Page 58 of Final Down

I drop down on my haunches and drop my forehead into my palm.Hospital.I feel sick.

“Wyatt, you’re not listening. Everything is okay. I’m okay. I came here as a precaution because it was much worse than it usually is, and I didn’t want it to affect the baby. The heart rate is fine. I’m fine. They’re doing some massaging and PT with me.”

She’s fine. The baby is fine.

I slide into a sitting position, letting my back fall against the concrete wall as my stomach finds its way back to where it belongs.

“I’m sorry I’m not there.”

“No, Wyatt. Don’t.” She’s quick to answer me, but it doesn’t take away the fact I really wish I was with her.

“Are they keeping you overnight?” I’m sure her mom would stay with her if they were. She’s got family there. She’s taken care of.

“God, I hope not. But I’ll be fine.”

There’s a machine beeping in the background, and I can’t help but think it’s counting heartbeats—hers, our baby’s. My whole life.

“Do they know what triggered it?” I ask. Her spasticity has been under control for the last two months, and her doctor thought she might be one of the few lucky spinal injury patients who doesn’t have flare-ups with pregnancy.

“Well, my doctor did mention stress,” she says in a wry tone.

I chuckle softly and close my eyes.

“Yeah, I guess life has been a bit extra recently.”

“Hmm, you think?” Her laugh soothes me.

“What’s crazy is I was turning things around today when it happened. I did something big, and I think you’ll be proud of me once you get over your initial shock.”

I swear my wife is an expert at doling out information in such a way as to fuck with my nervous system. I pinch my brow.

“What did you do?”

“Well . . .”

Her over-the-top guilty tone forces a hard laugh from me. Jerry passes by and stops when he hears me, scrunching his face and holding his thumb up, then tipping it down as if to ask if I’m okay. I nod and point to the phone, mouthing, “Peyton.” He nods, but his brow stays furrowed. It’s a strange time for me to be on this call.

If I were any other guy out here, or hell, any guy trying togetout here, I’d wrap things up now that I know she’s okay. But that’s not how I operate, and it’s not the way I ever want to. This game will always be second to her. And Mickey can tell me to pack my bags if he has an issue with that.

Peyton proceeds to tell me about her day, and she was right, I flip out a little when she shares that she went to the Sommers’ house. But once I calm down and hear her out, I get her reasons.

“Do you think Alissa will show up tomorrow?”

Peyton’s quiet for a few seconds.

“That’s a hard question to answer, because yes, I think she’ll show up. I’m just not sure whether she’ll be handing me her uniform or accepting this new role. But I’m okay no matter which way it goes, ya know? It’s about letting it be her choice.”

My smile creeps into my cheeks.

“You’re good at this. Coaching?”

“Yeah?” I can tell she’s proud of herself. I’m proud of her, too.

“Yeah. And Peyt? You’re going to be a great mom.”

Her breath hitches on the other end of the call, and after a long second, she whispers, “Thanks.”

The clatter of cleats on concrete stirs me out of my complacency. I get to my feet and peek down the corridor, where a dozen or so linemen file toward the field. I grab the back of my neck, wanting nothing more than to stay right here in this little concrete shelter away from responsibility, and talk to Peyton a little longer.

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