Hey, everyone! Sorry for the delay between updates. Work has been crazy, I've been plugging along with Someone Else's Baby, aaaand this chapter is kind of a big one, so I wanted to get it right.
I hope it's worth the wait *fingers crossed*
Caught In A Riptide
Chapter Twenty-seven
Arlo
Fuck, shit, fuck.
Coach shoots me a 'what the fuck?' look as I jog past him, panting like hell and cringing as my ankle throbs with every step. After a shocking challenge by one of the Seminole forwards less than ten minutes in, I'm lucky Coach has even let me stay in.
Hell, I'm lucky Mom let me stay in. She was ready to throw down right there on the sidelines.
As much as I'd love to say we're kicking their asses, we're not even at the halfway mark and the Seminoles are in top form. We're two goals down with a big fat zero beside our cartoon Dolphin. Assholes.
Flicking a quick glance at the game clock, I suck in a big breath and force myself to run faster, push harder.
I get my first real opportunity to turn this thing around a few minutes later. While Coach screams at me to 'Get the hell up there!' I throw everything I've got at the ball. I get to experience my first taste of Brody's life when it hits the net with a thwack, the crowd roaring as my teammates scoop me off my feet.
Sweaty and smiling so hard my cheeks hurt, I barely get a chance to hunt for my family in the crowd, to hunt for Lakely, but when I spot her and make a heart out of my hands, her blush visible from what feels like half a mile away, the pride coursing through my veins is unlike anything else.
Thank fuck, that '1' on the board reinvigorates the whole team.
Just seconds before the whistle blows to cut the game in half, Liam sinks a gorgeous header before triple-backflipping his way past the scowling Seminole goalie.
"Fuckin' ace, man!" I crow, grabbing his head to scrub his hair with my knuckles as we make our way back to the locker rooms.
"That was awesome," he breathes, and I know he's not the only one flying thanks to the insane atmosphere out there. The whole team is chattering away like excited little kids, all of us experiencing the same rush, the same high.
The same taste of a future I'm still not sure I'll have.
"I swear, biggest rush of my life, playin' on an MLS pitch. Weller is the man for hookin' this up."
"You're welcome, son."
Liam whips around and almost dies when he spots Brody jogging down the tunnel toward us. We stop, lingering outside the locker room doors so he can squeeze our shoulders.
"That was a stunning header, Marks. Perfect execution. Their goalie didn't even see it comin'."
"Th-thanks, man."
Snorting, I shove Liam gently and roll my eyes, but when Brody turns his proud, warm eyes on me, flashing a big grin, I'm man enough to admit that I might be fangirling just a smidge, too. Family friend or not, he's still my soccer hero. He's still the guy I watch on TV and who broke a million followers before the end of his first season with the Gators.
Brody Weller is a legend. I just happen to call him 'Uncle' sometimes.
"And that goal in the thirtieth minute? Nice, Cullen." He looks around quickly before leaning in closer. "You can expect a handshake from Hills after the game, I reckon."
Swallowing hard, I rake a hand through my sweaty hair, rubbing the back of my neck as my eyes dart over to a huge team photo hanging on the wall. It was from the Gators' opening game here at their new stadium; Uncle Sullivan brought me for my birthday last year. Right in the center, with the players all gathered around him, is the Gators coach.
"Aaron Hills?" Liam hisses, slapping me on the back hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. "Shit, dude, that's awesome! That means you're a shoe-in once you graduate Stanford!"
Except I don't know if I'm going to Stanford, I think, forcing a smile onto my face. It's common knowledge that Aaron Hills is a great coach, but he's also kind of a snob. He won't sign just anybody, especially if they don't come out of a great college with an even higher ranked soccer program.
"Cullen, Marks, get in here!" Coach yells from the other side of the door, so Brody wishes us good luck for the second half and heads back outside to 'schmooze' while we listen to Coach's half-time pep talk and promise to do better.
