Beauty and the Running Back (14 page)

Jessa

I sit in my old bedroom at my parents’ home, listening
raptly as my writing advisor, Julia, doles out her latest round of feedback.

“I really think creative nonfiction is where your voice
thrives,” Julia says encouragingly in my ear, “I can’t wait to read the next
draft of your manuscript.”

“I can’t wait to write it,” I smile, leaning back in my desk
chair.

My former room has been transformed into a pristine work
space all my own. Having somewhere quiet to come and work has been a godsend
over the past year. I realized during my time in Boston that Rayburn wasn’t
really the right school for me. I only enrolled because of my dad’s connection,
but their creative writing department was pretty underdeveloped. After Rowan
was born, I decided to make a change and end my time at Rayburn. I transferred
to Jackson, a low-residency program based in Maine. Through Jackson, I can
pursue my degree in creative writing from anywhere, working remotely with an
advisor as I hone my craft. I couldn’t imagine a better situation, especially
for someone with a newborn at home.

“I’ll let you go then,” Julia says over the line, “Any big
plans for the weekend?”

“Oh, you could say that,” I laugh.

Today, our friends and family will be gathering to celebrate
not one, but two momentous occasions. Of course Dean’s draft day and Rowan’s
first birthday would fall on the same weekend in late April. We’re hosting a
little party over at our apartment in honor of both events—though to be honest,
I think Dean is most excited about our little guy turning one than he is about
officially finding out what team he’ll be playing for in the fall. Rowan is the
apple of Dean’s eye—has been since the minute they laid eyes on each other. I
can barely think about their father-son bond without getting misty-eyed. But
hey, I’m a mom now. Getting misty-eyed is my right.

As I say goodbye to Julia, I hear my bedroom door creak
open. Looking up, I see my mom Marianne’s beaming face.

“We’re making progress,” she says.

I look down and see Rowan standing at my mother’s feet. She
holds his hands in hers as he wobbles there, amazed at being able to support
his own weight. The proud, somewhat baffled expression on his face sends a huge
smile sprawling across my face.

“Come on Ro,” I croon, kneeling on the carpet beside my
desk, “You can do it.”

My mother lets go of Rowan’s hands, and he’s off like a
shot. His chubby little legs carry him across the room, bumbling in that
adorable way new walkers have. He makes it almost all the way across before
stumbling a step. But luckily, I’m there to catch him up in my arms. He peers
up at me with his big blue-green eyes before rising to his feet once more,
ready for another shot at walking.

“You are unstoppable,” I laugh, ruffling his dark blonde
ringlets.

“He gets it from you,” my mom says, leaning against the
doorway.

For about the billionth time, I’m overcome with appreciation
for my mother. I have no idea how I would have made it through the first year
of being a new mom without her help. I’ll never forget the moment she arrived
in the NICU after Rowan was born. All my life, I’d watched my mom trail along
submissively in my father’s shadow. But the second she laid eyes on her
grandson, it’s like she was reborn herself. The timid woman I’d come to know
transformed into my greatest advocate and my own personal hero.

I wasn’t present when Mom laid into Dad about his reception
of me at the football game that harrowing night last year. As much as I would
have loved to see her drag him for his behavior, it’s probably best that they
got into it alone. Something tells me that hearing all the stormy details about
their marital past would have made it even harder to forgive my father for his
treatment of me that night. To be honest, I’m still working on figuring out a
way to fully forgive him.

My mom really managed to bring him around to seeing my
little family as a blessing, and of course actually meeting his grandson
helped. But I don’t know if our relationship will ever fully heal. He and Dean
have found a way to work together on the team for this final season, but it
hasn’t been easy. Maybe with time, we’ll all come to some sort of understanding
with each other. My dad may never be the father I needed growing up, but maybe
he can be the grandfather Rowan needs one day.

At least there’s one incredible father my life these days,
even if he’s not mine.

“You ready to go see Daddy?” I ask my son, lifting him onto
my hip.

Rowan’s little sneaker-clad feet kick excitedly at the mere
mention of his father.

“Me too,” I tell him, planting a kiss on the top of his
head, “Me too.”

Dean

“There they are!” my dad crows, leaping to his feet as Jessa
walks through the door with Rowan and Marianne. “Now the party can really get
going.”

