Fair Game: A Football Romance (79 page)

I tilt my face into his hand and he cups my face.

“I trust you to keep us safe.” He pulls me into his bubble of positive energy, and I don’t give a damn anymore if Mama is in the room with us or not. My mouth molds to his when our lips meet as he presses a kiss once, twice, three times before my heart begins to race and I slide my tongue against his.

“Ahem . . .” Mama clears her throat from behind us.

King pulls away, and I hold onto his shirt to keep him close, but he shakes his head again while smoothing my hair away from my face and mouths the word
later
.

What the hell is going on around here anyway? I frown, and he rubs the pad of his thumb between my eyes the way I wanted to do for him earlier.

He takes my hand and we silently walk from room to room, with King carrying the car seat and Mama in tow. The house is so incredibly beautiful and the attention to detail is remarkable. I can’t believe he did this for me, for us. How is it that he knows me so well after less than a year together? This house suits me perfectly. It’s warm and welcoming and spacious, but not obnoxiously so. It’s intimate enough for a small family like us, but large enough to entertain a few people if we wanted to. Everywhere I look, there are things of mine—books, photographs, trinkets, and knickknacks—placed here and there to make me feel at home.

My head is starting to ache. I really need to lie down.

“King, can you show me our bedroom? I don’t feel the greatest all of a sudden.”

Concern clouds his face. “What’s wrong, baby?” He sets the baby’s seat down and turns to cradle my face in his hands. Narrowing his eyes, I swear he’s trying to see what’s going on in my brain.

“Just a headache I think. Probably from all the excitement.” I smile weakly at him and catch Mama out of the corner of my eye watching us.

“Come here.” King scoops me into his arms and carries me up the beautiful winding oak staircase.

“What about Juliette? I don’t want to leave her with Mama,” I whisper into his ear.

“It’s all right, I’ll get you into bed and go back for her. Savannah is coming over later to give us some time alone. We need to talk about your mother.”

I rest my head against his chest and nibble on my bottom lip. I wonder how that conversation is going to go.

I’m excited to see Savannah. She visited in the hospital, but between all the oohs and ahhs, we didn’t really have a chance to talk. She brought her mama, and for the first time since Savannah’s daddy took off, she looked happy, healthy, maybe even a little content—quite the opposite of my own mama right now, who is frayed around the edges and losing her mind.

At the top of the stairs, there is a landing that splits off in two directions. King veers to the right, down to the end of the hall and into the master bedroom. I lift my head from his chest and squint in the bright sunlight of the room. My headache is getting worse. The sun’s rays feel like a thousand swords piercing my brain via my eyeballs.

“Can you close the curtains? My head is killing me.”

He lays me down like glass, and I sink into the feathery soft bed. The room blurs when I try to look around, so I close my eyes and listen to him lower the blinds and pull the curtains shut. When I no longer see a glow on the inside of my lids, I open my eyes and scan the darkened room. King is standing by an octagonal bay window next to a cushioned window seat. Soft, teal colored curtains block most of the sunlight. Even in the dark, I can’t seem to stop fidgeting. This headache is a bitch.

“Holland, are you sure this is just a headache? I’ve never known you to have headaches, especially one this bad.”

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed now, holding my hand.

“Go get the baby, please, I don’t know what’s going on with my mama, but I don’t feel right leaving her alone with Juliette.”

He hesitates, trying to decide which is the lesser of two evils—leaving me alone with this headache or leaving his baby with my harebrained mama.

I’m relieved when he chooses Juliette and stands to leave, but Mama is already at the door holding my baby. She’s taken her out of her car seat and carried her up the stairs, a simple task that anyone could do, but bells and whistles are going off in my head, warning me to keep her away from my baby. Mother’s intuition . . . so that’s what it feels like.

“She was starting to fuss. I thought maybe she needed to eat.”

“Thank you, Gloria, I’ll take her.” When King holds out his arms and Mama places Juliette in his hands, my anxiety level drops from high to guarded on the homeland security system scale.

“Holland isn’t feeling well. Would you mind getting her bag?”

“Yes, of course,” she says, hustling out of the room. King returns to sit on the bed next to me with Juliette.

“Do you think the pain medication they gave you for cramping would help your headache?”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath in through my nose and blow it out. My pulse is pounding in my ears and I’m feeling nauseous.

“I don’t know, but I’ll try it.”

“Do you want to feed her, or should I get a bottle?”

I want nothing more than to curl up around my little pink bundle of love, but God, my head.

“I . . . I think I . . . no, King, I’m scared, something isn’t right. I’m having trouble seeing and I feel really weird.” I close my eyes again and clutch King’s thigh. I’m going to vomit, this feels like the morning after I met King, when I was hungover and the room was spinning, but this is worse, much worse.

“Okay, hold on. Let me put the baby down.”