While we chug water and catch our breath, I swipe my cell from my bag and decide I've got just long enough to get a quick pep talk from my girl.
"Arlo? Are you okay?" It's hard to hear her over the cacophony of crowd noise, but I can hear her smile, hear the pride in her voice.
I grin, sitting on the bench. "Better now. How's the view?"
Lakely giggles. "Great. Brody hooked us up with awesome seats."
"Good."
"You're amazing out there," she breathes, her tone going straight to parts of me that need to stay chill. "It's so cool watching you, knowing we'll probably be here all the time in a few years. I bet the twins will have green Gators shirts before they have dresses, right?"
"Well, duh."
"Well, duh," she parrots teasingly, starting to say something else before cutting off with a curse. I hear Mom say something, and then Dad's voice comes through too faintly for me to hear what he's saying.
"Lakers? Did I lose you?"
"No, no, I...um, sorry, Arlo, I need to go."
The phone goes dead just as Coach slaps a hand down on my shoulder, face set with determination. "It's time, son."
"Yeah, okay," I mumble, tucking my cell back in my bag with a frown.
As soon as we get back out onto the pitch, I'm looking up at my family, eyes scanning the rows for Lakely. She and Mom are missing, but when I lift my hands at Dad in question, he exaggeratedly mouths 'bathroom,' and I can relax.
"Get your head in the game, son," Coach warns, striding past me to take his position on the sidelines.
Get your head in the game, get your head in the game, I repeat, jogging to my starting spot.
Just before the whistle blows, I see Mom and Lakely making their way back out to join everybody else. The last bundles of nerves dissipate just in time for me to focus before the second half begins.
~ oOo ~
After two fouls, a red card—for one of the Seminoles players—and then a penalty they shouldn't have been given but that Watson easily saves, I'm exhausted and my nerves are shot. When the final whistle blows after almost ten minutes of extra time, we're still tied at two all.
Which means one thing.
"Cullen, you're up," Coach barks, his frustration all over his face as he tosses a water bottle at me with one hand, pointing toward the penalty spot the ref is spraying on the grass with the other. He's chosen the goal nearest my family, their faces a mixture of excited and nervous as they holler support from their seats.
Nodding, I swallow my nerves and collect back-slaps from my teammates as I try to catch my breath. I see the Seminole captain doing the same thing and almost grin around my bottle. He's a good player on the field, but I've gone up against him in penalty shootouts before. He's pretty lousy when it's just him, the ball, a goalie, and the net.
Me, on the other hand—I love the silence, the expectant hush, and then the roar of the crowd cheering my name. There's nothing like it.
Goosebumps rise on my arms and the back of my neck as I glance over at the cup gleaming gold in the sunlight. Thirty more minutes, and I'll be lifting it in the air while the cannons pump Dolphin blue confetti into the sky.
My heart thumps evenly in my chest as we head over to the penalty box, everyone but me and George, the Seminole Captain, hanging back. Coach stands with my Dolphin teammates, one hand on Liam's shoulder when one of the Seminoles gets mouthy and my friend takes a step toward him.
I grin, then turn away so I can focus. The Seminoles are up first, so the ref tosses George the ball and tells him "Good luck."
He'll need it.
Watson takes the goal, and I'm stoked for him when he easily saves George's first shot. He's worked fuckin' hard this season. He gets pummelled with back-slaps when he jogs over to rejoin the team, but I can't concentrate on their celebration. I have five penalties to take.
As the Seminole goalie—Jennings—takes Watson's place and shifts on his left leg, I smirk and kiss the tip of my pointer finger before raising it in the air with my thumb to make an 'L.' I hear a wolf-whistle from the stands as I start a slow run toward the ball, my foot making contact to sending it in a neat arc toward the top-left corner, but it's the sound of the ball hitting the back of the net with a swish that stretches my grin wider.
That's one.
