The Renegades offense got off to a good start today, scoring the first points of the game on the opening drive. Maddox was able to find a hole on third down, sneaking right into the end zone on a nine-yard quarterback keeper. But the defense hasn’t been able to find their groove yet, which is why we’re down by ten with about a minute to go in the first half.
I’m able to funnel my guy inward, keeping my eyes on the quarterback while he reads the field. He checks the opposite flat, not finding an open receiver as he scans the middle, his gaze locking onto the tight endwho’s been knocking me around all day. He’s bigger, taller, and stronger than I am, but I’ve got one thing he doesn’t.
Speed.
As soon as the ball leaves the quarterback’s hands, I take off, my feet pounding against the turf. I’ve timed it perfectly, angling myself so I can swoop in and disrupt the play. It’s third and long—thanks to a big sack on the last down—and they aren’t in field goal range, so we don’t need anything fancy here. If we can prevent them from moving more than fifteen yards, they’ll have to punt, giving Maddox and the offense another chance to knot things up before halftime.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins with every stride, heavy breaths pushing through my mouthguard as I give it everything I have. But it’s not good enough as I dive, narrowly missing the ball with my fingertips as it hits the Cyclones’ tight end right in the hands. The safeties are there to make the tackle, ending the drive two yards short of a first down…absolutely no thanks to me.
I sigh in frustration, tearing my helmet off as soon as I’m on the sideline. No matter how hard I try to focus, my goddamn mind is all over the place. I know shit at home is really heavy, but if I don’t find a way to push it aside—at least for the next couple of hours—I’m going to let my teammates down when they need me the most.
Butfuck. I can’t stop thinking about her.
I’ve had a weird pit in my stomach all day, starting the moment I woke up in the hotel this morning. Itexted Sydney twice to have her check in on Finley. She assured me that she was fine and that she had all but bullied her to get out of the house. It eased my mind for a while, but now it’s back, and I can’t seem to concentrate on anything else.
“You almost had it, man,” my safety, Drake Francis, says. I respond with a noncommittal shrug as he slaps my shoulder. We both know I could’ve had that interception with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back on a normal day. I’m just completely fucked up, and it’s going to cost us a shot at the Super Bowl.
The offense moves the ball down the field, eating up about forty yards in less than thirty seconds. Emmett is having a hell of a game, with eight receptions on nine targets already. At this rate, he’ll easily break the Renegades’ record—that he set himself last season. That’s the funny thing about being a second-year expansion team. We’re quite literally blazing a whole new trail, setting the tone for generations of players to come.
Maddox hands the ball off to our running back, and he finds a hole in the defense, blasting toward the end zone. I hold my breath, my heart hammering inside my chest. But before I can watch him break the plane into the end zone, a very loud feminine voice shouts my name from somewhere in the distance.
“Theo! Oh my God, Theo!”
I turn, my eyes scanning the sideline until Sydney shoves her way through a group of men. Two security guards are hot on her tail, but she doesn’t give a fuck as she rushes toward me. Her expression is panicked, which immediately causes me to go on high alertbecausewhat the fuck is she doing down here?Only players, staff, and certain members of the media are allowed near the field during a game, and even though she’s the owner’s daughter, she doesn’t have the credentials.
“Theo!” She waves her arms frantically, her chest heaving with heavy breaths as she runs.
“Syd,” I say, eating up the space between us as fast as I can. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Finley,” she replies, gasping for air. “She’s in labor.”
Fuck.
My blood runs cold, head spinning as everything around me begins to sound muffled and warped. I vaguely register the guards grabbing her by the arms, watching helplessly as they attempt to remove her from the sideline. She twists from their grip, yelling something about having them fired if they don’t get their hands off her, but I’m frozen where I stand. It’s only when she wraps her fingers around my forearm that I snap back to awareness, her words returning to full volume as she speaks.
“We have to go! Now!”
I swallow, nodding my head like an idiot while everything sinks in.
Finley is in labor.
She’s having the baby.
I have to get to her.
“Let’s go,” I murmur, still not really sure what’s going on. It doesn’t matter, though. Syd can fill me in on the details while we’re en route. I can’t miss the birth of my daughter.
Without a single word to anyone, we’re gone in a flash, bolting down the tunnel as fast as our feet will carry us. It’s quite possible that I just fucked my entire career by leaving in the middle of a game, but I don’t give a shit. Some things in life are bigger than football, and this is one of them.
“Come on,” she says, the sound of my cleats and her combat boots echoing off the cement walls. “I’ve got a car waiting to take us to the airport. I had the equipment manager grab everything from your cubby in the locker room, so you’ll have that. Livvy said she’ll have Maddox get your luggage after the game.”
“Finley?” I choke out, unable to focus on anything besides her in this moment. Is she okay? Is she alone? Will someone call her doctor? I have a million questions, none of which I can articulate with the way my mind is reeling.
“She’s good. She’s at the hospital now,” she replies, leading me toward the player exit, where a black car awaits. I let Syd climb in first, following closely behind—pads, uniform, and all—as I settle into the seat.
“What happened?” I ask. “Did you talk to her?”
She shakes her head, looking out the window as the driver takes off toward the highway. “No. She ran into an old friend at the coffee shop, and he rushed her to the hospital. She was in a lot of pain, but he had the good sense to dial the last number on her call log, which was me. He was adamant about me getting the baby’s dad to her, so that’s what I’m doing.”