Put the baby down, down . . .down . . . where is that again? I don’t know this place. Where am I? Where is he putting my baby? A zing of electricity begins in my feet and travels up my legs at the speed of light, bringing a wave of fear with it that I’ve never felt.

“King, King, something’s wrong, call—”

Chapter Twenty-Six

King

She’s seizing. I’ve never seen someone have a seizure in person, but there’s no doubt in my mind that’s what’s happening.

“Gloria. Call 911 now.”

Damn it, what do I do? Juliette is crying. I startled her when I yelled, but she’s safe in her bassinette and I can’t worry about her right now.

I kneel on the bed next to Holland and roll her onto her side. Her body is jerking uncontrollably. I rack my brain, trying to think what you’re supposed to do when someone seizes.

“What’s goin . . . oh my God.” Gloria enters the room, already on the phone with 911, to find out why she’s calling them.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know. Tell them she’s having a seizure and to come to 2112 Sweetwater Lane right away. And tell them she just had a baby two days ago.”

Holland’s body twists until her face is smashed into the pillow as she convulses. I slide the pillow out from under her and press the mattress away from her mouth and nose so she can breathe, but her skin is ashy and her lips are blue. Fuck, what is going on? After what seems like an eternity, her stiff muscles begin to relax.

“Holland? Holland, baby, are you okay?” Stupid question. Of course she’s not okay. I can’t even tell if she’s breathing. Check her pulse, check her pulse . . . I press my fingers against the side of her neck and wait until I feel a weak, slow beat, thank God.               “Baby, please open your eyes. Come on, Holland, can you hear me?” I shake her gently and pat her cheek, but just when I think she might be coming around, her body stiffens again.

“No, no, no. This isn’t happening.” Gloria is moving around behind me, crying and talking to the 911 dispatcher while Juliette screams bloody murder in her bassinette. This is not how this day was supposed to go.

I keep Holland on her side and watch and wait. Five hundred years and three long seizures later, I hear the sirens of an ambulance coming down the street. My heart is overwhelmed with dread. I can’t lose her.

Gloria scrambles down the stairs to let the paramedics inside.

“Upstairs to the right, at the end of the hall. Hurry, please!” she yells.

Holland’s body is still and quiet. The seizures have stopped, or maybe she’s between them. I don’t know. Someone is kneeling beside me . . . the paramedic, thank God.

“Sir, how long has she been unresponsive? Does she have a known seizure disorder?”

“No, and I don’t know how long it’s been.” I turn my head parallel to Holland’s body and look at my watch that is on the arm holding her on her side.

“We got home thirty minutes ago. I brought her upstairs fifteen or twenty minutes after that, and we were only here for a couple of minutes before she started doing this.”

“Greg, she’s been seizing for at least ten minutes.” The paramedic next to me tells his partner.

“Not constantly, though. She’s had three episodes with a minute or two in between.”

“Okay, good, thank you . . . what’s your name?”

“King.” The man pauses, as most people do when I introduce myself. It’s a weird name.

“Okay, King, I’m going to need to examine her. Could you let me squeeze in there?”

“You have to help her, don’t let her die.”

“You’ve got it, buddy. I’ll take good care of her. Now, can you tell me a couple of things like—how old is she?”

“Twenty.”

“Is that her baby with the set of lungs back there?”

“Our baby, yes.” I watch his partner crawl across the other side of the bed and start an IV, but I can’t move. My hands ache from holding her in place.

“Oh okay, so ya’ll are new parents. That’s awesome. What’s her name?”

“Holland.”

“Does Holland have any medical conditions, asthma, blood clotting disorders, heart problems?”

“No, no. She’s healthy. She just had a baby, everything went fine until we got home today,” I say, prying my eyes from her face for a moment to let this guy know how irritated I’m getting. I realize he’s trying to keep me calm, but he’s pissing me the fuck off. I wish he would just shut the hell up and help her.

“B/P’s 187/98. She’s coming around,” Greg says to my friendly paramedic.              

“Alright, let’s get her loaded up. We need to get her to the hospital. King, do you think you could let go of her for just a minute while we get her on a gurney?”

I grit my teeth when he puts his hand on my shoulder. She’s improving, though, so I stand and move out of their way while they slide her limp body onto the gurney. She looks so small and helpless. I wish they would just let me carry her downstairs.

“What hospital do you want us to take her to?” Greg asks.

“St. Mary’s, that’s where she delivered. Her doctor is Dr. Glock.”

“Do you want to follow us with the baby, King?” Friendly asks. No, I don’t want to fucking follow them. I don’t want to leave her side, but I don’t have much choice. I can’t leave Gloria here with Juliette.

Savannah rushes into the bedroom, jerking to a halt when she sees Holland being loaded onto a stretcher.

