Page 61 of Draft Pick

But then I thought of Starlie's smile and the way she looked at me, and I knew I had to give this a shot, no matter the challenges ahead.

Just as we were about to split into different groups, Zay surprised me with a sudden burst of emotional awareness. "Hey man, just remember, if things go south, you've still got us. We'll always have your back."

"Thanks, Zay," I said, feeling gratitude and uncertainty. Out on the field, I could handle any play. But this was different. This was life, unpredictable and messy. And as I lined up for the first drill, I knew one thing for sure – I was in this game for the long haul, come what may.

I just had to find a way to break it to my parents they were about to become grandparents — and that conversation was likely to go down in epic Alexander shitshow fashion.

As Coach McKinley called us out to the field, I could feel the weight of my role as the team's quarterback. I needed to be focused and sharp.

But as we lined up for drills, my mind drifted back to my childhood. Unlike my dad, who always pressured me to be the best, no matter the cost, I wanted to be a different kind of father. I wanted to encourage and support my kid, not push them until they broke.

But what if I couldn't overrule the programming already in my head? I mean, I was raised a certain way, what if I fell into the pattern without even realizing it, and before I knew it, I was shouting at my kid to "Go harder!" Or "Suck it up, buttercup, Alexanders are winners!"

I shuddered at the thought. Starlie would run in the other direction if she knew what my family was like. That's another hurdle. When do I introduce Starlie to the family?

I didn't want them to meet at all. I'd rather Starlie never saw the ugly parts of being part Alexander. Hell, I just got her to soften toward me, if she met my family, she'd close up tight…probably rightfully so.

During a key play, my mind wandered, and I fumbled the snap. The ball slipped through my fingers, and the defense pounced on it.

Coach McKinley was on me instantly, his face red with frustration. "Cason! What the fuck are you doing?" he bellowed, his voice reverberating across the field.

I picked up the ball, my hands still trembling slightly. "I'm on it, Coach," I replied, feeling the weight of my teammates' stares.

"Get your goddamn head out of your ass! Get your head in the game!" Coach McKinley shouted, his voice booming across the field.

That internal drive for results snapped my focus back into play. The rest of the practice was a blur of plays and McKinley's shouting.

I pushed myself harder, trying to prove I could handle the dual pressures of football and my personal life. My teammates watched, some with sympathetic glances, others with more critical eyes. They knew the stakes were high, especially with scouts watching our every move.

I spent the rest of practice driving myself harder than usual, leaving the field a sweaty, exhausted mess, but at least McKinley was satisfied.

After practice, as we headed back to the locker room, Lincoln came up beside me, sweaty and covered in bits of field turf. He seemed to know where my head was at, drilling down to my deepest insecurity. "You're going to be a great dad, Cason," he said gruffly. "I know you're in your head but you need to let that go. Don't let these worries throw you off."

"Thanks, man, means a lot." Lincoln was big and burly, but he had a secretly kind heart, probably another reason I wasn't a fan of Ursula's. She'd taken advantage of my friend's best parts, which wasn't cool with me or Zay. If I were any matchmaker, I'd try to find a good match for Linc, but hell, I had my hands full with my own bullshit.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead, heading straight for the showers. I needed the solace of the spray, beating down on my spent muscles, reminding me of what was real and happening now.

On Wednesday, I was going to get a glimpse of my baby. The little person that was half me and half Starlie. We might even find out if it's a boy or a girl.

I felt fairly confident I could handle a son, but the thought of a daughter scared me shitless.

How would I protect her against the guys who didn't deserve her time? How did I teach her to spot guys who only wanted one thing from her?

How did I show her that she deserved to be treated like a queen at all times, not when it was convenient for the guy or served his purpose?

I thought of all the times I'd been a dick to a girl and how I might've been careless with her feelings, and I felt sick to my stomach. I haven't always acted like the good guy.

I did not doubt that I was the villain in someone's story. Someone's daughter out there probably hated the sound of my name.

I ducked my head under the hard pelt of the water, drowning my thoughts and fears.

Please be a boy.

I'll be the best damn father to a son. He'll never feel the pressure of my hand on his future if he doesn't want it there, and I won't push him into sports unless he wants to be there.

I'll support him in anything he wants — if he wants to be a ballet dancer, I'll buy his slippers and be in the front row of every performance.

But how would I balance the person I'd been with the father I wanted to be if the doctor placed a little girl in my arms?

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