Bad Boy's Baby Part 28

"We'll need a better answer than that."

"Why?"

"Because I am living with you, but we're not married. I'm not working. For all they know, I was fired for messing around with you. It looks bad."

"What would make it better? Wanna get married?"

He was impossible. "You have to take this seriously."

"I am."

"I'm not marrying you to avoid the press, Jack." My heart thudded too hard. "We're a young, modern couple. We don't need to be married to have a baby. It'll just be harder without it."

"Then let's get married. What does it matter?"

Jack could be romantic, or he could be an idiot.

Tonight, he was an idiot.

I stared at the road and willed the car to return to the house before the conversation got real.

"We're not getting married," I said.

Jack shrugged. "If it shuts them up? If it stops them from calling my child illegitimate?"

"He is illegitimate, technically."

Jack's jaw tensed. "That makes the baby sound unwanted. d.a.m.n it. I remember working hard to make that baby."

It wasn't a boast, but I relived the memories. What calmed me only frustrated him more.

"All we need to do is be careful," I said. "Nothing needs to change."

"Fine."

I bit my lip. My stomach flipped. Was he satisfied with how things were? Wasn't he wondering about a future? What it meant that we were still sleeping together? What would happen when the baby came?

Jack pa.s.sed a car on the highway, blitzing by entirely too fast. He had control of the car though, complete and total control, reading every b.u.mp in the road and sound of the engine with ease. How could he be so confident about everything, especially when I wouldn't dare plunge into the darkness as effortlessly as he did?

I took the leap. "I guess we have to talk about it sooner or later."

"Talk about what?"

"About...how we're doing this. You asked me to move in, but how are we...what did you..."

"You're living with me. What's to talk about?"

I exhaled a shaky breath. I hated that I was without a plan, without even a clue how to approach a man who'd get married because it was easier than facing a reporter. Jack didn't have the same goals as me, he hardly seemed to share any of the responsibilities I wanted in life.

Except the baby.

Except staying in his arms at night. Flirting with him in the house. Kissing away our frustrations.

"Are we raising the child together?" I asked, finally. "Or...how did you want custody..."

His voice roughened. "I told you. You won't be alone. I'm going to be there for my kid."

"Okay," I said. "But you know what this will look like, right?"

"What?"

"You can't be seen with other women. You can't go out and party. You can't get into trouble, especially if Ainsley is watching. We have to look like...like a real couple."

"And what do we look like now?"

His hands twisted over the wheel. Mine folded in my lap. I couldn't breathe.

I didn't know.

Did he even know?

Did he know what he did to me? How he made me feel?

It was stupid to surrender to a man who couldn't go one night without getting into trouble. He had no self-control, no desire to be responsible. Our fling was fun now, while I was in shape and before a screaming baby invaded his bachelor pad, but who knew what would happen in the future?

I read enough articles. Witnessed enough of Ainsley's reports. I couldn't imagine Jack changing diapers and dealing with colic if something more tempting captured his interest.

So did we look like together?

Easy. I was Leah. Kiss.

I couldn't be any more.

"I'm your pregnant ex-publicist," I said. "And we look like a perfectly content couple."

"Is that it?" Jack pumped with adrenaline and testosterone. He'd fight anyone now, including me.

"I'm also the mother of your child. We'll be okay as long as you behave until the baby is born. Do that, and I'm sure you can convince the league you've changed."

"And what do I have to do to convince you of that?"

I looked away, nibbling on my nail. Jack shook his head before I could speak. He turned off the highway, heading to the house.

His house.

Our house?

"Forget it," he said. "There's the answer."

"Jack."

"I can't convince you that I'm anything but a f.u.c.k-up. You're worse than Ainsley, you know that? You got me all figured out, like I'm another bullet point on your list to check off once I make that final mistake."

"You're more than a checkmark."

"Bulls.h.i.t. You have less faith in me than the league or my f.u.c.king team or the media."

"That's not-"

"Combined."

I wished I could have said something, anything, but I didn't have a response.

Not when he was right.

And not when I knew I hurt him that badly.

"Tell you what, Kiss." Jack didn't let the revelation steal his confidence. "I'm gonna prove myself. Not just to them, but to you and the baby. Then maybe one day you'll see the man I really am."

My heart fluttered.

I could see exactly the type of man he could become. It was the reason I shared his bed, agreed to have the baby.

But it wasn't up to me to believe him.

He had to want to change.

And I really hoped he would.

Chapter Seventeen Jack.

The whistle blew, and I saw red.

I spent the morning in the weight room. Mid-morning running laps. Late morning scouring the playbook.

This afternoon was practice. Full pads and contact. People watching-media, coaches, fans.

Everyone in attendance to witness as I melted-down in pure, unbridled rage.

I don't know who p.i.s.sed me off more, but my temper snapped. Life decided to f.u.c.k me all at once.

First, the Rivets declined the contract renegotiation. Then an article appeared about my non-arrest and the league's political fallout.

Worst of all? Leah went to the doctor without me for a checkup. She promised it was routine, that she wanted to get it over and done with. I knew the real reason.

She didn't trust that I would remember we had an appointment.

How the h.e.l.l was I supposed to prove my commitment to the baby? I built a nursery. I bought everything the kid would need until college. Leah even moved in. I kept her in my bed at night so I could be there when the morning sickness got bad. When she felt lousy, I was there with a bottle of water.

I was trying to change. What more did she want?

What did anyone want from me?

The ball pumped from my hands-a clean, tight spiral. The rookie receiver ran the route perfectly, but the ball bounced off his fingers.

And Coach Thompson yelled at me for it.

We lined up again. I called the count.

My guard, Orlando, moved before we snapped.

Coach Thompson blamed me.

G.o.d d.a.m.n it. Was everything in the world my fault?

Apparently.

f.u.c.k.

I pushed through, hitting my limit and then setting a new mark for my physical and emotional endurance. Training camp was grueling enough. Men dropped on the field with heat cramps. It wasn't a real practice until a handful of our bigger guys threw up on the sidelines.

According to my coach, that was my fault too. I hadn't called the trainers to deliver water while I practiced the hurry-up offense. But how was I supposed to run a quick offense if my guys were still guzzling water?

Coach Thompson didn't care.

We lined up for a play. Insects buzzed our faces, and the sun scorched our backs. My head ached with dehydration even though I downed an entire bottle of water before kicking onto the field.

I called the play. The center snapped the ball. The coach blew the whistle.

"Carson!" Now he meant to get under my skin. "Your drop back isn't clean."

Like h.e.l.l it wasn't. I called the men to the line. He b.i.t.c.hed at me again.

"Three steps, twinkle-toes. Quicker, or your a.s.s is going to eat it next time we play Ashenville."

Bulls.h.i.t. My play was clean. My snap perfect. My drop back in perfect sync. He was trying to p.i.s.s me off.

Why?

What did they stand to win if they got me mad? Mouthing off wouldn't make anyone look good, especially with the media and the fans in attendance for the afternoon practices.

I took the snap again.