Jennings grunts as he thumps the grass with his glove, scowling my way as he lifts himself up on the right side of the goal.
Nice try, I mouth, pleased when his face gets red and his scowl tightens.
Shots two and three sail over Jennings' head and between his legs.
Unfortunately, so do George's next two shots.
As I make my way back to the penalty spot, I glance up at the screen.
We've each got three goals.
"Come on," I mutter under my breath, twisting my head side to side as I try to get a read on Jennings. He's fuming that we've got the advantage after Watson's early save, and he knows his little ruse isn't fooling me, which makes him unpredictable. If I want to keep the pressure on, I need to hit the back of the net. If I miss, it gives them a shot at a draw.
Tipping my face back to the sky, I let the winter sun soak into my skin, soft white clouds drifting over me.
One, two, three.
On the count of three, I look back at the goal and let my feet guide me.
Top-right, I decide impulsively, eyes on the ball as I get closer.
It's so quiet that a pin could drop and I'd hear it, pressure mounting with every step, but nothing is breaking through my perfect focus.
"Oh, fuck!"
Except that.
Lakely?
My head whips around, eyes heading straight for where I know she's sitting, just as my boot makes contact with the ball. I know, as soon as I kick it, that I've fucked it. The clang of it hitting the crossbar confirms my thought a few seconds later, but I'm not looking at Jennings to see the no-doubt smug-as-shit look on his face because Lakely is doubled over in Mom's arms while Caben screeches about something being gross.
I'm too far away to see exactly what's going on, but I definitely hear Jaxson hollering, "Uh, little bro, it's time to wrap this up!"
What, why?
And then it dawns on me.
Lakely looks up, her wide, panicked eyes catching mine from thirty feet away, and my stomach drops out of my ass.
Holy shit.
"What's going on?" Coach snaps, hand landing heavily on my shoulder as one of the ushers rushes over to see if he can help.
Swallowing hard, I palm my flip-flopping stomach and pray Coach doesn't move his hand because I'm pretty sure a gentle gust of wind could blow me over right now. "I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I think my girlfriend just went into labor."
"Get over here, Arlo!" Mom yells, her voice tinged with stress, as people start clapping and whistling, helping Mom get Lakely out of their row so they can make their way toward the stairs.
"Oh, no, you don't," Coach barks, and now he's the one sounding panicked. Turning me by my shoulders, he fixes stern eyes on me. "You get over there and tell her to cross her legs. You've got one more chance to win us this Championship, Cullen. Don't you dare blow this now."
"I, uh, need a second."
The ref looks confused as fuck, but when the Seminole coach just shrugs and agrees to a two-minute timeout, I jog over to the barriers on wobbly legs. Lakely and Mom have made it to the bottom of the stairs by then, Finley's sweater tied around Lakely's hips and a light sheen of sweat covering her crimson face.
She's mortified. I'm terrified.
What a pair we make.
"My waters broke," she whispers, more than just a tinge of panic to her voice as I stretch over the barrier to cup her cheek. "It's too early."
"Lots of babies are born a month early," Mom soothes, shooting me a look I recognize well. It's her 'hurry the fuck up' face. "Arlo, hustle."
"No, he can't," Lakely says quickly, mustering a weak smile for Mom when her expressions shifts from 'hurry' to 'what the fuck is wrong with you?' Turning back to me, she points at the goal. "Go win this thing so we can go have babies. And do it fast."
My nervous system is shot, but I manage to grin faintly and plant a kiss over her smile, my heart thundering like crazy. "Yes, Ma'am. One Championship, coming up." Stroking her bump, I bite my lip. "Hang tight, babies. Daddy's gotta do somethin' real quick."
As I jog away, I hear Mom sniffle something about me being a brat but also a sweetheart.
Coach raises his eyebrows at me as I rejoin my teammates.
"Let's do this," I breathe shakily, bouncing on the spot as he shouts at the ref to get this moving.
