Page 16 of One and Only

“And I know we don’t ever talk about your personal life …” Her voice trailed off. “But you’ll need nannies, and … you’ll be alone.”

Now it wasn’t just my heart and my stomach reacting to this conversation. My lungs could hardly pull in a full breath. A train could’ve run over my chest, and I wouldn’t have been able to tell. That’s how hard it was not to react to what she was saying to me.

Now. Less than a month before I finally got my chance to be a full-time dad to Olive, and she was doing this now.

“Daddy,” Olive said, tugging on my hand again.

“We can’t do this right now,” I told Josie.

“I know.” She pinched her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Beckett.”

I swallowed. I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to let unchecked frustration color my mood or Olive’s. Josie and I had come so far in six years of co-parenting, and I wouldn’t let one moment of irritation undo how hard we’d worked to do this in a healthy, balanced way for the sake of our daughter.

“I know you are,” I told her. I exhaled slowly, then ducked my chin so my gaze met hers. “We’ll talk later, okay? I can call you and Micah after she goes to bed.”

Her shoulders slumped in relief. “Okay. That sounds nice.”

Olive was pulling on my hand again, so I reached down and swung her up into my arms. She giggled breathlessly when I caught her after a brief, weightless moment in the air. Her arms locked around my neck, her legs tight around my waist.

“Ready?” I asked, tickling her side. She squirmed, smiling wide and nodding excitedly.

Josie rubbed Olive’s back. “See you in a few days, baby.”

As Olive and I walked toward the stadium, she blew Josie a kiss. Normally, there were a few tears anytime she moved from one house to the other. In the off-season, when she could spend longer stretches of time with me, she had a harder time leaving.

For her, settling into a routine had her relaxing.

That’s why we’d made the decision for her to stay with me.

And I mulled over Josie’s words, trying to pick apart what she’d said, what she could’ve meant by them, and how on earth I was supposed to convince her that Olive was still better off staying here if she was already at the point that she and Micah were arguing about it.

I pulled open the doors of the facilities, and the hallway leading down to the primary practice field was decked out with deep-green and aqua-blue balloon arches.

Olive wiggled to get down, and we walked the hallway slowly so she could lightly touch her fingers to all the balloons as we passed.

It was good to see life like this in the halls where I’d spent most of my ten-year career because it hadn’t always been like this.

The Portland Voyagers were the youngest team in the league, a six-year-old expansion effort that meant taking a risk for every single one of us who’d been on the roster since that inaugural season.

No one tells you how hard it will be to gain a foothold among teams that have decades of history and culture behind it.

To gain respect in a league where the fans identify themselves by which team they root for, no matter how that team performs year in and year out.

We’d had more losing seasons than winning ones, especially the first four years, but our owner—a man with more financial acumen than football savvy—was dedicated to making the Voyagers a powerhouse in the NFL.

He hired a cutthroat GM and went after the best coaches—the ones who couldn’t resist the challenge of being at the helm of a team as it started making waves.

They were small at first. But with each smart decision, the waves grew.

We added strong players with trades and draft picks.

It was season four when things started to change. The general sense at the team facilities went from a cloud of frustration and helplessness to cautious hope. A spark of optimism that matched our passion for the game.

That year, we got the first pick in the draft after a dismal two-win season. With that pick came Christian Reyes—a Heisman-winning quarterback with the ability to drop his shoulder and run for a first down and a natural ability to lead. We won six games his first season as QB, and the stadium in Portland slowly started filling its seats for the first time.

Once we had Christian, it became easier to start adding weapons to our offense and build a team around his arm.

Parker Wilder was one of those players when he got an offer he couldn’t refuse and an opportunity to play closer to his family.

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