Page 221 of The Coach

I watch from the tunnel.

One of my other assistant coaches steps up. “You’re really doing this?”

I nod, jaw tight. “I have to.”

He exhales, then claps me on the shoulder. “Go. We got this.”

I send one last look toward the field, where the guys are battling like hell?—

And then I grab my bag and sprint out of the goddamn stadium.

"Coach, the game's not over!"

The security guy stops me at the gate, looking confused as hell.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“My fiancée is having our baby.” I glance at his badge. “Marcus, right? You got kids?”

He blinks. “Uh…yeah. Yeah I do.”

I grip his shoulder. “Then you know. Let me through.”

He swipes his keycard without hesitation. “Go get your kid, Coach.”

I’m in the car in seconds.

I call my pilot. "Is the jet ready?"

"Gassed up and waiting. But Coach, the air traffic?—"

"Figure it the fuck out."

I hit the pedal, weaving through New Orleans traffic, praying I make it in time.

Because football is my life.

But Ivy?

Ivy is my whole goddamn world.

And I’ll be damned if I miss the moment my baby comes into it.

The jet touches down in Davenport—the nearest airport to Riverbend—just after nine p.m.

I don’t wait for clearance.

The second the wheels hit the ground, I’m out of my seat, pacing the aisle, heart pounding.

Cassie: We’re at Riverbend Memorial. Ivy’s in labor. Hurry.

I sprint off the plane.

A black SUV is waiting.

“Hospital. Now.”

The driver barely gets a nod in before I’m in the backseat, bouncing my knee, checking my phone every goddamn second.

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