“Hey birthday boy,” Tom smiles as Rowan goes tottering across
the living room into his uncle’s arms, “How’s that spiral coming along?”

“Let’s give him some time to master the art of walking
before we decide what position he’s going to play,” Jessa laughs, settling on
my lap and giving me a kiss.

“How was the call with your advisor?” I ask her.

“It was awesome,” she beams, “Jackson is such a good fit for
me.”

“I knew you’d blow them away,” I tell her, “But hell if I’m
not glad you put in a year at Rayburn before finding your dream school.”

“I guess I’m pretty glad too, you big jock,” she laughs,
playfully punching my arm.

Our little apartment has never held so many people at once.
Blaire has arrived with her new tattoo artist boyfriend, and a few of my other
Rayburn teammates have come over to join in the celebration. Even Esther and
Noel are here—you couldn’t keep those two honorary aunties away from Rowan if
you tried. Of course, Rowan’s official godparents are the two people who were
there for me and Jessa the night of his birth—namely, Buck and Blaire. I don’t
know what we would have done without their help that day, and their friendship
all the days after.

As the coverage of the draft begins, I watch Rowan make his
way around the room, one loving set of arms at a time. There’s a pile of
birthday presents stacked on our kitchen table and his first ice cream cake
waiting in the freezer, but those things aren’t what make me happiest for my
son. What really makes me happy is that Rowan is surrounded by so many people
who care about him. When he was first born, Jessa and I had no way of knowing
who was going to support us, young unwed parents that we were. But our friends
and families have rallied around us in a way I never could have imagined. And
I’ll always be grateful for that, and just a little bit pleasantly surprised to
tell you the truth.

“Here we go,” Buck says, turning up the volume on the TV as
the first round of the draft gets started.

Jessa lowers herself onto the couch beside me, braiding her
fingers through mine. Rowan scoots himself off my dad’s lap and holds his pudgy
little arms out to me. I scoop him up into my lap as the second round draft
pick begins.

“Are you gonna be my good luck charm?” I ask him.

Rowan flashes me a big, toothless smile, his sea green eyes
gleaming. I hug him a little closer as the third round gets underway. The
sudden sound of my cell phone ringing sends a hush over the entire room. Jesse’s
hand flies to my arm as I sit up stock straight, almost too stunned to move.
Tom leans forward in the arm chair, nodding his encouragement.

“Gotta take the call if you want the news,” he reminds me
with a smile.

With one arm wrapped around Rowan, I reach for my cell phone
and accept the call. The room listens with rapt attention as the man on the
other end of the line identifies himself.

“Afternoon, Coach,” I reply, my heart hammering away in my
chest.

“What’s he saying? What’s he saying?!” Buck hisses from his
place down the couch. I hold up my hand to quiet him down as the coach says the
words I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear.

“Yes sir, that sounds good to me,” I answer, “I’d be
thrilled to come play for your team.”

The second I hang up the call, our apartment erupts into
chaos. Every single person is on their feet, clapping and cheering as I accept
my offer. The TV camera crew captures the entire event, broadcasting our joy
for all the world to see. Jessa throws her arms around me and Rowan, kissing
every part of my face she can reach. A dozen of my closest friends and family
raise their glasses to my success, and to our little family’s future. It’s
looking brighter than ever, today.

“Now that that’s settled,” I say above the ruckus, “What say
we break into that ice cream cake, huh?”

Rowan claps his hands excitedly, and the room bursts into
joyous laughter. God knows, we have plenty to celebrate today. Not only am I
living out my long-held dream of getting drafted to the NFL, I’m seeing another
dream come true in my healthy, happy son. We couldn’t know for sure when he was
born at 29 weeks what the outcome would be. I wish that Jessa and I could have
seen this day during Rowan’s first couple of weeks in the NICU.

If we made it through this year, I know we can make it
through anything. I’m in this for the long haul, and it’s past time I let Jessa
know that in no uncertain terms.

Jessa

Many hours later, after cake, presents, and a few
well-deserved beers, the last of our party guests says goodnight. Finally,
after a wonderfully exhausting day, Dean and I are alone again with our
birthday boy. Our birthday boy who is totally passed out on the couch amid a
sea of wrapping paper. Dean and I share a smile as he carefully picks Rowan up
and carries him into his room to get ready for bed.

