One Perfect Night: A Sports Romance (6 page)

Very few people knew Logan was Greg’s father. Julie’s parents knew, of course, as did Logan’s, and his sister and niece. But nobody else, not even Belle, knew who the father was. If Belle chose to get out of her own little self-centered bubble for a moment, she might be able to do the math and figure out a timeline, but as it was, in the “All Belle, All the Time” show that was her life, she didn’t care beyond saying she thought Greg was cute.

Logan had insisted on taking care of many of Greg’s individual needs, despite what Julie had wanted. He’d wanted to do a lot more, but Julie wouldn’t let him. It was too important for her to provide for her son, first and foremost. She’d taken the crib and clothes, the afghan his mother had made, the needlepoint birth announcement hanging just over his bureau.

But she refused his cash handouts. He phrased them as child support, but she refused to consider that, thinking it as charity whether than actual funds for the raising of their son. He was the most stubborn man she’d ever met, but then again, he’d met his match in her. And with Logan in Des Moines most of the time, one woman or another on his arm, she couldn’t run the risk that he would be involved in their son’s life only when he had the time. Or when he was between girlfriends. She’d seen too many people go through that to want a life like that for her son.

She didn’t restrict Logan’s access to Greg, but she was very wary and very watchful. She had to keep her son’s needs first and foremost in her mind.

There was no way for Logan to be the father Julie—and Greg—needed him to be. He was in a different world, he was away too much. He was…

She rocked Greg, half her attention on the pre-show for the football game, half her attention on her son. He was beautiful, with his chubby cheeks, his curly brown hair and his big green eyes, just like his father’s.

Her heart ached—their connection still resonated in her head as one of the most beautiful moments in her life. He’d insisted on paying child support and she’d insisted on him putting it into a college fund. He called every week, asking her to consider a future with him. But there was no way she could let him in. He was with one woman or another; the only reason he wanted to be with her was because of Greg, and she couldn’t do that. She had far too much pride to be the wife on the side.

His voice filtered in, a pre-taped interview running before the game, and Greg settled in her arms. Julie stared at the TV, tears welling in her eyes. He hadn’t needed that shoulder surgery after all, and he was starting quarterback for the Harriers. He was doing great for the team; they were having a winning season.

As soon as the interview was done, Greg got fussy and Julie finally put him in his playpen, her attention on a piece they were doing on Logan. A bunch of photos came onto the screen, one of him in high school, a couple of him in college, then his time with the Condors, and several with various women.

Those hurt. Julie knew she had no hold on him, but it still rankled to see him living a carefree life a thousand miles or more away.

Her life was Greg, providing for Greg, and working, in that order. There was no time for anything else, and certainly no emotional energy. She hadn’t eaten more than frozen dinners after work, and her social life, which had never been exactly hopping, had ground to a stop.

Mom watched Greg during the day, and Julie raced home at night, sometimes stopping at a grocery store, and relieved Mom of her duties. If she hadn’t had Mom and Dad, she wouldn’t have been able to manage. Child care was so expensive, and Julie didn’t make a great living at her job.

She closed her eyes and rubbed the back of her neck. Being a single parent was rough, some days harder than others. She had so much to do, to fix the wreck of her apartment, go through the bills, and try to figure out a budget. She shouldn’t be watching a game.

And yet Julie couldn’t help it, seeing Logan, even on TV, was a soothing balm to her soul.
 

Julie went through the mail, sorting it into a bills pile, and a junk mail pile. The bills were starting to pile up; she wasn’t making her basic expenses, and that was just depressing.

She got a small glass of wine when the game started. It’d help to take the edge off and she desperately needed that.

Logan was playing wonderfully, his throws meeting their targets and soon they were ahead 21-0; the expansion team New Jersey Bobcats getting hammered. Julie couldn’t help a smile as Logan nailed a thirty-yard pass—Touchdown!

She watched him call the next play, confident, his voice rising over the chatter from the fans, and the offensive line set up for the play. The handoff was smooth, and Julie watched Logan scramble back, and then…

“No!”

