That Girl (That Girl, #1)(55)

“Let’s go,” Jewels says, pulling my hand.

I follow her lead, walking down to the gate, only to be stopped by a security guard.

“Only family.”

“We are,” Jewel immediately pipes up, stroking a hand over her now visible baby bump for emphasis.

“Let me see your tickets. They are marked.”

Looking up, I see Lincoln’s dad and Levi shaking his hand, and his dad gives him a hug. The smile covering his face is priceless, and I only wish I could be there to hold his hand. I guarantee his dad didn’t exchange a word, but that hug and being at his game is worth a million dollars to Lincoln.

His mom and Monica finally make it to them. A camera crew engulfs the small crowd, and a microphone is shoved in Lincoln’s face.

“Oh my God, Jewels, ESPN is interviewing Lincoln. Look!” I scream.

The joy coursing my veins is immediately iced down when his family pushes in on the interview, and his mom nudges Monica to stand by his side. Lincoln doesn’t notice her, as his attention is solely focused on the interview. I can’t hear a word, but can only imagine how hard his heart is pumping.

It’s your time, Lincoln, shine, baby, shine.

The interview cuts and the crew is on to the next player. The crowd mixes together, and I lose sight of Lincoln. I spend several minutes scanning the chaos to only see Monica at his side while his coaches hug and congratulate him.

“This f*cking blows,” Jewels declares.

“Beyond words,” I agree, sitting down in a stadium seat.

Everything inside is swirling in a sea of emotions. I’m beyond elated for Lincoln, the win, the hug, and the interview, but an ugly green-eyed monster is also churning inside me. I want to rip Monica’s eyeballs out of her f*cking head.

Minutes pass, and I give up hope, burying my face in my lap.

“Oakley.”

Again, “Oakley.”

Looking up, I see Lincoln running toward me and waving.

“What are you doing?” he shouts over the crowd noise.

I throw my hands up in the air and shake my head. Lincoln makes it ten feet from me and is grabbed by one of his coaches.

“Locker room, now.”

“Give me ten seconds.” Lincoln turns back to the stands. “What are you doing?”

“They wouldn’t let me down there, and your mom took Monica,” I say as tears stream down my face, and I get as close to the barrier as I can.

Lincoln turns around and jogs back toward the bench and I let the real tears flow. I watch as all the assistant coaches try to herd the team into the locker room.

“Oh my God, look, Lincoln,” Jewels yells.

Looking at the bench again, I see Lincoln, Tiny, and several other teammates toting a bench toward us. They reach the fence and throw the bench down, looking right at me.

“Fuck this.” I climb to the very top of the barrier and steady myself to jump over, while Lincoln stands on top of the bench to catch me. Sliding into his sweaty arms, I cry even harder.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

Feeling embarrassed for being so selfish, I bury my face in his neck.

“I was so close to you, but so far away. It scared me.”

“I was coming for you. Trust me, baby, I’ve imagined packing you out on this field after winning the championship game every night since I met you. This is us.”

Sliding down from his hold, I grab his hand and say, “This is us.”

Tiny passes us as he climbs up the bench to get Jewels, but before he does, he and Lincoln embrace each other. Lincoln never lets go of my hand while he and Heath have their moment together.

We walk out to the center of the field where all the streamers have fallen.

“Get your phone out,” he says.

I hand Lincoln my phone, and we pose in front of the conference trophy. Then he hands me his MVP one to hold.

“No, this is yours,” I say.

“I only have two hands. One to take the pic, and one to hold my real trophy, you.”

I bounce up on my toes and kiss him in front of the crowd on the fifty-yard line. The sound of the phone snapping pictures is the first thing I hear, and then cheers from the fans follow.

“Let me help you out, son,” Lincoln’s dad says.

He takes the phone from Lincoln’s hands, steps back, and takes several pictures of us. Lincoln scoops me up in his arms and cradles me like a baby, tilts his head back, and screams a victory cry.

“Thanks, Dad,” Lincoln says, setting me down.

“Get one with me and Monica,” Elaine demands as she runs up to the group, breathing heavily.

Before Lincoln has a chance to speak, his dad does. “Cut the shit now, Elaine.”

I’m guessing Elaine is never put in her place by the look on her face. I stare Monica down, and she floats away and is gone in a matter of seconds. Elaine tries to open her mouth and is immediately stopped by Lincoln’s dad and Levi. She finally marches off the field.

“You kids want to come over for pizza?” his dad asks.

Lincoln looks at me for approval, and I nod. His mom isn’t the most pleasant thing ever, but I know deep down Lincoln needs to keep feeling the approval from his father any way he can get it.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” he answers.

“Your mom just has a hard time letting go of things, son. She had this pizza party get-together planned, but I didn’t want her making a big deal about it until after the win.”