“Anyone ever teach you that violence isn’t the answer?” he asks.
“Says the man who tells me to put the quarterback on his ass every week.”
“You think sarcasm is going to win you favors?” he asks.
“You literally once told me to choke somebody.”
He flattens his lips. “On the field, Bradley. Listen, you’ll likely get dismissed in court, maybe a fine. Jack is pissed, but he’ll get over it. The team decided to fine you as well, and you’ll need to take anger management classes that we can probably work in if you stay an hour after practice for a few days.”
I wince when he says the nameJack, and it doesn’t slide by my eagle-eyed coach.
“What? Why the face?” he asks.
I contemplate how much to tell him. He’s a father, a coach, a mentor. He’s here to support his players. He called me in to both check on me and inform me of my punishment.
He might have some insight as to what I should do in my situation.
I blow out a breath.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“Last week, a woman came by my place to see me. She had a baby, a six-month-old, with her, and she claimed he’s mine.” It sounds ridiculous as I say the words, and it only gets more far-fetched as I continue. “She had to surrender herself to jail, and she’s going away for a couple years. She signed the kid over to me and left him with me. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with a kid, and I’m trying to figure out the next step.”
“Do you have proof he’s yours?” he asks.
“Not yet,” I admit. “We submitted a test and are waiting on the results.”
“Good first step. What will you do if it comes back negative?”
I hadn’t really thought about that. I guess the answer is pretty obvious. If he isn’t mine, he goes to the real father or to Tawny’s next of kin.
“It won’t,” I say. “The kidlookslike me. He acts like me, too. Stubborn as fuck.”
“Whines a lot?” he guesses, and then he chuckles at his own jab. “Do you have help?”
“Yeah. My little sister’s friend happened to be in town and she’s good with kids. She’s helping me out for now, but I’m not sure how temporary that situation may be. She was with me last night.”
He presses his lips together and nods. “Still, why the face before when I mentioned Jack?”
“Jack. That’s his name. The baby. His mother named him after her favorite football player of all time…Jack Dalton.”
He bursts out laughing.
“I think she was trying to make my life as awkward as possible, honestly.”
“Success. Listen, if you need a good babysitter, or even a nanny, Jolene and I can come up with some resources for you. And clothes. Joey has outgrown all his baby stuff, and my wife was just talking about wanting to pass them on to someone else. Lots of Aces gear in there.”
“I’ll take whatever you have,” I say.
“So the next step you referred to a bit ago doesn’t mean you’re trying to find someone else to take him on?”
I lift a shoulder. I’m still not completely sold on that, but reality is starting to set in. And the more I see Ainsley with my son, the more I see them both becoming more permanent fixtures at my place.
Or maybe I’m just nuts and bananas, as Ains would say.
We finish our conversation, and I end up confessing what Jensen said that made me punch him. Coach Lincoln doesn’t really blame me for what I did, and while he doesn’t exactly come out and say it, I think he even finds it slightly honorable that I was defending the woman helping me out with my son.
When I get home, Jack is napping and Ainsley is lying on the couch watching television. She sits up when I walk in as if I caught her doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing.
