Beautiful Storm (San Francisco End Game #1)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Amelia

How do you tell a guy who only does one-night stands that he’s going to be a dad? And more to the point, how do you deal with said guy being that dad when you want nothing to do with him. What did I do?

Three days after my life-changing appointment, I’m in my car in the stadium parking lot, feeling nauseous and staring at Luke like a stalker. I’m watching him go about his day while I sit here with a baby growing inside me and the power to change his world.

I work hard, trying to break my stare, but when his loud laugh filters through the air, it hits me in the chest. I’m having a baby with Luke.

My heart picks up speed and I find myself studying his every expression as he speaks, picturing a little boy with the same striking features, wondering if he’ll be a little heartbreaker like his dad or go his own way, praying like hell that he’s nothing like my own father.

A sharp pang settles in my stomach, and for a second I panic, until I remember it’s the same feeling I get whenever I dwell on my dad abandoning us. His lies . For years, I blamed myself, thinking I wasn’t good enough for him. And then Luke… my nausea intensifies and despite that being one of the symptoms of pregnancy, I know it’s not that. I’m nauseous because my emotions are wreaking havoc on my stomach. I’m nervous to talk to Luke, anxious about my future, terrified of how my bosses will react, and annoyed that I’m giving Jake all the ammunition he needs to say, “I told you so.” This industry is hard enough to crack, but at the same time… I’m having a baby . I need to get my shit together.

My eyes water but I smile through it. No matter what happens, at the end of this I’m going to have a baby. A baby. My world is about to change and that’s a good thing. No matter how scary.

The vibration of my phone cuts into my thoughts as Luke walks inside, severing my trance. I take a deep breath before moving to answer, but when my gaze drops to the device locked in my hand, I freeze. Damien . My absent father. As though his ears were burning from my thoughts.

I stare down at his moniker while an image of his smile works its way to the forefront of my mind, the same smile I find staring back at me every time I look in the mirror. I may have my Mom’s thick, wavy brown hair and small frame, but I’ve got my dad’s coloring and facial features.

I used to think I was lucky. I had the greatest father. While my mom and I always fought, my dad was my hero. Right up until my elementary school graduation, when I learned the truth.

On what was supposed to be a happy day, I lost the two most important males in my life.

Luke being the second one.

My eyes water again and I swallow back the emotion. I’ve spent too many hours crying over that period of my life, and I’ve moved on.

And since the sight of his name makes me anxious, I’m seriously considering not telling my mom about the baby, knowing she’ll likely run to tell Dad. The last thing I need is for my dad to try and worm his way back into my life, hoping for a second chance at being present.

I deserve better, and there’s no way in hell I’d put my kid through that.

After canceling the call, I throw my phone onto the passenger seat before banging my head against the backrest and giving myself a pep talk. It’s time to focus, it’s time to be professional, and it’s time to get the hell out of the car.

Taking another deep breath, I grab my things and throw open the door, not allowing myself a second longer to wallow. Having a baby is a good thing and it far outweighs the bad . I need to get over it. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I straighten out my dress and stand tall just as one of the players, Reed, steps into what I thought was my private bubble, making me jump.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his brows furrowed as he watches me.

I glance away, subtly wiping a hand over my face to clear up any stray tears. When I turn back to face him, I smile at his concerned expression. “Yes, thank you. I’m just tired.”

“I saw you wiping your eyes.”

Of course he did . “I promise. I’m fine. I was just thinking about something I read last night. A sad story. You don’t need the details.” I’m only half lying in this scenario—I did read a sad story about a couple who’d been together all their lives and died within a day of each other—but I wasn’t thinking about that just now.

Reed eyes me suspiciously. From his interview and from talking with his teammates, I’ve come to learn that Reed is the caring guy on the team. The media even nicknamed him the Golden Boy. He’s the guy that never puts a foot wrong and will protect his teammates at all costs. On and off the field.

And something about his expression tells me he just added me to his list. God knows why.

“Are you sure?” he pushes as if proving my point. “You were staring at your phone before you threw it on the seat. I’m going to go out on a limb and say it wasn’t the phone that did you wrong.” God, how long was he watching me?