I start tidying up the living room as Dean puts Rowan down,
collecting plates and cups and all manner of party detritus. By all accounts,
our first party as a family was a success. After all, an announcement as big as
Dean’s certainly made this a more epic occasion than most first birthday
parties.

As I stand at the kitchen sink, getting ready to wash out
some beer bottles, I feel Dean’s strong arms circle my waist.

“Why don’t you leave that for the morning?” he murmurs in my
ear, pulling me gently back against his firm body. “I’ve barely gotten to talk
to you all day.”

“Well, that’s because you were mobbed with adoring
admirers,” I tease, turning around to face him, “Guess that’s something we
should get used to, huh?”

“There are only two fans in the world that will ever take
top priority with me,” he says, running his hands down my back, “Unless we add
a couple more kids to our roster, that is…”

“One thing at a time,” I laugh quietly, toying with the
buttons of his shirt, “Life is about to get pretty crazy for the three of us.”

“True,” he allows, “But as long as I prove myself in my
rookie year, I can sign an even better contract next, and then—”

“Why don’t you just bask in this moment, instead of trying
to plan out your entire career tonight?” I smile, pressing my hips to Dean’s.
“What have we learned about the best laid plans, you and me?”

“I just want to give you and Rowan the best life I can,”
Dean says, his voice low and rich in the quiet of our apartment.

“You already have,” I tell him, tracing his bottom lip with
my thumb, “Rowan and I are so lucky to have you.”

“We’re all lucky to have each other,” Dean says, catching my
hand and laying a kiss on my palm. I feel like purring as he kisses along my
wrist, my arm, the ridge of my collarbone. My tired body is lifted up by a
second wind as he trails his lips all over me. I take his scruffy jaw in my hands
and kiss him hard, letting my mouth open to his as our tongues entwine.

“Rowan’s asleep, right?” I whisper, nipping lightly at
Dean’s lip.

“He’s out like a light,” Dean smiles, running his hands over
the rise of my ass.

It took a while for me to feel like myself again in my body,
after Rowan was born. There’s not a lot of time for intimacy with your partner
while you’re tending to the needs of a newborn preemie. But in the past few
months, my libido has shot back up through the roof. Guess all that pent-up
desire had to come out eventually, and Dean is more than happy to help me meet
it.

“You know how proud I am of you, baby?” I ask him, wrapping
my arms around his broad shoulders.

“Oh, I know,” he murmurs, scooping me up into his arms. I
hook my ankles behind his back, sighing excitedly as I feel him hardening
against my sex. “But do you know how proud I am of you?”

“For what?” I ask absentmindedly, kissing along his throat
as he carries me swiftly into our bedroom.

“For what?” he laughs, tossing me with playful roughness
onto the bed, “For being a total badass, that’s what. For having the courage to
go in a whole new direction when life threw you a curve ball. Or a surprise
pass? I can’t handle metaphors when I’m this turned on.”

I giggle like the teenager I officially am no more as Dean
pins my hands up over my head. My knees fall open to him as he presses his body
to mine, letting me feel the staggering intensity of his desire for me. I grind
against his hard cock, moaning softly as my nerve endings light up like
fireworks. He tugs up the hem of my Red Birds tee shirt with his teeth, whips
open the clasp of my bra, and takes my breasts in his strong hands.

I gasp as he brushes his thumbs against my nipples. They’ve
gotten so sensitive since I’ve been breastfeeding—though I suppose that’s about
to come to an end, for now. This year has flown by so quickly, Dean and I have
barely had time to catch our breath. And something tells me life isn’t going to
slow down now. These moments of connection will only become more important the
crazier life gets. But I know we’ll always find time for each other. How could
we go without something as wonderful as
this
?

“You know, I was thinking…” Dean says, as I lift off his tee
shirt and rake my fingers over his perfect abs.

“Mhm?” I murmur, flipping open his belt buckle and tugging
down his favorite jeans.

“We haven’t really checked in about our plans for a while,”
he says, pushing my shoulders back down onto the bed and holding me firmly
against his side.

“Our plans?” I breathe, submitting to his powerful embrace
as he trails his hand between my breasts, over my stomach, across the tender
skin of my inner thighs. “What plans?”

“You know. For you and me,” he murmurs, kissing my neck as
he slips his hand under my skirt. A low groan escapes his lips as he feels how
wet I am for him.

