Page 85 of Tangled with the Tight End

forty-six

GABRIEL

One Month Later

The atmosphereof the playoff game is electric. The crowd stomps, claps, and chants in unison in the freezing cold, with plumbs of steam rising above their heads. It looks bone-chilling, but I don’t feel anything as every ounce of my awareness is focused on Gunner as he calls the play.

His face is as serious as I’ve ever seen it but that’s not unusual. He’s the ultimate competitor and we’re on the biggest stage–at least the biggest stage to date for the season. If we make this play, we’ll be making an appearance in two weeks for the championship game.

There are fifteen seconds left, and we’re on our opponents’ 35-yard line.

Gunner claps me on the back. “Bro, it’s do-or-die time.”

“Yes, it is.”

I line up and glance back at Gunner who’s in the shotgun position, ready for the snap. The game has been a clash of wills with our opponent chasing back to go in front of us each time we’d willed our way ahead.

But there’s no time left. We either score here, or we go home. In another time, I’d be devastated at the thought of another year done. Endless days wasted waiting for pre-season. This year, I have something to look forward to.

Not that my competitive edge is gone. It’s only been honed by Norah being in the suite, watching and cheering me on. She’s been featured on the jumbotron more than once with the other wives and family members. The sight of her with her hair piled high on her head, wearing my jersey, still makes my chest ache.

“Hut!” Gunner yells, and center snaps the ball to him. A clashing of colors flashes in front of me as the offensive and defensive lines charge into each other. Tony and Jeremy sprint down the sideline, with Devin taking the outside, and I cut in front of the safety on my way to the endzone.

The sounds and smells of the stadium disappear. I don’t hear the crowd or smell the lingering scent of BBQ, popcorn, and spilled beer. It was just me and the safety, who spun around when I went past him, crossing the plane and watching as the football zings in the air.

The corner jumps as the ball nears, but I jump higher, snatching the ball into my hands, and tumble toward the ground. I ignore the impending pain and crash onto the frozen ground. Jarring pain flashes through my body from my hip to my shoulder, but I grip tighter as the defender falls down on top of me. My bones bark as the air is knocked out of my lungs.

Slowly, the crowd around me reappears. Gunner and Tony are yelling something as they drag me to my feet with my hand held high above my head. The ball remains steadily in my grasp. Holy shit. I toss the ball into the air as I’m swarmed by the rest of the team. We won.

Fuck, yes. We won. The crowd screams and chants to the victory music piping through the overhead speakers.

The chaos continues as interviewers shove their microphones in my face and ask about the last play. My head is pounding by the time I step through the crowd and smile. There she is. Her eyes shine brightly as she launches into my embrace. “Amazing job, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

I hold her tighter as my throat closes with emotion. My entire world has changed in this football season. I was injured and didn’t know if I’d ever return to the field. My son was dropped off on my front step, forcing me to learn to be a father and a better man, and I met this amazing woman. I swallow hard and clasp her face. “I love you so much.”

“I love you.” Lights flash around us as the reporters and their film crews get their first pictures of us since our engagement was announced. She’s right. Life can’t keep getting better. She places her hand over her mouth and whispers into my ear, “I’m pregnant.”

My head snaps back as I gape at her. Holy shit. I laugh and lift her feet off the ground, kissing her soundly on the lips. I’ve got to stop thinking life can’t get any better because, at some point, I’m going to explode with happiness.

Thirty minutes later, my agent catches me as I’m coming out of the dressing room. I didn’t intend to take this long, but Gunner doused us in champagne before launching into a speech about our mission not concluding yet.

“Hell of a game.” Hudson claps my back.

“Thank you.” My damp hair curls around my ears.

He shoves his phone in front of my face. Two years for 34 million dollars. I snap my mouth shut and blink. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious.”

I lick my lips. That’s more money than I hoped for, but where is the offer from? I scan the rest of the message. Mr. Welker, the owner. Thank God. Not that it wouldn’t be nice to be closer toNorah, but I don’t have any intention of moving to another team. Learning a new system. Getting into a rhythm with another offense. Two years for 34 million dollars here at this stadium. Life can’t–nope. Not saying it. I clap Hudson’s back. “Do it.”

“Yes, Sir.” He winks, slaps my back again, and disappears into the crowd.

When I see Norah, I grab her hand, lead her down the hallway and into a small breakroom that the coaches use for all-night planning sessions. It keeps getting shoved off the renovation list, but it’s not like they care if the place only has beaten-down furniture and an espresso machine. By the time they break from an intense meeting, all they want is a nap to recharge before starting back in again or driving home.

I snap the door closed. First things first. I rest my hand on her flat belly. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes.” Her hand splays over mine. “I found out this morning but didn’t want to distract you during the game.”

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