“Wow. What made you choose football over investigative journalism?” The verbal dig is out in the world before I’ve thought it through, and I rush to cover my mouth, my eyes wide. “I’m sorry,” I mumble behind my hand. “That was uncalled for. I do that when I’m stressed.”

Reed stares at me for a second before he bursts out laughing. “I did it for the ladies. Football players get the girls. Whereas those journalists…”

“Not so much.” I drop my hand, more at ease despite the fact that he’s lying for my sake. He doesn’t want the girls. Plural. He wants one . He’s in love with his best friend. It was obvious from the way he spoke of her. But then his teammate Wyatt confirmed it.

“Not even close.” Reed waggles his eyebrows and I join his laughter. “Are you heading inside?” he adds, pointing over his shoulder to the door Luke previously entered, making my heart clench.

“I am.” Unfortunately .

“Okay, I’ll walk you in. Maybe I can turn that frown upside down.”

At that my chest heats and a warm smile spreads across my face. “You don’t have to,” I say honestly, waving a hand in front of my face. “Mission accomplished.”

Now I just need to keep up the charade until I get the chance to talk to Luke. Easy-peasy. Right?

A n hour later, some of the guys are on the field ahead of their next preseason game, while I’m on the sidelines making notes and taking photos, pretending I’m not anxious as hell.

I may be two pages in, but I have no idea what I’ve been writing because all I can think about is getting through this day so I can finally get this secret off my chest.

I exit out of my notes screen, ready to give in, when a to-do item pops up, reminding me I have to send Preston my music video idea. Yay ! Ugh . If I don’t do it soon he’s likely to chase me, and I’d rather avoid future contact, especially now that I have more important things to contemplate…like being a mom.

After putting my tablet and camera away, I dig around my bag to find my ideas notebook and flip through the pages, looking for the specific song, as a wave of nostalgia hits me. Along with my journals, this book has been my biggest confidant since I was in high school—which means some of the ideas are hilarious. You could say not all my work stood the test of time. But when I come to the “Wicked Style” notes, I hold my breath as my heart races. I love this idea. But just like Preston himself, I need to forget it. After taking a photo with my phone, I rip the page from my book and shove it aggressively into my bag.

Am I giving in? Maybe. But I can’t look at it like that. I’m doing this to cut Preston from my life, and in the long run, that’s more important than a single idea.

A figure walks in front of me as I’m typing out my message and when I glance up, I spot Luke talking to the offensive line coach, laughing at something he says, once again making me picture a little boy or girl laughing the same, their little faces lit up in happiness.

My heart skips until Luke catches me staring, his smile replaced with a glare.

What the hell was I thinking?

Of all the people I could have slept with… Hell, a stranger would have been better. At least then we’d be starting with a clean slate. How can I share custody with Luke—if he even wants that—while the two of us hold so much anger toward each other. That’s no way to bring a child into the world.

We need a truce. A ceasefire. An agreement. Something to ensure we’re civil when it comes to our child. Our baby comes first.

No matter what .

I resist the urge to caress my belly and grab my tablet again to distract myself as Keeley drops into the seat beside me.

“Hi,” I rush out with a smile, trying to appear put together when I’m very much not. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Sorry, am I interrupting? I wanted to talk about the schedule, but if you’re busy…” She trails off, glancing down at my notes.

“No, you’re fine.” I shake my head and tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “I was a little over note taking anyway.”

“I understand that.” Keeley giggles. “The guys are much more interesting in the locker rooms.” She waggles her eyebrows, making me laugh as I raise an brow in question.

“God, I didn’t mean it like that.” She grimaces comically. “I’m clearly overworked and not thinking about my word choices. I’m in desperate need of a tropical vacation and a good lay if I’m honest. I need to relieve some built-up tension.” I smile when she whispers the word “lay.” It’s not the word I would have used, but I like it. “You don’t know anyone, do you?” she asks, anticipation set in her features. “I don’t have the time to meet someone new.”

“I wish I did,” I say genuinely. Keeley’s lovely; I’d definitely help her if I could. But what do I know about decent guys? “I’m guessing you don’t want to go down the football player path?” I joke. Things could get awkward if she did.

Keeley scrunches her nose, giving me her answer before she speaks. “That’s too close to home. Plus, one of the guys is my brother. We just don't publicize it.”

