44. Carter

44

CARTER

“Coach Owens is calling.”

I pull my eyes off Abby and Valerie who are still huddled together. We’ve moved to the medical office located on the suite level, out of sight of understandably curious onlookers who’d gaped at the scene they stumbled upon at the Super Bowl.

I don’t have to check social media to know there are likely dozens of posts discussing the incident. My PR team can handle that in the future. Right now, I’m just soaking in the relief I feel knowing Abby and Valerie are here and not seriously injured.

Even though the EMT told Valerie her cut wasn’t too deep, he insisted she be monitored for a little longer when he learned she’d hit her head. He wanted to ensure she didn’t sustain any lasting damage.

Since Abby refused to be separated from Valerie, and I refused to be separated from Abby, here we are. I’ve been trying to catch Valerie’s attention to gauge her feelings on my presence here, but she hasn’t looked my way since we entered the office.

“Are you going to answer that?” Valerie asks her dad when he doesn’t say or do anything after announcing his boss is calling.

Coach Palmer joined us shortly after we relocated to the office. From the boisterous noise I hear through the door, I’d guess it’s halftime.

“Do you mind?” The defensive coordinator asks his daughter.

“Of course not.”

Coach nods and tucks himself into the corner of the room to answer the head coach’s call.

“Shouldn’t you be in the locker room with the team?”

I meet my daughter’s gaze. “No.” The game is the least of my concerns.

I told my family Abby’s all right, but I denied my mom’s offer to take my place at her side. This is where I need to be right now.

“Are you sure?” Abby’s forehead furrows. “The team wasn’t playing so good earlier.”

Valerie suppresses a grin.

I huff a laugh. “Yeah… I know.”

“This is the Super Bowl, Dad,” she says in a serious voice. “It’s an important game.”

“It’s not more important than you,” I counter.

She purses her little lips. “That’s nice, but I’m fine. I want you to win the Super Bowl.”

I shake my head. “Even if I go play, there’s no guarantee I’ll win.”

“Yes, there is.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Valerie is here.” She motions toward her former nanny.

Valerie’s surprised expression matches mine.

“What does that mean?” She asks with a semi-awkward laugh.

“You’re Dad’s good luck charm,” Abby states as a matter of fact.

My cheeks heat. “Abby,” I cough. “That’s?—”

“That’s what you said,” she interrupts before I can finish. “Remember?”

Of course, I remember. It was an off-handed response to Abby and Andy pestering me about why I was suddenly playing so much better after their nanny started working for us.

I didn’t want to go into detail about how no longer needing to worry about them so much freed my mind to focus on football, so I made a crack about Valerie being my lucky charm.

It turned out to be true, but I don’t want to admit how much I value the woman in front of me when I’m the guy who ended things between us.

Maybe this can be your chance to get her back?

No.

I can’t do that.

Valerie’s just experienced a traumatic event. And while it’s not my fault, she wouldn’t have found herself in the situation if it weren’t for me.

Now is not the time to tell her I made a mistake and beg her to take me back.

No matter how much I want to.

I press my lips together, struggling with how to respond without putting my foot in my mouth.

“That’s sweet of your dad to say,” Valerie speaks, avoiding my gaze when I look her way. “But I think your dad cares more about being with you than the game.”

“But I’m fine, ” Abby repeats, sounding exasperated. Her gaze bounces between me and Valerie several times. Ultimately, she shakes her head before straightening her spine with determination. “Dad, I want you to play.”

“But I?—”

“We can’t let bad things stop us from living our lives,” the words sound like they belong to someone far older than a six-year-old. “Right?” She levels me with a pointed look.

There’s no arguing against this little girl. She’s wise beyond her years. And stubborn like no other.

“Are you sure?” I press. “You don’t want me to stay with you?”

“I want you to play in the game,” she insists. “I want you to win.”

“Okay,” I sigh, resigned to the fact I have a determined little girl on my hands. “I’ll play.”

“That’s good to hear,” Coach Palmer rejoins our conversation, holding his phone up. “Because Coach Owens was just begging for me to ask you to rejoin the team in the second half. The defense felt the loss of your leadership last half.”

“See, Dad?” Abby says. “The team needs you.”

I nod. “Fine. I’ll play on one condition.”

“What is it?” Abby and Coach Palmer ask at the same time.

I turn and lock eyes with Valerie. “I’ll only play if you, Andy, and Valerie come down to watch the game from the sidelines.”

Valerie’s brows lift in surprise before they furrow in confusion. I sense she’s seconds away from objecting, but her father speaks first.

“Done,” Coach Palmer declares. “Now, get your ass to the locker room. We have a Super Bowl to win.”