As we wait for George to take his next shot, I've never been so unfocused, my heart thumping in my ears, my skin crawling with nerves and anticipation for what's to come, but when a sympathetic hiss spreads through the crowd, I'm too busy watching Mom coach Lakely through what I'm guessing is a contraction to put two and two together right away.
"He saved it! Hell, yeah!" Liam crows, leaping onto my back to hang off my shoulders as Watson stares at the ball in his hands, his face slack with shock, like he doesn't know what just happened.
I'll congratulate him on what I'm sure was an epic save later, but I'm kinda on a clock right now.
My entire body is a livewire as Watson tosses me the ball. I catch it, just, and notice how shaky my hands are as I put it down on the marker.
It's now or never.
Shooting one last glance at Lakely, I find myself in awe of her when she flashes me an encouraging smile and a thumbs up even though I'm guessing she's in all kinds of pain.
"Come on, bro!" Asher yells, prompting the rest of my family to join in, and it's to the sounds of their encouragement that I haul in a big breath, start running, and fix my eyes on the back of the net right above Jennings' head. I don't pause, turning around to jog back to Lakely.
For the first time ever, my focus isn't on whether I made it or not.
I'm not even facing the goal when the entire blue section lifts to their feet with a roar.
In fact, later, when Brody presents the trophy as the sun starts to set, it's Watson who gets the honor of lifting it into the air as cannons pump bright blue and shiny silver confetti into the sky.
I'm way too busy watching the bravest girl in the world give birth to our daughters.
~ oOo ~
"You're doin' so good, Lakers," I breathe, wiping her sweaty forehead with a damp cloth as a nurse pokes around under the sheet. I'm trying very hard not to think about what she's doing when Lakely's face scrunches up.
She whines, turning her face into my shoulder. "This hurts."
"I can tell, you're crushin' my hand," I murmur, immediately realizing it was the wrong thing to say when Mom and the nurse turn hot glares on me. "What?"
"Trust me, Lakely is in much more pain than you are," Mom tells me, one brow arched.
I don't get a chance to defend myself before Lakely's already-bruising grip tightens. I can see the way her whole body tenses, and then the nurse's glare softens into something like a wry smile.
"Ten centimeters, Lakely. It's time."
It's time?
Holy fuck, it's time.
People start rushing around then and I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing.
"I'm scared, Arlo," Lakely whimpers just when I start to wonder if I should maybe get out of the way and let Mom do the coaching. "I can't do this."
Tuning out the craziness around us for a second, I pry my hand out of hers so I can hold her face. Stroking my thumbs over the rosy apples of her cheeks, I stare into eyes I know as well as my own and take the moment to just see her.
She's the girl I used to chase around when we were four. We made sandcastles together, had sleepovers and drove our respective parents mad refusing to sleep, and spent hours just...goofing around. She's been my best friend forever.
When we moved to Utah to be near Gamma and Pops, we'd video call all the time. When we moved back just before Mom went onto bed rest in Tampa, Lakely was my rock. When my biological father finally did the right thing and terminated his rights to me, Jaxson, and Finley, Lakely was the first person I told.
When Richard died after a short battle with cancer, Lakely sat with me up at The Bluffs for hours, letting me cry on her shoulder and listening to me raging about how unfair it was that my brothers and I would never get real answers from him.
Mustering a smile, I stare at the golden flecks in Lakely's eyes and remember the way they sparkled when we started high school together, when she had her first beer, when we won Best Dressed Duo at our sophomore Halloween dance, when we snuck ice cream out onto the roof outside my window for the first time, and a thousand other times, too.
Man, I hope our girls get her beautiful eyes.
"Lakers, I haven't always done the best thing when it comes to you," I start carefully, choosing my words. "But I swear, I'm not gonna let you down again. I'm right here with you and you're the bravest girl in the world. You've put up with me for all these years already. I know you can do this."
