Page 88 of Redeeming

He runs a finger over the scan. “I’m not going to pretend I know what’s going on between the two of you, and I hope I’m not overstepping when I say this, but I hope you guys can work this out. Not for the sake of the baby. You’re two mature adults. If it’s not meant to be, this beautiful baby girl will be better off with two happy parents who aren’t together than she ever will be with two unhappy parents who stayed together for her sake. But if you guys care about each other as much as I think you do... as much as you need to get through the ups and downs of life, I hope you both put in the work to fix it. There’s nothing greater in this world than having a partner who’s willing to stand by your side and fight your fight when you’re too tired to do it yourself. I didn’t have that with my first wife. I have it with Katherine. It makes all the difference, Caitie.”

My words get caught in my throat.

Strangled by the pain.

“What if I’m not sure whether we have that, Coach? I don’t know if he’ll stay and fight. He left last time,” I finally admit, hoping no one is close enough to hear.

“Sweetheart, did you ever consider that walking away when you love someone is the hardest thing he could have ever done? If he was strong enough to not be selfish and stay, maybe he’s the guy who will fight your fights with you.”

He kisses my forehead the same way his son does, and I somehow manage to keep it together until we get a warning that the cameras are going to zoom in on Coach.

I step back, and Katherine walks into his arms, but he holds onto the sonogram as he waves.

And he looks at me and winks.

That’s when my first tear falls.

CALLEN

The snow starts to fall as I look up at the jumbotron where my parents stand in the Kingston’s suite, smiling out at the field, and fuck if I’m not pretty damn sure my dad is holding our sonogram picture in his hand. And there, behind him, is my girl, wearingmyKings hoodie.

Not that anyone else would know. But I know, and that’s enough for me.

Mine.

My whole fucking world right there.

Her and the baby.

My soul screams it in a cadence for my heart.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts when Lilah walks out onto the fifty-yard line and belts out the opening of the national anthem. I’ll never get tired of hearing her sing it at our games, something she’s done since we were kids.

For most men, this game is a sport.

For some it’s a way of life.

For me . . . it’s a family legacy.

Something we share on so many levels in so many ways.

And today, it’s my turn to step it up.

As I walk out with my co-captains for the coin toss, and the snow dusts the turf, I know without a shadow of a doubt, it’s going to be a nasty game.

A physical game.

The best kind of game.

And we’re going to win.

It’s 20–14, and the Wolves are winning with less than a minute to go in the fourth quarter.

It’s been a battle. A war of attrition. The only way to win this kind of monster game is to be flawless. Every play counts. Every move counts. And every penalty glaringly counts.

We need a touchdown and the extra point to put this bitch to bed.

I stand to the right of my quarterback in what could be our last huddle of the season—the fucking hardest season of my life—and look around at these ten other men.

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