“What?” I huff out a laugh. Not one person has let that slip.

“Oh, please don’t mention that in the show.”

I pretend to lock my mouth and throw away the key. “Your secret is safe with me. But can I know who it is?”

Keeley taps her fingers together as she lets out a giggle. “How about you guess? That would be more fun.”

“Oooh. Okay. Let me think.” I rub my chin as I study her features. She usually wears her long auburn hair straight, but today it’s pulled up into a messy bun and I can tell that it’s naturally curly. She has bronzed skin which makes me think she’s Californian, and she has bright blue eyes, though that doesn’t help considering I haven’t paid enough attention to any of the players’ eye colors. Except for Luke’s. His deep piercing eyes always get me. It’s been that way since we were kids. But I digress. Dammit .

I lift in my seat, pushing all thoughts of Luke out of my mind, and try to subtly scan the players on the field. My gaze finds Blake from special teams, his curly locks drawing my attention as they jut out from beneath his helmet.

“Blake?” I blurt in a rushed whisper but know I’m wrong when Keeley laughs. “Okay, what about…” I spot Nathan, remembering he’s one of the few guys I don’t know that also grew up in the Golden State. “Nathan! It’s Nathan, isn’t it?” Keeley doesn’t share many resembling features with any of the guys on the team, so these guesses are baseless, but it’s worth a shot.

She shakes her head, biting back a grin.

“Dammit. Okay. Wyatt, Dylan, Lawson, Miller.”

“Nope. Nope. Nope, still wrong.” Her smile lights up. She’s loving this.

“Ugh.” I pout. “I’ll get there. So… your brother’s the reason you avoid the team?”

“That and I’ve been burned by athletes before.”

“Haven’t we all?” A sigh escapes my lips before I can stop it and it draws Keeley’s attention.

“Ooh…it sounds like there's a story there. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“No, no. It’s okay. Mine’s a little different. He was a friend. One of those situations where he became too cool for me.”

“ Ugh , that sucks. I hate those people.” She squeezes my arm, giving me a sympathetic smile, and guilt hits over my white lie. Luke definitely changed when he started playing on a new football team, but he wasn’t the one that walked out on our friendship. That was all me. He just led me to make that decision.

Keeley tells me about her experience with athletes, plural,—they are definitely her type— and we pass the time chatting, not once discussing the schedule like we were supposed to.

I can understand why she wants to avoid football players. She mentioned they’re the guys that hurt her the most, but if athletes are her thing, there are plenty of others out there. Hockey players for one. I wouldn’t say no to Jesse Hastings or— Oh God , I can’t think like that anymore. I’m going to be a mom.

“Are you okay?” Keeley asks, her voice dropping to a whisper again as she frowns. “You’re a little pale.”

“I’m okay. You just made me think of my own life and I fell into a hole. But I’m good now.” It’s going to take some time to really process the fact that I’m pregnant. I haven’t seen the baby or heard a heartbeat. So, while it feels real, it also doesn’t. “My story is long and for another time,” I add, already comfortable enough to one day talk about it.

“It’s a date.” She laughs. “For now…it looks like they’re done.”

I lift my gaze as the guys jog off the field toward the tunnel, and my stomach knots knowing what I have to do. But while I have an urgent need to get this secret off my chest, now’s not the time to talk to Luke. I know better than to throw a man off his game. No matter how much I dislike him, I’d never do that. No, it will have to wait.

But when did I go from hating Luke to merely disliking him?

Being the father of my child doesn’t automatically give him bonus points. All he did was treat me to mind-blowing sex—that I still dream about daily—and break the damn condom. It’s not— The condom? We broke it. Not me, we . There’s a silver lining here. At least Luke can’t throw the blame completely my way. If he gets mad, I can remind him of that tiny yet important piece of information.

But what if he doesn’t get mad?

What if he ghosts me and refuses to acknowledge his child? Or worse, what if he has a family one day and our child gets left out, abandoned when they're old enough to understand what that means?

What if… Jesus, I’m spiraling.

I need to get this talk over with or God knows what kind of scenarios I’m going to conjure up.

As soon as the game is over, I have to talk to Luke. Let’s hope the team wins. I need him in a good mood.