“I can’t think of any plans when your fingers are that close
to my clit,” I gasp, my back arching as he pushes aside the cotton panel of my
panties and strokes along my slick sex.

“Just listen then,” he growls, running his finger all down
the length of me as he holds my writhing body still. “I love you like crazy,
Jessa. This past year has been insane, but it’s proved to me that we can do
anything together.”

“That’s right baby,” I moan, my back arching as Dean traces
sweet, firm circles around my clit.

“And no matter how crazy things get, I’m always gonna put
you and Rowan first,” he goes on.

I can barely hear him as the blood rushes from my head
straight to my pulsating sex. Warm pressure builds up just behind my belly
button as my toes curl madly against the sheets. I grab hold of Dean’s
shoulders for dear life as he sends me hurtling toward orgasm with nothing but
his two masterful fingers.

“I want to ask you something Jessa,” Dean murmurs in my ear.

“Right now?!” I gasp, looking up at him with wild eyes.

“Good point,” he smiles rakishly. And with that, he swings
his body around and brings his mouth to my slick, throbbing slit. “First things
first…”

I swallow a huge howl as Dean flutters his tongue against my
clit, sliding his fingers deep inside of me until he reaches that sweet spot
only he knows how to find. A surge of sensation erupts deep inside of me,
spilling out through my entire body and leveling me in its wake. I come as Dean
licks me up, savoring every drop. My chest rises and falls like mad as he
lowers himself on top of me, brushing the hair out of my eyes.

“Jessa,” he says, his voice rippling with excitement, “I
want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want us to be a family forever.
Before I start this season, I want to make it official.”

As the haze of my orgasm starts to lift, his meaning hits me
square between the eyes. I sit bolt upright among our tangled bedsheets,
staring at Dean in the near darkness of our bedroom.

“Are you asking me…?” I breathe.

“Jessa Cahill,” Dean says, taking my trembling hands in his
as he kneels before me, “Will you marry me?”

Proving that Dean’s not the only person in this family who
can execute a tackle, I leap into his arms and knock him flat on his back with
the ferocity of my kiss.

“Is that a yes?” he grins as I run my hands through his
sandy blonde hair.

“That’s a hundred yeses,” I whisper, holding his gorgeous
face in my hands, “I can’t wait to be your wife.”

I sit back on Dean’s lap, his enormous cock brushing against
my warm wetness. An ecstatic smile spreads across my lips as I raise my hips,
letting the tip of his member trail along my slick slit. His eyes screw up as
he lets out a low, delighted groan. Looking down at this glorious man, I can
scarcely believe my luck. Not only have I found a partner who’s kind, and
brave, and driven, and focused… I’ve also found a man whose cut, sculpted body
I can’t get enough of. Though god knows I’ll spend the rest of my life putting
that theory to the test.

Our voices rise to the ceiling of our bedroom as I lower
myself down onto Dean’s thick cock, inch by delicious inch. His hands dig into
my ass as I take him all the way inside of me, savoring the feel of him as he
fills me up. We fall into a seamless rhythm as our hips buck wildly, each of us
egging the other on toward the height of bliss.

Dean sits up on the bed, holding me in his lap as I bounce
wildly on his delectable cock. His mouth finds my nipple as he drives his
manhood ever deeper into my eager body. The elation of our decision to wed, the
excitement that unfolded today, and the pure bliss that is Dean’s body against
mine combine into a potent cocktail of delight. I can feel him reaching his
tipping point as he buries his fingers in my hair, tugging my head back and
exposing my neck to him. He kisses deeply along my throat as I take him even
deeper—and all at once we’re tumbling over the edge together, falling head over
heels into a bottomless free fall of pleasure. We hold each other close as we
come hard together, our bodies melting into one completed circuit of sensation.

As we collapse into each other’s arms, my mind scrolls back
through all old the twists of fate that have brought the two of us to this
moment. I smile to myself as sleep rushes in, remembering the first time I ever
laid eyes on the handsome, self-assured running back who would change the
course of my life forever. If Buck had actually managed to throw a decent
spiral that August day, who knows where Dean and I would be right now? I think
I can say one thing for certain: never has so much happiness come from one
badly thrown football.

I curl against Dean’s side and let slumber wash over me, the
rise and fall of his chest rocking me to sleep after what will always be one of
the best days of our young family’s life.

THE END

* * *

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