Mom laughs softly behind me, her hand squeezing my shoulder as Lakely's expression shifts into a pinched smile.
My heart thumps harder, skipping not just one but a bunch of beats as I blow out a shaky breath and lean in to touch our noses together, eyes slipping shut and stomach flip-flopping. "I love you, Lakers. I think I always have. I'm just so dumb that it's taken me forever to realize it."
I hear her sniffle and remind myself not to be a chicken.
As my eyes open slowly, hope and fear a nauseating mix as I wonder what her reaction will be, Lakely's lips press against mine. "I love you, too, you dumb boy," she giggles tearfully against my mouth, and I swear, hearing those words from her feels how I imagine lifting the Landon Donovan will one day. "I don't care that it took you this long or that you're dumb or that I'll probably have gray hair by the time I'm thirty, thanks to you." Pulling away just enough to laugh, I grin at the tears spilling over her face and the massive smile on her face.
It's my smile.
She's my Lakers.
"I love you, Arlo." If she weren't already flushed from the drugs and, you know, labor, I bet she'd blush when she adds, "I always have and I always will."
A little over an hour later, with tears pouring over my cheeks and a rush of emotions I don't know what to do with, I stare at her beautiful face as I tell her I love her more.
"You have to say that," she breathes tiredly, eyes moving between my face and somewhere south. My own gaze drops to the blanket-wrapped bundles in my arms, and I feel a swell of pride and sheer terror rising.
Our girls.
"Why do I have to say that?" I murmur, only half paying attention when she points out that she just gave me two adorable baby girls. I have to be nice to her.
"You did such a great job, honey," Mom murmurs, stroking Lakely's hair off her forehead. "I'm so proud of you. Both of you."
"I didn't do shit," I admit with a shrug, wincing when the babies both startle awake and blink their big eyes up at me. "Sorry, sorry."
A few gentle sways from side to side has them both drifting back off to sleep again against my chest, soft wisps of fair hair brushing my arms. I'm still in my soccer kit, the blue matching their milky blue eyes. Mom says they'll probably change over time since neither I nor Lakely have blue eyes. I'm still hoping they'll get their momma's eyes.
Lakely flashes me a smile when I look up, catching her soft, sleepy gaze. She hasn't stopped staring at me with the babies since the nurses got done cleaning them up and weighing them. They're both five pounds on the dot, both doing great despite their early delivery.
And, much to Mom's pleasure, they both look just like Rylee did when she was born.
That will probably change as they get older since Rylee is all Cullen now, but still...I know Mom digs it.
Mom's phone chimes from the table, and she grins when she reads the message. "There are a few people out in the waiting room who'd like to see your new little ones. Do you want me to tell them they have to wait?"
This is Lakely's show. She's the one who just pushed two human beings out of her body, so it's her I look to for an answer.
Yawning into her hand, she rests her head back into the pillows and smiles. "Go on, Arlo. Go show our girls off."
Our girls.
The giddy smile might stay on my face for the rest of my life.
If anyone had tried to tell me ten months ago that I'd become a proud—but scared shitless—dad the same day I scored the Championship winning goal, I would have laughed them out of town. I remember watching twins run rings around their parents on the beach in Miami while comforting myself with the knowledge that it would be years before I'd even be considering having kids.
But here I am, not even out of high school yet and holding the two most precious people in my life.
I have no idea what my future looks like now, no clue how we're going to navigate this new part of our lives, but these babies and their momma are worth every second of worry and stress.
"You sure?" I check, standing carefully so I don't wake the twins. Lakely nods, yawning again, her smile rueful as her eyes start to water. "I won't be long, I swear."
"It's fine, I'll just be here trying to stay awake."
Mom leans down, kissing her forehead. "Nap if you feel like you can, hon. The twins are out right now, but they won't stay that way for long. Get all the sleep you can."
Before stepping out, I brush a kiss over Lakely's forehead and grin as she kisses each of the twins' heads. "If they wake up…"
"I'll come right back," I promise.
