15-Donovan

Out of all the days I was going to be late, it had to be today.

I keep glancing at my watch as if it will miraculously turn back time enough for me to make it to the clinic.

I was supposed to pick Shorty up for her ultrasound appointment, but Coach asked to see me. I texted her that I'd meet her there since I didn't know how long the meeting was going to be.

My knee jerks as I sit in the chair, waiting for Coach to arrive.

Where the hell is he?

I text Shorty when the door swings open.

I toss my phone in my gym bag and watch Coach sit across from me. He looks pissed. I can tell by the way his eyes narrow and from how he breathes heavily.

"What did you want to see me about, Coach?" I ask, eager to finish this conversation and make it to the appointment.

"I got a call from Coach Bryant."

The coach from Illinois. Shit.

"Ok." I act cool and aloof.

He slams his hand on the desk. "Are you out of your mind? What the hell possessed you to choose another school? Do you know how hard it is to get into Vanderbilt?"

I knew this conversation would happen, but I didn't realize he would be this pissed off.

"Coach, it's still a good school, and they have a good team."

"I don't give a horse's ass if they're a good team! Vanderbilt was your only shot at making it pro."

"No, it's not. The University of Illinois rank in the top ten—"

"There better be a damn good reason for you to make this foolish decision," he cuts me off.

"There is," I say.

Coach crosses his tree trunk arms across his chest. "Well? I'm waiting to hear what asinine decision made you flush your future down the toilet."

I briskly run my hands through my wet hair and lean back in the chair. "My girl's pregnant."

Coach doesn't say a word or move, so I think it's safe to continue.

"We talked about her moving to Tennessee with me, but with her family here, it wouldn't work out. When I learned I was offered a full ride to the University of Illinois, I had to jump on it. I'll be close enough to be there for her and the baby."

His breathing slows down, but his muscles still look tense. He runs his hands down his face.

"God damnit, boy." He sighs heavily. "You just couldn't keep your dick in your pants, could you?"

I grab the back of my neck and squeeze, not knowing what to say. Coach has always believed in me and kicked my ass whenever I've fucked up. I have the utmost respect for him, so the fact that he's looking at me with disappointment makes me feel like shit.

"Donovan, you are my number one player. You are that good." He leans forward and claps his hands on the desk. "I've been doing this for a long time, kid. I knew the first time I saw you pitch the fastball that you were the weapon I'd been looking for. You are driven, committed, and always willing to put in the work." He leans back and heavily sighs. "I understand and respect your decision. I'll make sure to smooth things over with Vanderbilt. You can still transfer out if your girl is willing to make the move."

"Thank you, Coach."

Coach pushes himself up from the chair, grabs my hand, and shakes it hard. "Be the man I know you can be. You're going to be a great father."

"Wow—I don't know—wow." I lightly chuckle in awe at his reaction.

"Oh, don't get all girly on me." He laughs, letting my hand go. "Go on, get out of here. You're dismissed. I'll see you on Monday."

I give him a thankful nod and leave his office.

Time to see my girl.