The Game by Vi Keeland by Vi Keeland

I leaned over to Christian and whispered, “I remember the days when the girls used to point to you and say that.”

“It’s a baton I will happily pass.”

Wyatt joined Coach on the sideline. After years of physical therapy, my grandfather now walked pretty well with a cane. But he was currently using it to point to a ref and yell about the last call. The two of them talked for a minute before Wyatt went over to the players’ bench and sat down next to Drew, who was currently sulking.

“I think you need to get one of them interested in a position besides quarterback,” I told my husband. “I can’t handle going home with one miserable child after every game.”

Christian smiled. “The competition’s good for them. Besides, Drew got the spot for the entire game last weekend. They’ll figure it out on their own eventually, like Jake and I did.”

My cell rang from my purse. Reading the name on the screen, I tilted the phone to show Christian.

He shook his head. “You’re supposed to be on maternity leave.”

“They’re having a problem with the forecasting module. It keeps glitching and shutting down since they loaded it onto the new computer system. I think the problem is the new system, not the program.” I tried to answer, but the phone disappeared from my hand before I could finish.

“Doc says no more work, or you’re going to wind up in the hospital for the rest of this pregnancy. You know how miserable you were last time on bedrest for a month. You can’t have stress.”

“It’s just a phone call. I’m not stressed…”

“It’s never just a phone call, sweetheart. When you can’t figure out what the issue is, you’ll wind up working until four in the morning trying to fix things from your laptop.”

Okay, so maybe I did do that the other night, but it wasn’t easy to leave my coworkers hanging. Especially since I’d created the statistics and forecasting software they now used. After Christian and I had moved to New England to be with his new team, I was bored staying home all the time. I wanted to find a job with flexible hours so I could travel for his games and also go back to New York to see some of Wyatt’s and visit my grandfather. That job fell into my lap when the director of team stats from the Bruins happened to take a job with New England. He’d always loved the forecasting module I’d been working on and invited me to consult with Christian’s new team on how to improve their system. A year in, I was working full time and building a brand-new program from the ground up. I’d stayed on part time after the twins were born, but it wasn’t easy because Christian was always on the road. Having another set of twins was going to make things more chaotic, but at least my husband was retired now and could help out more.

I frowned as the call went to voicemail and the phone remained in my husband’s hand. “You know I’m going to call him back.”

“I know you are. But how about when we get home? I’ll do homework with frick and frack, and you can go upstairs and get your geek on. At least if you do one thing at a time, you’ll be a little less stressed. The game’s almost over anyway.”

A little while later, Christian and I walked down to the field. He carried the cooler he brought to every game. As we approached, the kids were down on one knee, listening to Coach’s post-game talk. But when they spotted my husband, every single player got up and ran toward him. Though these days, the kids were running to Christian Knox for a different reason.

“Do you have chocolate?” one of them asked.

Christian mussed his hair. “Did you complain because I only had vanilla last time?”

The kid smiled from ear to ear and nodded.

“Then I got chocolate this time too.” He opened the cooler and had to step out of the way so he wouldn’t be knocked over during the frenzied Chipwich grab. As soon as the kids got their ice cream, they ripped their cleats and socks off and ran around the field. I still found it amazing that Christian hadn’t even prompted them to do that. He’d just brought the Chipwiches, and they did the rest—knocking each other over and laughing with their toes in the grass and ice cream in hand.

Christian hooked an arm around my waist, and we stood together quietly, watching the chaos on the field, both of us smiling.

“I just realized you have no grass at home right now,” I said.

We’d recently dug up our backyard to put in an in-ground pool and some new landscaping. We planned on installing sod in the spring, but right now it was mostly mud. “Should I get some seed and make a little patch like you used to have on your balcony in your fancy New York apartment? I wouldn’t want to rob you of your happy place to eat ice cream for six months.”

Christian turned and pulled me close. Smiling down, he lifted a hand to my glasses and raised one side. I guessed they were crooked again. “I don’t need my toes in the grass anymore,” he said. “I’ve got my happy place right here, boss lady.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet.”

He moved his mouth to my ear. “Plus, fuck the Chipwich and your work. I’m going to eat you when we get home.”

I laughed. That was Christian, the perfect combination of sweet and dirty. Sometimes I couldn’t believe this was my life, that it was all real and I’d found true love. But I had. It had just taken me a while, because I’d found it where I least expected it—on the other side of fear.