked away, checking to see if anyone else had caught her motion.
“Relax,” I said. “I think most people walk out of here clutching their guts. You’re fine.”
She sighed, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You know…I could use a genie about now.”
“Got a wish you want to make?”
“Don’t you?” Her smile was a gentle tease.
“Only one,” I said.
“What is it?”
“You first.”
Rory shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? I want my fellowship.”
“That’s fair.”
She met my gaze with a temptingly arched eyebrow. “And I know what you want.”
I hoped not. Rory was far too innocent to read the thoughts that stiffened me head to groin.
“You want to play football,” she said.
“Eight years of higher education really pays off, huh?”
Rory rolled her eyes. “You’re not subtle, Jude.”
“I don’t need to wish for it.” I pointed at her. “I just need clearance to play.”
“You know what my answer will be.” Rory shifted, pretending to watch the six rookies perform their rousing rendition of It’s Raining Men. “Don’t put me in this position, Jude.”
“I’m only asking for a chance.” I grinned as the waitress returned. “Don’t make the decision now. We haven’t eaten yet.”
Rory stared at her burger and quesadilla, but her fork sunk into the cake first. She gave the chocolate a tentative lick.
Lucky cake.
I stared at my food. Apparently, poutine was made of French fries, brown gravy, and…
“Oh God…” Rory covered her eyes. “What is that?”
“Cheese.”
“That’s not cheese.”
“You gotta get off your tuffet, Miss Muffet.”
“Excuse me?”
“They’re cheese curds. Want a bite?”
“Dear God, no.” She turned away from the bowl, but, after a long moment, she shrugged. “It smells good. Just don’t let me see it.”
I loaded a French fry dripping with gravy onto her fork. A bit of cheese melted onto the bite.
Rory hummed as she swallowed. “That’s really good.” The fork returned. “Can I have another?”
“We’ll share it.”
I reloaded the fork with another French fry and all the gravy it could sop up. She took her bite, groaned a beautiful sound of contentment, and dipped a finger in her chocolate icing.
“I know,” she said. �
�I’m a freak.”
“You’re not a freak,” I lied. “I’m just glad you’re smiling.”
“Well…this is kinda fun.”
“Yeah?”
Her tongue licked at a spec of chocolate still sweetening her finger. She gave it a lap and nearly stopped my heart.
“You’ve always been fun, Jude. It’s why I once had a…” She gave a nervous laugh. “No. Never mind.”
“What?”
“Seriously. It’s the hormones talking.”
“I’m interested in what they’re saying.”
She rolled her eyes. “Besides feed me, take a nap, throw that up, and freak out about losing your slipper?”
“All valid concerns.”
She looked away. “I’m worried about you, that’s all. Your last concussion was absolutely frightening. I watched them load you into the ambulance, Jude. On the stretcher.”
“And I recovered.”
“People don’t recover from injuries like that. It doesn’t take a neurology specialty to realize it. And I think if you were really honest, you’d agree.”
I usually loved silence, but this moment lasted too long.
I flinched as Lachlan keyed up a song that set my teeth on edge.
“This one is dedicated to our newest running back!”
The Rivets hooted and clapped the instant he began to sing.
“Hey Jude…”
Rory stole the fork and attacked the poutine herself. “You hate this song.”
“My mother didn’t.”
“…Let her under your skin…”
“The team is excited to have you.” Rory ducked her head, avoiding the curious glances of the guys as I saluted Lachlan with my raised beer. “They all respect you. I know they’d love for you to sign.”
“Sounds like a but to me…”
“…world upon your shoulders…”
Rory held my gaze. “There’s pressure to keep playing this game. Even more to hide injuries and pretend you’re healthy enough to suit up.”
“Doc—”
“…play it cool…”
“If you decided to retire, it wouldn’t make you weak. Especially after that hit. No one wants to retire on an injury, but if it means you’ll stay healthy?” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “I’ll help you. If I don’t clear you to play, then the decision is out of your hands. You’d be following doctor recommendations.”
“I’m not quitting. Not until I have that championship ring on my finger.”
“…is on your shoulders…”
It wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
“All it takes is one bad hit,” Rory said. “You need to think about your quality of life ten, fifteen years down the line. The longer you play, the more you risk serious conditions like chronic traumatic encephalopathy—”
I’d heard it before. It didn’t change my mind. “People play with worse injuries than mine. We’ll figure out a way to make it work. You gotta…think outside the box.”
“Which box? The coffin?”
“You’re overreacting.”
“I’m concerned.”
“…let her under your skin…”
“I can’t prove to you I’m healthy over one dinner, and you can’t assess me with a five-minute test. So I need you to believe me, Rory. I was hurt. I got better. I’m feeling stronger than ever.”
She frowned. “Wow. Denial must be fun. I should try it. Hmm…a single, unwed mother is always treated with respect. A pregnancy won’t impact my job at all. Maybe they make lead-lined Mobi wraps so I can take the baby in with me when I do CT scans on my patients!”
The idea flashed in my head.
Sudden. Fierce. Just as sharp as any of the hits that had rattled my brain loose. Glad to know I could still craft a good scheme every once in a while.
“…make it better, better, better…”
“I can solve both of our problems,” I said.
