Vegas Aces: The Wide Receiver Complete Series

CHAPTER 22 TRISTAN

I’ve spent the last couple days in between helping with the baby talking with Kate Dalton, wife of Jack Dalton, the quarterback for the Vegas Aces. As it turns out, the neighborhood I was looking at is one of Jack’s off-season ventures in real estate development, and his wife is the head of the design team. She has helped me create the perfect floor plan for our custom home, and as soon as the baby is back down after this afternoon’s feeding, I can’t wait to show Tessa the plans.

She’s sitting on the couch with the baby in her arms, fast asleep. The television is off, and she stares at Fallon, a smile on her lips.

“Come look,” she whispers when she hears me come into the room. I set my laptop on the kitchen counter and make my way over to where she sits in the family room. I sit carefully beside her so I don’t disturb Fallon, and my eyes focus on her perfect little face, her rosy cheeks, her button nose, and her toothless little smile.

Wait…a smile?

“She’s smiling,” I whisper.

Tessa nods, a smile lifting her lips, too. “I wonder what she’s dreaming about.”

“Probably your tits. I know that’s what I dream about.”

She gasps with a soft laugh and shakes her head.

“For nourishment,” I say. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

She chuckles again.

“I have some house designs to show you when you’re ready,” I say.

She nods. “I can’t wait to see.”

Her phone starts ringing, and it’s startlingly loud in the quiet room. It’s over on the kitchen counter, and I leap up to silence it before it wakes the baby.

I hand it over to her, and her eyebrows dip as she stares at the screen. “It’s Miranda Wesley.”

I take Fallon from her arms so she can answer, and I head toward the bassinet in the living room in the front of the house. We have baby monitors everywhere, so we’ll hear her if she wakes, but she’ll be far enough away that the voices won’t wake her.

“Hello?” I hear her answer as I set Fallon down. I watch her for a few seconds, and she’s still sleeping. I rush back toward Tessa, and she puts the call on speaker.

“How are you?” she asks.

“Worried,” Miranda says. “We got the tests back, and Logan’s hemolytic anemia has become aplastic anemia.”

My chest tightens when she says the words. I don’t know what aplastic anemia is, but Tessa’s next words have me a little scared.

“Oh no, Miranda. I’m so sorry,” Tessa says, and there’s definite panic on her face.

“Dr. Foster says the only cure is a bone marrow transplant and I’m terrified. I’ve heard it’s hard to find matches, and Logan is adopted, so his father and I might not be able to help him. We could try to appeal to the courts to unseal his adoption records and find his parents since Dr. Foster told me that parents can be matches, and I’m not sure why I’m calling you other than because you know Logan and you’re a nurse and you just called not very long ago to ask about him and I’m praying you know how to move this process along to save my son.” She starts to cry as she babbles.

Tessa glances at me, and I nod. She clears her throat. “I, um…I think we might be able to help.”

“I knew you could. My gut told me to call you, and I knew you’d know what to do,” she says, her voice trembling.

Tessa’s eyes edge to me again. They’re wide, and she looks nervous. I reach over and squeeze her hand in solidarity.

“I, um…I have something I need to tell you,” Tessa begins. “I know who Logan’s biological parents are.”

There’s silence for a beat before Miranda speaks again.

“You do?” she finally asks, hope apparent in her voice. But then it’s like a switch flips as she realizes something, and the hopelessness and fear is back in her tone. “Wait…no. How could you? Those records…they’re sealed. The birth mother wanted to make sure there was no way anyone would ever find out, it was all through this private agency—”

Tessa interrupts her. “I’m his birth mother.”

Silence greets those words on the other end of the line.

The silence stretches into an uncomfortable amount of time.

“And I’m his birth father,” I finally add.

Tessa’s eyes connect with mine, and we share a look of understanding that means we will ban together to do whatever it takes to save our son…even if it means doing it from the sidelines. Even if it means letting him live his life without knowing us. Whatever keeps him happy and healthy…that’s all that matters.

Tessa opens her mouth to speak when her phone makes a little sound and the screen goes black.

Miranda ended the call. She hung up.

Tessa dials her back, but she doesn’t answer.

“What do I do?” she whispers to me, tears filling her eyes.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head a little as my heart pounds with fear.

Fear for that little boy.

We can help. I want to help. I know nothing about bone marrow donation, but I will become educated so I can help that little boy who needs us.

“Should I text her?”

I lift a shoulder. “Try it.”

I watch as she drafts the text.

Tessa: I’m sorry to spring that on you. I know what a wonderful mother you are to that little boy, and the last thing we want is to upset any of you or your lives. We can proceed in whatever way makes you most comfortable, but we are both here and willing to help.

She glances up at me, and I nod.

She clicks send, and the message is obviously read right away, but a reply doesn’t come.

We both stare down at her phone, waiting and wondering.

The baby’s cry pulls our attention away from the monitor sitting beside us.

“I’ll get her,” I say.

Tessa clicks off her phone and slides it into her pocket. “Let’s both go,” she suggests, likely as a way to distract us from what just happened.

But there’s no distraction from knowing your child needs you and there’s nothing you can do about it.