The Game (That Girl, #2)(43)

“We’ve been trying. I got my period today.” She stops to catch her breath. “The doctors warned us after my surgery that I’ll probably never be able to have a baby. Lincoln never believed them. We’ve tried for over a year now.”

Her words hit me hard, and my heart hurts for my best friend. Growing up, Lynlee never wanted kids, but after experiencing how wonderful life could be with Lincoln, she was thrilled to bring a baby into the world and provide it with everything she didn’t have.

“I’ll never be able to rock a baby to sleep or make them cupcakes on their birthday.”

“It’s okay, Lynlee. It’s okay. Don’t cry, sweetie. It will all work out. Have you told Lincoln?”

“No, he knows my period is getting close, but I don’t want to upset him before his big game.”

“You need to tell him. He might think no news is good news.”

“I know,” she whispers. “It’s just hard to admit when it’s your own body not cooperating.”

“He’ll be there for you and understand. I know he wouldn’t want you to be upset.”

A slight giggle escapes between her tears. “I know, he always says it’s just pizza every time I break the news to him.”

‘It’s just pizza’ is their thing. Their way of telling each other everything will be okay.

“He’s right. It’s just pizza. Everything will work out, baby girl.”

Reaching over to the coffee table, I grab her purse and dig for her cellphone. I find Lincoln’s number and hit send.

“Here you go.”

Lynlee remains in my lap, and I squeeze tighter and simply hold my friend as she makes the difficult phone call.





Chapter 11





Jazzy



“Ahhh, I can’t believe we’re driving to Lincoln’s first home game in Denver. I’m so nervous.”

“No shit,” I reply. “You’ve spilled your coffee twice, burned your forehead with your straightener, and who knows what else.”

“Aren’t you so excited?”

“Thrilled,” I lie.

I’m driving us to Denver, because with Lynlee’s track record she’d have us in a triple car accident. It’s pretty damn cute how excited she is to watch Lincoln play. It really blows my mind. I guess the players stay at a certain hotel the night before the game with no family, but tonight after the game Lincoln will be able to stay with us. Which I’m still convinced will be awkward. I begged Lynlee to let me get my own room, and I probably will still end up doing so.

“You do realize we’re going to a Monday Night Football game, right?”

“Why, yes, I do, Miss ESPN.”

“They called again.”

“What?” I scream. “Did you tell Lincoln yet?”

“No.”

“Why? You’re crazy.”

“Because I don’t know what I want to pursue.”

My god, I don’t understand Lynlee at all. ESPN has contacted her two times now wanting her to become a correspondent. They’ve even promised her a travel schedule close to Lincoln’s.

“C’mon, you could be my claim to fame,” I joke.

“Have you heard from Levi?”

“Wow, you sure do know how to kill a good time.”

“Well?”

“Yes, he said he’s coming in three days and refuses to come to the game.”

“Damn Wilks pride. They can be stubborn asses.”

“Yes, it’s okay, though. He’s been working really hard, and I think his trainer is moving to Fort Collins. He found one he really likes.”

The whole situation is not okay. I want to see Levi more than I’ve wanted anything else in my life, and it is so silly considering it’s only been a little over a week. The other night when he called, the excitement in his voice made my whole day. Dallas’ sports medicine doctor traveled to Denver to check him out, giving him the go ahead to get back on the field in one month. That means nearly four complete weeks with him.

“Okay, we’re heading straight to the stadium.”

“Lynlee, we’ll be like three hours early.”

“Yeah, so?” She gives me a questioning look. “Hey, I don’t know the stadium or how to get in, or exactly where our seats are.”

I decide against arguing with her and just face the fact my ass will be sitting in a stadium for the next seven hours. A little twinge of hope lingers inside me that Levi might be waiting for us in the hotel room. That was just shot to hell with Lynlee’s enthusiasm.

Four hours later and Jewels’ description of Lynlee’s pre-game ritual was spot on. We found our seats a whole hell of a lot easier than we found a parking spot, and Lincoln had two bags of cotton candy waiting on Lynlee’s seat. We both are wearing his jersey, and I’m very tempted to snap a pic to send to Levi, but have no idea what kind of day he’s having. I haven’t talked to him all day. Of course, I’ve texted several times, but no response.

It’s a beautiful fall day, and the sun is warm enough to wear short sleeves. Part me almost wishes I had worn shorts.

“Time for more cotton candy, Jazzy.”

“Are you freaking insane or just set on getting diabetes?”