“Well, that’s not far from the truth,” I tease.
Parker, ever the gentle giant, chimes in. “Mom would want you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I would love to have a relationship with you like J.D. and Greyson have.” Parker folds his long fingers over Witt’s shoulder, squeezing and shooting Witt a hopeful smile.
Witt doesn’t respond but shakes his head. Mom’s passing affected us all differently. I was six, Parker was five, Greyson sixteen, and John David almost eighteen, so Witt feels left out anytime the subject of Mom comes up.
“Be honest with Greyson and Sutton. They’ll understand your point of view.”
“I was being stupid.”
“Okay, come on. Let’s go back in and hold the baby.”
When we come back, Dad grabs Witt, gives him a giant bear hug, and under his breath says, “I love you, son. I remember the day you were born. I laid you on her chest and she cried. She kept mumbling about how handsome and strong you were.”
Witt leans into him but, again, stays silent.
Sutton asks Witt, “We decided we want to name her after you. Witley Suzanne.”
“Oh my God, I love it!” I clap and bounce on my toes.
His eyes go wide. “Witley. After me?”
Greyson says, “When Mom was pregnant with you, she always said you were going to be an MMA fighter since you were always kicking. We want our baby girl to be a fighter like you.”
Witt acts unconcerned and finally says, “It’s your baby.”
Greyson says to Witt, “We want you to be the first to hold her. Say hello to Witley Suzanne O’Ryan. Now sit so you don’t drop her.” The last part is more of a command.
I’m not sure if Witt is acting repulsed or if he really is, but in our family, it’s an enormous honor to be the first one to hold a newborn. Greyson chose Witt, not Dad or J.D. or even me. He wants Witt to feel special, the way Mom made the rest of us feel.
Suddenly, I’m crying like a baby. “She’s so beautiful.” I stroke her soft little head while my little brother holds her, wondering if I’m carrying a baby.
NINETEEN
MATT
“Can you take me to the store?” Noelle asks as we’re leaving the hospital. “I want to get the house ready for when they come home. Meals, decorations, the works.”
“You have a broadcast meeting in the morning.”
“Then we’ll be fast, please?” Her mouth tilts, full of hope and happiness.
“It’s almost midnight. I can’t believe the nurses let us stay,” I say as I pull the handle on the truck door, and it takes three times before it unlatches. MaybeHollyis ready for retirement.
“That’s not a no.”
What do I do? I drive to a twenty-four-hour store like we’re planning a heist. Paper goods, freezer pans, foil, balloons, string, and enough food to feed an army or a football team. Everyone will come to see the golden couple’s baby girl. They love Greyson, but the players and their families adore Sutton. She listens and always finds a way to move season ticket holders around to give extended family an opportunity to come see the Armadillos up close.
I come to a stoplight and need to break the tie in my head. Do I take her to my condo near here? Or do I take her to her home? My thumbs strum on the steering wheel when the light turns green.
“It’s green.”
“I know,” I say, glancing at her smiling from ear to ear. “My place is closer, so the freezer food won’t melt, and it’s close to the network for you in the morning.” My voice trails off, sounding like I’m making excuses to take her to my place.
“Coach Stricker, are you inviting me to your house? To spend the night?”
A humorless breath escapes because wanting her feels like both the best and worst idea I’ve ever had. Guess what I do?
“It’s been a long drive. I need some rest,” I explain. It’s not a lie, but I want one more night with her. A night when her family won’t stop by or call because they’re exhausted too.