Julie watched as Logan was slammed to the ground, head and shoulder first. A quarterback sack wasn’t exactly a rarity, but this one looked especially bad. And she wasn’t surprised to see Logan lying on the ground, either stunned or injured.

“Logan…” Even though he couldn’t hear her, she felt better saying his name. She bit her knuckles, waiting, waiting...Endless moments and then the network went to commercial, leaving Julie with her heart in her throat.

Logan had messed up his bad shoulder, she just knew it.

***

Logan looked at the best orthopedist in Des Moines grimly. He knew the score; knew this was a career-ending injury at this point in the game The X-rays showed the damage, the torn tendon and the damaged cartilage.

This was the conclusion, three days of testing, everyone from the team doctor and trainers, coaches, even the businessmen behind the team weighing in. They would keep him on the team for now, but he was out for the rest of the season, at minimum. They weren't even trying to pretend they weren’t disappointed and upset. So was Logan.

They’d asked him why he’d fallen as he did, as if he’d had any choice in the matter. They asked why he hadn’t dodged to one side or another, even though the film clearly showed that he’d been blindsided.

He was fed up. He wanted to go home.

“Surgery is the only option?” Logan asked. He’d been quiet, letting the team doc, the ortho, the trainers all discuss his injury as if he wasn’t even there. His ortho in California had cleared his schedule to call in for the conference. Even his agent, appearing via teleconference, had more to say than he did. Logan was nothing more than a commodity, a resource to be used and reused until he became too old or too injured for him to continue.

“That’s right,” the doctor said, motioning to the medical images. He didn’t need to explain more.

He was done. He wanted to go home, to see Greg, to see Julie, his parents Myra, FishyFace. Everyone.

“Okay, then. I’ll seek treatment in LA. I’m out for the season, right?”

“At least,” the ortho said. Logan could read the truth in his eyes. The was done for, washed up. That was fine. The Condors had offered him a few different positions, offering him everything from scouting positions to front office, from an adjunct coach, working specifically with the quarterbacks, to being the face of the organization. Despite being in Des Moines, he was still thought of as a Condor, and the press kept pushing that.

“Doctor Randall, can you fit me in as soon as possible? Text me when you know how your schedule is. And Hal,” he said, addressing his agent, “Let’s talk tomorrow.” He stood, extending his hand to each of the people in the office. It was a goodbye, even if nobody actually voiced it. He wouldn’t be playing in Des Moines. Hell, he wouldn’t be playing anywhere; he’d be lucky if he could throw a ball around with Greg in a couple of years.

Greg. His son. He and Julie were what mattered most. He was ready to retire and settle down with them. If only she’d take him. But there were so many questions. Was she seeing anyone? Did she even want him? They’d had such a brief time together romantically, and all too soon it had changed into discussion about Greg and his needs and progress.

He simply couldn’t miss out on a more time with Greg—and Julie. Maybe the injury was a gift. A chance to finally be with
his
family.

***

Logan’s day was filled with wrapping up details. The moving company would pack up his things; he’d bring a small suitcase home with him. His agent would work with the team and work out a contract settlement. He’d wrapped up every detail he could and bid Des Moines a quiet goodbye.

His flights were on time and Logan spent the time before, during, and between the flights with his earbuds jammed into his ears, trying his best to be invisible. A couple of young kids approached and asked for autographs and he complied, telling them to get good grades in school. He felt suddenly paternal, and the rush of emotions that brought forth had him playing his music louder, trying to drown out the little voice in his head reminding him he’d missed out on so much with Greg, not to mention Julie.

Logan picked up a rental from the airport and drove to Julie’s apartment, looking at the cracked sidewalk and the streets critically. How had he allowed chasing a football dream, a dream he had already acquired, to blind him to what he needed most—
family
.

Could Julie forgive him?

He got out of the car, his heart racing, and headed for Julie’s apartment.

“I know, Mrs. Morrison, but he has colic. I’m sorry he’s disturbing you. Calling the police isn’t going to make him stop crying. He’s a baby.”
 

Logan could hear the tears and frustration in Julie’s voice. He’d made a point to not connect with any of her neighbors, opting a head down approach until she’d answered the door, but he’d heard about Mrs. Morrison and how bossy she was.

