Page 132 of False Start
Marshall. The move. The wedding we hadn’t even started planning yet.
The Big Secret News.
Giana did all she could to not react, to play it cool and not cause a scene, but when I revealed that I was pregnant, she couldn’t help herself.
She burst into tears, clinging to me and proving yet again that her size didn’t mean shit when it came to the hugs that girl could give.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered when she finally released me, swiping at her face. “These damned hormones. I cry at every car commercial and country song now, too.”
“Relatable,” I said, and we laughed together, her squeezing my hands in hers.
“Ugh, okay, I really have to go,” she said, sneaking a peek at the play clock. “But we will all get together soon. And I’m adding you to the weekly Zoom call with the girls. We have so much to talk about. And so much to plan!”
I chuckled, my heart warming with the most unfamiliar sensation.
It had been a long time since I’d had a group of girlfriends.
“Congratulations, by the way,” she whispered. “I can’t wait for Kyle’s Daddy era.”
“Thank you, G. And thanks for not being… thanks for not judging our situation.”
She frowned. “Judging? Why on earth would I?”
I shrugged. “I mean, let’s be honest… it is all a bit crazy.”
At that, Giana sighed and smiled up at me like the sun beam that she was, her hands squeezing mine once more.
“All the best love stories are.”
Kyle
Nothing I experienced at the collegiate level could have ever truly prepared me for what I’d experience in the NFL.
I heard the stories from other players about the after-game madness on the field. I remembered Holden telling us all after his first few games how the hits were bigger, harder — the kind that would steal your breath and leave your head spinning. I knew to expect more cameras and interviews, to have higher demands put on me, to have coaches breathing down my throat demanding me to be better.
And yet, here I was, seven weeks into the season, and I still felt like a little kid who just took his training wheels off.
My confidence was building, but slowly, like thick syrup draining down a very small straw. I felt myself getting stronger, faster, and learning my way around my new team and my new opponents.
Still, my stats weren’t what I wanted them to be. I only had one-hundred-and-fifty-two receiving yards and one touchdown. We weren’t even halfway through the season, and I knew I hadthe opportunity to have a great rookie showing by the end of it all.
But I hated where I was currently.
I wanted more. I was thirsty.Hungry. Ready to devour.
I just needed my body to catch up to my brain.
And while I’d thrived off the media attention and brand deals in college, they felt overwhelming now. I found myself slacking on social media, focusing only on what Giana said was absolutely necessary. I recorded commercials. I posed for pictures for the brands sponsoring me. I took the interviews she or the team’s PR coordinator instructed me to.
But at the end of a game, I didn’t want to flex or show off — even if we won. I’d lost the desire to take out my phone and film a selfie, or to be front and center at a post-game press conference.
Giana assured me it would come back, once I felt more comfortable.
As it was, the only thing I thought of after a game was getting home to Madelyn and Sebastian.
We’d moved into the new house just before the start of the school year and, in turn, the regular season. And while we might have picked the most chaotic time to make such a change, it was like the most natural shift for all of us.
Sebastian loved his new school and our new home. Heespeciallyloved his new room, which was twice the size of his old one. Plus, we had a pool, and a hot tub, and an outdoor court to play on, and a huge yard, and a view of the water. Upstairs, we’d made a playroom all for him — complete with an epic case to display his favorite rocks.
