Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 51122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
I couldn’t help the grin that spread out on my face.
My eyes scanned the crowd of football players crowded around the Longview sideline.
I could just make out Titus’s big head, and Slone’s back, but I couldn’t see them fully because they were both faced toward the flag with their hands over their hearts.
They also had a sea of trainers and officials behind them blocking the rest of my view.
I saw Titus turn to Slone and say something, causing my smile to widen, because I just knew it was something like ‘holy fuck, this guy sucks balls.’
The last words left my lips. “And the home…of the…brave!”
Goddamn, that last high note sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
There was a moment of complete and utter silence, and then the crowd started to clap. Sparsely at first until eventually it pulled into a perfectly rounded applause. There was definitely no cheering, though. Assholes.
“Ladies and gentlemen, that was…” the announcer trailed off. “Actually, I don’t know who that was.”
I chuckled hard.
Pulling the microphone back to my lips, I said, “My friends call me ‘bruh.’”
At my actual voice filling the airwaves, I watched as both Slone and Titus paused in their retreat off the field.
I laughed as I handed the microphone back to the guy who’d been shadowing me since I’d entered the stadium.
Once he had it, I backed away from him and gave myself room.
Thirty seconds later, two two-hundred-plus pound men hit me like they were trained to do it.
And fuck me, but they were.
I hadn’t been hit like that since high school.
We squished into the tightest bro hug we could squish into, and I swear to fuckin’ God, my eyes almost pricked with tears.
Almost.
Because I wouldn’t cry for anyone but my wife.
And even then, she only got it on our wedding day.
And only one small tear.
One that nobody saw.
Not even her. Because I was no pussy.
“I can’t fuckin’ believe it,” Titus crowed as he pulled back. “What in the fuck, man?”
Slone pulled back, smiling wide, and pounded me hard on the back.
“It’s been too goddamn long,” he declared. “What the fuck took you so long?”
I often wondered that myself.
Over the last six months, we’d done a lot of hurry up and waiting.
Intelligence and recon was really fuckin’ hard to do when you had a wife at home who needed you.
I felt like I was sitting there with my thumb up my ass for most of it.
“I’m home now,” I promised. “And it just so happened that it fell on a day that y’all were playing up here. How fuckin’ perfect, right?”
Both of them came back in for another hug.
But it was the soft, “Um, Banner?” that had me letting them go and turning around.
I frowned when I saw Perry’s hand clutching her belly, and her eyes wide.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She swallowed hard, and then pointed down.
That’s when I saw that her jeans were soaked.
“Oh, fuck.”
CHAPTER 3
Don’t judge my life story by the chapter you walked in on.
-Text from Banner to a new friend
PERRY
It was good to know two famous football players.
Why?
Because they were able to get me out of the stadium and into a waiting ambulance in less time than it took most losers to walk to the bathroom.
Grinning like the idiots they were, Slone and Titus waved. “We’ll see y’all after the game. Can’t wait to meet baby Banner.”
I waved them off but didn’t quite focus on them and what they were saying, because holy hell.
Contractions were no joke.
I mean, logically, I knew that they wouldn’t be. Having children was a process, and if the Braxton Hicks contractions I’d been having over the last eight weeks were anything to go by, then real contractions would blow.
And I was proved right.
A contraction steam rolled over my stomach.
“That’s two minutes apart,” Banner said, sounding levelheaded.
However, he looked a bit wild.
His hair was in disarray from where he’d ripped the hoodie off of his head.
“You need a haircut,” I puffed.
He flashed me a smile. “I’ll get one tomorrow.”
He wouldn’t.
He’d wait and wait and wait until he was forced to get one by his command, and not a second before.
That was my rebel.
“How far along are you?” the medic asked as he hooked me up to some monitors.
“Thirty-six and a half weeks,” Banner answered for me.
“Good,” the medic, whose nametag read ‘Chris,’ said. “How do you know the football players there?”
“Best friends,” I puffed. “Wow, these really suck.”
“These are coming pretty fast,” the medic looked mildly worried. “Hey, bro. You can go lights and sirens.”
The ambulance sped up, and I looked at Banner with worried eyes.
He looked back at me with the same worried eyes as he said, “Looks like we’re about to be having a baby.”
Looks like we were.
We arrived at the hospital within ten minutes, and we were moved into a room on labor and delivery in less than two.