Page 101 of Irresistibly Risky

She disconnects the call, and I shove my phone back in my pocket and race over to Dean. “I have to go. My son is sick. Can you let them know?” I don’t even know why I’m asking or who I want him to let know. Certainly not Joe, and it’s not like he can go over and tell Asher.

“Of course. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just a fever, and he threw up.” I give him a goodbye wave, and then start to run off the field, all the while I throw quick, darting glances at Asher, hoping to catch his eye. On my third try, right before I reach the tunnel, he glances at me with worry creasing his brow. I don’t know what to do, so I pull out my phone and wave it back and forth by my hip so he can see it. Then I shoot him a text telling him about Mason and leave.

I doubt he can do anything right now. His phone is in the locker room, and he’s stuck on the field with the team.

What a morning this has been.

On my way over to the hospital, I call Fallon, who’s his pediatrician. She’s seeing patients but tells me she’ll pop over to Asher’s place after her shift to take a look at Mason. Gotta love doctor friends who will make house calls.

I reach the hospital, park in my spot, and then fly through the building up to the daycare. My poor baby is tucked into his teacher’s chest, his cheeks bright and rosy. “Mason,” I call gently as I approach, running my hand over his hair. He lets out a whiny cry when I pick him up. I kiss his forehead. “Yikes. He’s burning up.”

“Yes, he is,” his teacher agrees. “We can’t give him anything here to bring it down.”

“That’s okay. I’ll bring him home and give him something there.” I pull him into my arms and hug him tightly against me. “Let’s get you home, baby boy.”

29

The thump, thump, thump of my heart only intensifies as the afternoon progresses. I don’t have access to my phone, so I don’t know what the hell is going on. Wynter left the field in a rush and while I want to race after her, I not only can’t for myself, but I know she’d be angry if I did. So I’m stuck. And it sucks.

The second we’re done on the field, I run to my locker, pull out my phone, and read her text.

Ice queen: I received a call from Mason’s daycare. He has a fever and threw up. I’m on my way to get him. He’s fine and I’m on it. Call me when you’re on your way home. Love you.

Dammit. That was three hours ago.

I don’t even bother changing or de-sweating. Who cares? I wasn’t doing much on the field anyway. Instead, I tell my quarterback coach that I have a family emergency and leave. After the shouting I heard between Joe and Wynter earlier today, I’m not even sure what to do or think anymore. My team demands my allegiance, but so does my family, and I’m stuck somewhere in between that.

I dial up Wynter in my car the moment I put it in drive. She picks up on the third ring and I can hear Mason crying in the background.

“Hey,” I say. “What’s going on? Is he okay?”

“Yes. Fallon is here and looked him over. She thinks it’s a virus. Likely something he picked up in daycare, which of course fills me with guilt.”

“Stop it. You work, and so do I. Though maybe when we’re out in the open, we’ll discuss getting a nanny for him.”

“Maybe,” she says and then comforts Mason. “Shh. It’s okay.”

“I’m on my way home. Do you need me to pick anything up?”

“Actually, if you could stop at the pharmacy and get some acetaminophen, that would be great. Dye-free if they have it. I have ibuprofen here, but Fallon suggested alternating that with acetaminophen for his fever.”

“I’m not quite sure what all that means, but I’m on it. Anything else?”

“I can’t think of anything.”

“Well, if you do, text me. I love you both.”

I can hear the smile in her voice when she says, “We love you too.”

She disconnects the call, and I drive home, restless and edgy. It’s been a strange day. I took some reps on the field. Light throwing. Nothing too much, and definitely no contact. But I could feel it. The way my arm responded. How well I threw the ball. How accurate I was. I could feel it all coming back, and the buzz of playing hit me hard.

Leo has been doing well despite a few rookie hiccups, and I have no illusions he’s Coach’s favorite son at the moment. The team has won two of our first three games, which is great for the team but bad for me. I will be ready to hit the field again in the next few weeks, and I’m not sure how that will shake out. Coach hasn’t said a word about it.

I park in my spot in the garage and then walk up through the building to the front. There’s a pharmacy three blocks down, but when I exit my building, there are a few paparazzi lingering around, which I don’t understand at this point.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone was feeding them something to keep them interested in me all this time.

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