That Girl (That Girl, #1)(54)

“My name is... My name is Oakley. Sorry, I can’t help but stare at her.”

“Do you want to hold her?” her mother asks.

Before I can respond, the blonde chimes in, “Of course she does. You can see her ovaries screaming right now to make a baby. I have good radar, and she wants to hold sweet Wynnie.”

She has the baby unbuckled and in my arms before I have the chance to respond. At first, my whole body tenses up, then Wynnie shoots me a huge toothless grin. There’s just something about babies’ cheeks that make you smile like a fool.

“Hey, sweet little girl,” I croon.

The women go back to fighting over the pink tutu, the kids compare costumes, and the men talk the game. I’m left holding the baby with no ears or eyes on me. Tears start to well up as I think about my past and how one day Lincoln will have to know everything, down to my name and the town that owned me. I’ll have to come clean if we ever want a wedding, kids, or to go on a simple vacation. All of that requires proof of ID. One day I’ll have to decide, but today I just want to temporarily relieve the pressure.

Leaning down, I whisper my real name into the baby’s ear. It doesn’t fix anything, but it soothes the ache inside me. It’s out, I said it, and I’m okay.





Chapter 16





Game Day at 1,014 Miles



Me: I love you. See you after the game.



Lincoln: I’m scared.



Me: Be yourself. Be us. I love you.



Lincoln: There’s cotton candy waiting on your seat.



Today is the day of all days. The day Lincoln gets to lead his team straight to the championship title. His whole family is filling up their season ticket seats, even his brother. Lincoln’s convinced he came solely for media purposes. He has a bye week and is always looking to put himself out there for the media exposure. He sat with his parents only for a few minutes before he went down to the sidelines. Lincoln’s dad and mom stayed in their seats acting like the two perfect parents. This is only the second game they’ve attended. They had eight opportunities to support him and chose not to.

“Are you f*cking kidding me?”

I hear Jewels and then feel her elbow in my side. She’s trying to point out something. I track her finger, and my eyes land on Monica. She’s sitting right next to Lincoln’s mom. We haven’t seen her for months. Not even a run-in on or off campus. She turns around and flashes me a huge smile. My blood boils when I notice the jersey she’s wearing. It’s Lincoln’s number.

“Hi, Oakley,” she hollers over her shoulder.

Even though we are only a few rows up, I act as if I can’t hear her. I don’t want her antics to affect the game at all. I know Lincoln will be looking up in the crowd, and nothing will hinder his game.

The song Let Go pours from the speakers, and the crowd goes insane as the team takes the field. There’s an electric buzz around the stadium, even more than usual. Everything is taken to a higher level, the competition, the noise level, and the nerves. Jumping up on my chair as usual and waving my cotton candy, I wait for Lincoln’s eyes to find me. It doesn’t take him long, and he raises his helmet to me. He doesn’t take an extra second to look at his mom or who is sitting by her.

“Thank God he didn’t see that,” Jewels says, pointing toward Monica.

I agree. “Yes, because we know he tends to overreact when it comes to that bitch.”

We both laugh at several memories of Lincoln overreacting to Monica-related incidents. It’s not funny, and we shouldn’t be laughing, but sometimes it’s the only thing you can do in ugly situations.

“What happens if they lo…” Jewels tries to get out.

I’m not about to let her finish that sentence. “They’re not. This is our game and our house.”

“Jesus, you need to get a job as a motivational speaker,” Jewels jokes.

“I just have faith in them.”

The crowd settles down as we are forced to take a T.V. timeout before the game starts.

Sitting down, Jewels asks, “Have you told Lincoln?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I tear off a wad of cotton candy. “I didn’t want him worrying about it before the big game.”

“Oakley, it’s not a worry. You think he’ll be mad, don’t you?”

I simply shrug, not knowing how to answer her.

“He’ll be mad if you take care of it. I can’t believe you’ve even thought about it,” she says, trying to catch my gaze.

“Jewels, I never said I was going to. I just said I’m undecided.”

The announcer riles the crowd up, saving me from any further interrogation from Jewels – and from my own thoughts. There are camera crews everywhere. Actual cameras are swinging from a skyline. Yes, everything is hyped up at this game.

Four quarters later, fifty-four to seven, and Lincoln is a conference champ and named the MVP of the game. Unlike other games, loved ones and parents rush the field to get to their players after the trophy presentation. I watch as Monica is right by Lincoln’s mom’s side as they search the field for him. He’s just leaving the platform with his MVP trophy, putting on his new conference champ hat, and scanning the crowd.