Page 40 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Player

The reporters laugh.

"Thanks, Cal."

I nod, already reaching for my phone as they begin packing up their equipment.

Three unread messages.

The first one makes me grin.

Much better. I knew you had it in you. I’m proud of you.

The second makes me laugh.

See? Full sentences. You're basically a PR master now. You’ve earned your reward.

I chuckle under my breath. I open the third. It's a picture.

I frown. Night quite understanding what exactly I’m looking at.

It looks like one of those COVID tests we had to take. With two pink lines. My heart hitches. This is the surprise?

I’m about to bark at one of the assistants that I need to get back home NOW, when I take a second look.

My brain stalls.

Then, everything clicks. Beneath the photo, she’s written one short sentence.

You’re going to have another fan cheering you on next season.

For a full five seconds, the entire locker room disappears. The noise. The reporters. The cameras.

Everything.

My vision blurs as unexpected tears burn the edges of my eyes.

A laugh escapes me.

I read the message again. Just to make sure I didn't imagine it.

I didn't. Warmth fills my chests and my smile spreads so wide, I wouldn’t be surprised if my space split.

We’re having a baby. I’m going to be a dad.

“What’s that?” A voice beside me clears his throat.

I look up to find the rookie running back peering over my shoulder. His eyes go wide. “No shit.”

My head snaps toward him. “You weren't supposed to see that.”

“Holy shit!” He jumps backward like someone lit him on fire. “Hey, Guys!”

Panic slices through me. “Stop it!”

It's too late. Half the locker room—and damn near every reporter—looks over.

The rookie points at me with both hands. “Cal's gonna be a dad!”

The room erupts.