Page 2 of Crossing the Lines for Love

“So, do you have full custody?” my father asked.

I nodded. “I do, but if she chooses to visit or asks me to bring him to her, I’m open to it.”

“Mmm, well, she’s lucky you’re the one that knocked her up because men your age these days wouldn’t be so understanding. So…what’s your plan, Son?”

“I plan to enroll in Black Elm University and join the lacrosse team.”

“And what about a job?” He continued to press.

I shrugged. “I can possibly do something part-time, but with school, lacrosse, and Deuce, I won’t be able to work full time.”

“Niko, you’re—” my father began.

“That sounds wonderful, Son. You can have your old room, and my grandson can have the guest room. Ooh, I can’t wait to decorate.”

I could tell my father wasn’t entirely on board, but he’d never go against my mother in a situation like this.

“Pops, I have a nice savings and will pay rent, if that’s make you feel better.”

“We don’t need your money—” my mother started before my father interrupted.

“Like hell, we don’t. I’ll let you know how much to give us each month. Have you thought about daycare?”

“The school has?—”

“Absolutely not! Why would I send my grandson to daycare when I’m here all day?”

My father looked at my mother as she continued to love on their grandson. He shook his head, knowing it was a losing battle.

“Well, I guess that’s settled,” he mumbled.

My parents had me in their mid-thirties and were unable to have more children. Instead of dwelling on it, they put their all into me. When my father became a university professor in his early forties, he demanded my mother quit her job as an English teacher. She didn’t need to be told twice and hadn’t looked back since.

One of her passions was painting, and she did well for herself, selling her artwork. Now, in their late fifties, my father only taught part-time, and they traveled often throughout the year.

“Oh, hush and fix your face. We can still travel when we want. We just have to plan a little further in advance,” my mother said.

“Thank you. I knew I could count on your support, and I don’t take it for granted.”

“This can’t be right.I haven’t been injured since I started playing this game in fourth grade.”

“I know, but the doctor said—” my father, Randall, began.

“I don’t care what the doctor said. I need a second opinion.”

“We can get as many opinions as you want, baby girl, but Dr. Lawrence has no reason to lie to you.”

I threw one of my pillows across the room and used the other to cover my face and stifle a scream. I’d replayed that conversation with my father and the ones I’d had with Dr. Lawrence a thousand times.

In the final game of my senior season, I suffered a career-ending injury. That was three months ago. Since then, I’d had surgery and was toward the end of my rehab sessions, and I still couldn’t believe I couldn’t play lacrosse anymore.

Although I’d earned a degree in sports management, I had no intention of using it so soon unless it related to moving my athletic career forward. God had a way of letting you know youweren’t in control, and I hated the direction my life was headed in.

Along with losing my athletic career, it seemed that I’d also lost the people I thought were my friends. I’d only heard from a couple of my teammates once since I was taken off the field on a stretcher. Hell, even my coaches had gone ghost after a few calls and texts.

“How you doing, baby girl?” my father asked as he entered my bedroom.

“I could be better, but that’s not news.”

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