Chapter 18

"T here's your daddy, babe," I whisper against Amelia's hair as I hold her on my lap. "He's showing off, scoring two goals tonight."

Even if the announcers weren't discussing him by name—which, of course, they are—and I couldn't see his number on the back of his jersey, I'd still know it was him simply by the way that he moves. A way that makes my heart squeeze in my chest just from watching him.

She doesn't respond because she's dozed off again, but I still brag about her dad to her every few minutes when the announcers say he's done something great. Every now and then, she coughs, but Logan had the doctor come to the house to check her over last night, and he said her cough is just from post-nasal drip from her runny nose and that she just has some sort of virus. She feels absolutely terrible, and despite the vaporizers, Vicks VapoRub, and Motrin I've given her, she doesn't seem to be improving. She won't eat or drink anything either, but the doctor assured us last night that it will pass and that we just need to be patient.

I've never been so nervous in my life.

Amelia, Clyde, and I have hardly left the couch all day. And I doubt I'll sleep tonight either.

Logan has texted about one hundred times today, as well as called before his game to check on her. He will be home sometime tomorrow morning. I promised him I have it all under control. And I do, I guess. But I'm just not used to this. I feel like there's nothing I can do to make her better, so instead, I've just been snuggling her close to me.

I brush my hand over her forehead. Despite giving her Motrin every six hours, she's still fighting off her fever. Hopefully, tomorrow, she'll start to turn the corner for the better.

Her stomach muscles tighten, and her body tenses just before she begins to cough, waking herself up.

"It's okay, sweetie. I'm right here," I whisper, rubbing her back.

She whimpers, wiping her nose and snuggling against me. "I love you, Maci." She barely croaks out the words before she coughs again.

Warmth spreads across my chest just before that painful feeling stabs my heart. "I love you too," I say, fighting back the urge to cry. "So very much."

"Hey, Sterns. I got a joke for you." Smith can hardly contain his laughter as he tucks the rest of his shit into his duffel bag. "What do clouds wear under their pants?" He looks around before grinning at me. "Thunderpants."

"No." I shake my head, holding my hand up at him. "Nope. No. That's just fucking wrong, Sawyer. Dad jokes are my thing. It's funny when I tell them. When you do it, it's just fucking weird."

"Nah, it's weird when you do it too, bud," Kolt calls out, "but you do it anyway."

"I'm still gonna keep telling them." I shrug. "One day, you'll learn to like them, you grumpy old bastard," I tease Kolt before taking my phone out.

I look down at the message I just got back from Maci after she read mine. She promises me that everything is okay there and that Amelia is resting and has had her medicine.

Tucking it into my pocket, I head toward where Coach Jacobs stands with the defensive and offensive coaches.

"Hey, Coach. Can I have a quick word with you?"

He nods once before glancing at the men next to him. "We can finish this conversation at dinner tonight, fellas."

As he turns away from them, he tips his chin up. "Great game, Sterns. What's up?"

I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the end locker. "Hey, so I know we all usually fly back together, but since our flight isn't until tomorrow morning, I was wondering if I could have permission to switch to a flight out later tonight." I swallow, trying to gauge his reaction. "Amy's really sick, and I just … I need to get back to her."

He thinks it over for a second before giving me a curt nod and patting my shoulder quickly. "I see no reason why not, Sterns. Go ahead."

"Thank you, sir." I sigh in relief, but before I can rush off, he stops me.

"You're a good man, Sterns. A great player and a pretty incredible father." He doesn't smile—because I'm not sure Coach ever actually smiles—but he comes as close as he's ever gotten to one when talking to me. "Proud of you, son."

"Thank you, Coach," I manage to say, still in shock because he isn't a deep man and that might be the nicest shit he's ever said to me in his years as my coach. "I appreciate that so much."

"All right, get on out of here before I turn back into my asshole self." He jerks his chin toward the door. "We'll cover interviews for today."

As I head toward the door, Kolt stops me. "Everything good, man? I didn't hurt your feelings by making fun of your shitty jokes, did I?"

His towel is wrapped around his waist from his shower, and his hair is still wet. Kolt oozes confidence and has an anger streak the size of Texas, but he's a good guy.

"Nah, man, you oughta know better than that. The fact that my shitty jokes annoy you is just more of a reason to tell them." I sigh. "Gonna catch an earlier flight back to Maine though. Amelia's been sick the past few days, and I just want to be home with her—that's all."

He reaches his hand out, and I smack mine to his before he pulls me against him for a half hug.

"All right, brother. Good luck. Tell Amy that Uncle Kolt said to feel better soon."

"Will do." I grin, pulling back. "Now, I know I'm a handsome fucker and all, but stop trying to hug up on me while you're damn near naked, Kolburne." I chuckle. "Safe travels home, bud. See you at practice."

"You loved that hug," he utters, looking as amused as Kolt Kolburne can physically show.

"Fuck yes, I did," I agree before heading out of the locker room.

Kolt isn't one for hugging and touchy-feely shit either.

What the fuck is up with these guys today?

It's three in the morning when I finally make it back to my house. I'm fucking beat, but I can't wait to see my girls. Even though I'm sure they are both asleep. At least, I hope they are because Maci must be exhausted.

Being a parent is hard on a daily basis. But if you add a sick kid into the mix, it's absolutely exhausting. Maci might not be Amelia's mom, but right now, she's had to take on the responsibilities of one. And she's done it so incredibly seamlessly too. I mean, fuck, for the first few weeks—no, months—of Amelia's life, I wanted to cry every time she did. And not only because I felt bad for her, but because I was so fucking tired that I was surprised I didn't start to hallucinate and see unicorns or some shit walking around my house.

Pushing the front door open, I set my bags down before slowly creeping through the house as quietly as I can. I tease Maci sometimes that Clyde is the worst guard dog because the fucker doesn't ever bark or even wake up when we come home, but at this moment in time, I'm pretty thankful for that. Walking down the hall, I first head toward my bedroom to change into sweatpants.

When I enter my room, the bathroom light is on, and the door is half open, lighting up the room just enough for my eyes to drink in the sight before me. A sight that I never knew would make my heart swell so fucking big in my chest. I take in Maci and Amelia asleep in my bed, their faces only six or so inches apart, Maci's arm slung around Amelia's body. Clyde lies next to the bed; when he spots me, he wags his tail and lifts his head slightly, but after stretching, he flops back over and starts snoring again.

It looks like the most natural thing, the two of them. I've noticed it for a while now, how they exist together. Maci has stepped in as a motherly figure. And Amelia loves her so much. She's comfortable with her, and most importantly … she trusts her.

For a few minutes, I simply stare in pure awe because there's no mistaking the love between Amelia and Maci.

Maci has become a part of this family. She and Clyde complete this household, and I can't imagine not having them both here. That's why I know, whatever her secret is, it can't be anything too bad. She's too good for that. She's truly one of the best people I've ever known.

After I slide my pants off, I pull my shirt off and tug on some sweatpants. Tiptoeing as best I can as a man of my stature, I climb in next to Amelia and listen to her nasally little nose as she breathes. Looking at her and Maci once more, I smile because, goddamn, I miss home when I'm away.

My whole world in one bed.

Closing my eyes, I drift off to sleep, unsure of how long it'll last before Amelia coughs or fusses, likely waking us all up.