“What’s going on?” She covers her mouth with a trembling hand as the gurney makes a loud click when they lift it from the ground. I grab Holland’s bag from the floor where Gloria dropped it earlier and follow the paramedics with Savannah on my heels.

“How much do you know about babies?” I ask her.

“Uh . . . what? Why? Hey, what’s wrong with her?” She yanks on my shirt as we walk.

“I don’t know, Savannah. She’s having seizures and they’re taking her to the hospital. I want to ride with them, but I need you to take care of the baby for me. Can you do that?”

“Um well . . . yeah.” Everyone pauses at the top of the stairs as they adjust the gurney to fit around the corner.

“What about her mama? Can’t she watch the baby? I mean, I used to babysit a lot, but Juliette’s so new . . . and tiny and stuff.”

“Gloria isn’t stable, Savannah, she’s having some sort of breakdown. I can’t leave the baby with her. You have to stay with Juliette,” I whisper so Gloria won’t hear me.

Her eyes fill with tears, and she swiftly wipes them away. She glances at the paramedics and back at me with wide, concerned eyes.

“Yes, okay. Yeah, of course, go ahead. I’ll figure it out and I’ll call my mama and have her come and help me. Is she gonna be okay? Like, you don’t think she’s gonna . . .” Her voice trails off and I place my finger against her lips.

“Stop, she’s going to be fine. She has to be.”

“King?” Holland murmurs from the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey there, Holland, can you open your eyes for us?” Greg asks as I take the stairs two at a time to catch up.

“Hey, baby, I’m right here, I’m not leaving you. How are you feeling?”

She reaches her pale hand under the rail of the gurney, and I take it in both of mine as we roll down the sidewalk to the ambulance waiting in the street. Our new neighbors are milling around their yards and on the sidewalk watching us, probably wondering what the heck kind of people have to be toted off to the hospital the day they move in.

Her eyelids droop.

“I’m so tired.”

Juliette cries inside the house.

“The baby, who’s with the baby?”              

“It’s all right, Savannah’s here and she’s calling her mother to come help her.” Her body collapses back onto the stretcher and she sighs, closing her eyes again.

Gloria appears and announces that Savannah and her mother are going to watch the baby, like it’s all her idea, and that she will follow in her car.

“That’s fine, Gloria. We’ll see you there,” I call over my shoulder, climbing into the back of the ambulance. She turns to head to her car and hesitates before turning back around.

“I really should ride with her, you know. I’m her mother, after all.”

My fists ball at my side, and I look her straight in the eyes just before the doors are closed.

“She wants
me,
Gloria . . .
me,
not you.” She gasps and the doors close. Fuck, I should have kept my big mouth shut. She’s crazier than a rat trapped in a tin shithouse. I hold Holland’s hand and use my other hand to text Savannah.

I’m serious about Gloria. Don’t trust her around the baby. I may have just stirred up a hornet’s nest, so stay out of her way. Juliette has breast milk in the tan bag on the kitchen table. She’s hungry and stressed. See if you can feed her and calm her down while you wait for your mom. Holland’s awake. I’ll text you when we find out what’s wrong. Call me for anything.

***

“Eclampsia? What’s that?” Savannah asks when I call to give her an update.

“Apparently, it’s a disease women get when they’re pregnant. It usually begins during pregnancy, but she never had any of the typical symptoms.”

“But she’s not even pregnant anymore,” she says, and I hear Juliette squeaking in the background. The sound makes my chest ache, she’s two days old, and I’ve already left her in someone else’s hands. My dad was never there for me until I could be of use to him in the business. I will not be that Dad. Holland will always come first before anyone else on earth. She will always be my top priority, with Juliette being a close second. There shouldn’t be a hierarchy for love, but for me, there is no question. It’s God, Holland, Juliette, and everything else, period.

“The doctor says that sometimes it comes on after the baby is born. There’s no real cause, but it’s more prevalent in older women and teens.”

“Ah, okay. Well how is she now?”

“Better. They’re giving her medication in her IV to keep her blood pressure down. She’s resting. The seizures took a lot out of her.”

“Um, okay, well do you know when you’re going to be coming home? I mean, we can stay and all, but I have to work tomorrow, and Juliette’s gonna need more to eat.”

“I’ll talk to the nurses, but I think it would be okay to bring the baby down here. If you can stay a couple of more hours, I’ll be back to get her.”

“Okay, sure, no problem. Take your time. Mama and I are having fun, so no hurry.”

“Thank you, Savannah. You have no idea how much you and your mother have helped.”

“Anything for you guys. So . . . is Gloria there?”

“Yes.” She’s sitting across from me on the other side of Holland’s bed. She looks like any normal, attentive mother.

“Oh, you can’t talk, huh?”

“No, not right now.”

“Okay, we’ll see you later then.”

“I won’t be long. Take good care of my girl.”

“You too,” she says.

I smile and press
end
. Thank God Holland has such a good friend.