Rory laughed. “Ah, so you’re delusional now. Not one of the usual post-concussion syndrome symptoms.”
“Do you want to save your reputation?”
“Yes.”
“And keep your fellowship?”
“Of course.”
“Then you need help,” I said. “People will notice that you’re pregnant…soon. And they’ll want to know who the father is. If you say you were impregnated on a one-night stand, you won’t look very responsible.”
“Thanks.”
“You need someone in your life, Rory. A relationship.”
“Now you sound like my step-mother.”
“Maybe she has a point?” I asked. “You need a boyfriend.”
“…looking for someone to perform with…”
“Uh, wanting a boyfriend is what got me in this trouble.”
Not anymore.
“I’m going to be your boyfriend.”
Rory blinked, but it took a long moment before she jerked away from the table. Her drink overturned. She grabbed it before it washed away her quesadilla.
“What?”
“We’ll pretend that I’m your boyfriend,” I said.
“Pretend?”
This was a full-proof plan, provided I could sell it to her.
“I’m going to pretend to be your boyfriend, and, by proxy…” I pointed to her tummy. “I’ll pretend to be the baby’s father.”
“How hard did you hit your fucking head? I think you left most of your brain on the fifty-yard line.”
“…nah nah nah…”
I forced her to listen, holding her gaze. “This is a way for you to appear respectable—like you’re in a long-term, loving relationship. No one would dare to question your desire to start a family, and they won’t doubt our commitment to each other. If you want to protect your reputation and your career, you’re gonna need a boyfriend.”
“No.” She laughed a little too sharply. “No, no, no.”
“Plus…” I let the word hang. “We’ll be together more. You’ll move in with me. Immediately.”
Rory shocked screech nearly overshadowed Lachlan’s song. “This pretend family is suddenly so nuclear it’s melting down.”
“Once you’re home with me…you’ll see that I’m perfectly fit to play. You can be with me every day, monitoring my progress, keeping an eye on me.”
“I’d do that anyway, Jude.” She exhaled. “Weekly assessments if I let you on that field. Plus, I’d have absolute authority to pull you out of a game if I suspected anything was wrong.”
I grinned. “Is that a yes?”
“…nah nah nah…”
“Absolutely not. I am not pretending to be your girlfriend.”
“It’d only be for the length of the fellowship.”
“And then what?”
“And then…we amicably split. Just stay friends.”
“It won’t work.”
“It will if you let me help you.”
“This is not the way to help me. I can’t…pretend to be in love with you.”
“Is it that hard to imagine?”
“You tell me, League’s Most Eligible Bachelor three years running.” Rory took a shaky breath. “You don’t realize what you’re offering. This would completely disrupt your life. Everyone would think you were the baby’s father.”
“That baby needs a father. I like kids. Problem solved.”
“You aren’t listening—”
“I have one question,” I said.
“And I’ve got a million—starting with how do you think this could possibly work?”
“One question.” I hesitated. “I won’t ask you about the father.”
“And I wouldn’t tell you anything anyway.”
“What did he look like?”
“Are you kidding me?” Rory laughed. “I’m not telling you my type. I don’t even talk about my sex life with my girlfriends.”
“Was he white?”
“Oh.” Rory tapped her dark fingers on the table. “Yeah. He was.”
“Go
od. Then we have the color pallet settled. That’s all we need.”
“No. It’s really not. You aren’t the baby’s father. There’d be so many responsibilities—”
“I want them. We’ll pretend to be in a relationship, do our jobs, work together—”
“Hey Jude…”
“No way,” Rory said. “I know you’re trying to protect me, but this isn’t the way to do it. If I do my job well, it shouldn’t matter what happens when I begin to show. I’m going to focus on my career. I can’t be distracted by you—” She shook her head. “A fake relationship with you. I’m sorry, Jude.”
“Rory—”
“…nah nah nah…”
“Thank you for coming out with me tonight.” She stood, edging away from the table. “I have to go. I’ll see you at the practice facility tomorrow.”
I reached for her. “Wait. Don’t go. Let’s finish our dinner.”
“Why? If I stay any longer, you’ll probably propose.” She smiled. “Thanks, Jude, but I’m going to be okay. And so are you. I’m clearing you to play, provided I don’t observe any deterioration in your health.”
“Rory—”
“You should tell the team the good news.”
Damn it.
She bolted from the bar as everyone joined Lachlan to sing the rest of the song.
I should have been more relieved about her assessment. I knew I belonged on the field. The game was the most important thing in my life—something I sacrificed my mind, body, and soul to play and win.
I had nothing else.
No girlfriend.
No family.
No real home after I moved teams to find another city willing to give me this last season.
This was my last chance for glory. Once I led the Rivets to the championship, I could retire with pride as one of the greatest running backs to play the game. I’d leave on my own terms. My decision.
But I watched the door after Rory left, hoping she’d rush back inside.
She didn’t.
For the first time, a championship wasn’t all I wanted to win.
But chasing after Rory was a game we’d both lose.
3
Rory
Eric dropped the subtleties and roared into the phone. “You’re fucking pregnant?”
Not exactly the inspirational message I’d write on my baby shower’s cake. But it’d pair well with the How Could You Be So Irresponsible? party hats and Since When Are You Such A Slut? banner my step-mother would hang.