“Julie? Everything okay?”

Her eyes widened and she almost dropped Greg, who was wailing.

“Give him here,” Logan said, taking the baby from her and rubbing his back. Greg burped and sighed, falling blessedly silent.

Julie, on the other hand had something to say. Logan could tell by the way she drew her shoulders back, standing taller.

“Mrs. Morrison, there are certain things out of my control. Greg crying is one of those things. I need for you to go back to your apartment. If you feel the need to call the police again, you go right ahead and do just that. They’re not going to arrest my baby for a noise complaint and they’re not going to bully him into silence. You’ve tried that, see how well that worked for you.”

She turned her attention to Logan and her posture softened. He could see the exhaustion written all over her face. It was time he stepped up to the plate.

“Ma’am, I’d like to spend some time with my family. Please leave.”

“F-family?” Mrs. Morrison said, clearly perplexed.

“Yes.” Logan eased past her and into the living room, the playpen taking up most of the space. “Julie, c’mon.”

The sound of the front door locking made his heart clench. They were alone now, and it wasn’t a simple conversation Logan desired. He wanted a heart to heart with her.

And more.

“Hi,” she said, holding out her hands for Greg. He wasn’t ready to give his son over yet. Julie gave him a fond smile and sat on the couch while he settled in the overstuffed chair a profound choice of mirroring their positions when she told him she was pregnant.

“Hi,” he replied. “Have you had dinner?”

“Microwave meals,” she said, an edge to her voice. “Microwave meals have become my diet.”

“Oh.” Logan looked down at Greg, cuddling him close and stroking his hair. “I’ll never understand why—”

“No you wouldn’t,” Julie said furiously. “You’ve been in Iowa, for God’s sake, getting injured, making us worry, doing…” She lost steam there and trailed off, wiping her eyes over cheeks he just now realized were tear stained.

“Julie, I’m back and I want this to work. I want us to work. We had something that first night; I know you felt it. I know what we had was unlike anything I’ve ever felt.”

“And so you went to Des Moines to try to figure it out with every eligible woman there.” She sighed and put a hand up. “Sorry, uncalled for. You have your life and I have mine. We share a child. I don’t get the right to harp on you about everyone you date.”

Date?
Where had that come from?

“I don’t….I haven’t….Date?”

She rolled her eyes. “You had a bunch of women dangling off your arm.”

What the hell?
Logan had no idea what she was talking about. He tried to bank the anger and frustration, but Greg must have sensed it and started crying.

“Rub his back,” she said shortly. Logan did, trying to work out what she meant by dating, though her comments ignited a flare of hope inside him. Was she jealous? Could she be interested in trying this crazy thing out?

Logan held his son, trying to work out what to say. He had the feeling that this would be monumental, that these moments could be life changing.

“I haven’t dated or slept with anyone since you, Julie. I...couldn’t.”

Her eyes widened at that and her vulnerability shined right through.
 

“Why?” she asked in a whisper.

“Because I can’t get you out of my head. Julie, I want to share my life with you. Please…”

Oh god, was he begging? “Please give me a chance, Julie.”
 

She didn’t answer him, didn’t say a word, even though her eyes glistened with tears that he wanted to kiss away, though he didn’t dare. He’d laid himself bare and now it was up to her. The ball was in her court.

“Are you here to stay?” she asked in a small voice.

He nodded. “I’m done. The shoulder has taken too much damage. All we have to do now is work out the details.”

“What happens next?”

“I don’t know,” he told her. “I’d like…” He stopped. Swallowed. Gulped back the rush of emotion. “I’d like to explore a relationship with the woman I’ve fallen for.”

Again, she fell silent, just watching him, though he suspected her tears were almost ready to fall. She reached for her phone and though he wanted to ask what she was doing, he held off.

“Mom...It’s me. Can you and Dad take Greg for a while. Why? Um...Logan is here and we need to talk.”

She paused and he saw one lone tear trickle down her cheek. “He says he’s staying.” Her voice broke on that last word. “He said… He wants to try.” There was a long pause and she nodded, as if her mother could see her. “Thank you, Mom. I’ll have him ready.”