Page 39 of Draft Pick

I had to find a way to fix what I’d broken.

Not only for my sake but for the sake of my kid.

A shiver chased my spine at the words that tasted foreign on my tongue. Me? A dad?

The way I saw it, I had two options: fight Starlie to remain a part of my child’s life or walk away.

I knew I couldn’t walk away.

So that left, fighting Starlie.

And I didn’t want to do that either.

I wanted Starlieandthe baby.

So, how could I convince her that I was ready to do this with her — without giving up my dreams of playing for the NFL?

For starters, a big ass apology was in order. I needed to woo my baby mama.

If I could get Starlie to fall in love with me, she wouldn’t think of walking away with my kid.

But how was I supposed to make that happen when she didn’t want anything to do with me?

I had to take a big swing — the stakes were too high to go halfway.

I was scared.

Scared of failing. What if I had a son, and I automatically turned into my dad? No one sets out to be a terrible, overbearing dickhead, it just happened. Social conditioning, childhood imprints, environment – hell, the list went on – and it only served to scare me more.

Worse yet, what if I had a daughter and didn’t know how to relate to her? What if I inadvertently gave my little girl daddy issues, and she became a stripper? Or what if, to protect her, I was too strict, and she rebelled and became adrug-addictedcriminal? If I turn out to be a bad dad, all roads lead to my daughter’s life spiraling into a mess of sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll with a moral compass. The pressure was enough to squash a horse.

My heartbeat fluttered painfully in my chest. Was I having a panic attack? I’d never in my life suffered anything like I was feeling right now.

Not even at my most anxious when I was at my first combine at fourteen. I thought I might throw up while waiting to hit the field to run my first 40-yard dash. I hadn’t fully gone through puberty yet, and D1 coaches were watching and judging me, picking apart my flaws.

But football had been something I understood. Parenthood? I didn’t have a clue.

And what was I supposed to tell my friends? Lincoln and Zay were going to shit a brick when they found out that prick Ulysses had somehow known what Starlie had had no plans to tell me.

God, that hurt.

It was a weird thing to want to punch a man and thank him at the same time. If it hadn’t been for Ulysses flapping his trap at the club, I might’ve missed the most important news of my life.

Goddamn it, Starlie. How could you do me like that?

I couldn’t blame her anger and confusion, but I was hurt by her lack of consideration during a major decision that affected me, too.

What was I going to do, though? Cry about it? No. I was the kind of guy who got shit done.

So it came back down to finding a way to woo Starlie.

To win her back.

And I had to hope and pray I had what it took to turn the tide.

And what it took to be a good father.

Especially when I didn’t know how the hell to do either.

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