Mom opens the door to the hall for me and smiles so big as she leads me down the hall toward the family room. We've been here hours, so I guess it's probably just Dad, the sixers, Jaxson, and Finley hanging around now.
I'm wrong. So wrong.
When we hit the last bend, I pull my attention away from the twins' funny sleep expressions enough to register voices. A lot of voices.
Warmth floods my body when we take the corner and I realize just how loved these itty bitty babies are already.
My grandparents are all here, and so are all my aunts and uncles. My cousins are spread around, too, the kids mostly on the floor since there aren't enough chairs to accommodate everybody. Charlotte and Heidi are sitting with the womenfolk—Nana, Nanny Jude, my aunts, and June, the friend Lakely made at the 'mom and me' class. I got Mom to call her and I'm glad she made it; she and Lakely have gotten real close recently, bonding over their similar situations. My eyes prickle when I spot my boys in Dolphin blue, just like me, Demetri and Liam and Watson playing cards with River, Mackenzie, and Asher. Tyler is here, too. He wanders in from the other side of the room with Jaxson, Finley, and Dad—it's the latter whose eyes lead the way when I clear my throat to get everyone's attention.
Dad is the first to reach me. His eyes are bright and shiny with tears as he grins, cupping the twins' heads gently. "All good?"
"All good," I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat because the pride in his gaze...it's humbling. "Lakely's good, and the babies are doing great even though they're tiny."
The room fills with excited hoots and hollers until one of the nurses hisses at everyone to hush. Laughing as Mom rushes over to smooth things out, I crouch a little to let the sixers come meet their new nieces before the mob descends on me and the twins.
"Oh, so cute," Rylee breathes, brushing her fingertips over a tiny button nose as Caben cocks his head at me and asks what their names are.
Everybody falls quiet, all waiting to hear my answer.
My eyes swing around the room until I find Mom tucked under Dad's arm, their smiles wide and wistful as they watch me show off their granddaughters. They're the best parents. I seriously couldn't have ever asked for better. I hope, more than anything, that one day my girls will look at me and Lakely and think the same thing.
"So, this is Willa," I start, watching Dad's face, catching the quick bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows hard. "Willa Edie."
For Willow and your dad, Lakely said when she suggested the names a couple of weeks back.
"Oh, Edie, like how some people call Dad, 'Eddie'?" Oakley asks, smirking at Dad.
"Yeah, Oaks, just like that."
"And the other baby?" Rylee asks, impatient as ever.
Grinning, I look down at Willa's sister as she opens her eyes just a little, unfocused blue eyes peering up at me. When she closes them, I find myself searching the sea of expectant faces again. When my eyes land on Pops, I breathe, "Cove. Cove Isabella."
He looks surprised, but I knew we had to use the name when Lakely told me about the conversation they had while I was in hospital. He wanted to use it for Dad or Uncle Jasper, but when they were boys, he didn't get to.
"That's pretty," Rylee decides, aiming a megawatt smile at me. "Can I hold one?"
"Sure."
"Sit down, please," Mom interjects gently, swiping her camera from Dad's pocket so she can snap pictures of the twins being passed around all the sixers, then their great-grandparents and great-aunts and -uncles.
When Pops gets Cove, he uses his free arm to hug me hard. "Thank you, Arlo."
"It's a great name, Pops." I lean into him as he gazes down at Cove. She's still asleep, her lips pursed and her tiny fist wrapped around his finger. "Lakely said you mentioned it in the hospital, and she couldn't get it outta her head."
"She's an angel, that girl. Don't let her get away, you'll regret it." His expression turns wistful, nostalgic, and I know without asking that he's thinking of Gamma Esme.
My heart pangs when Cove starts to fuss and he hands her back as I imagine myself with Lakely in fifty or sixty years, old and gray but still joined at the hip. I always kind of figured that would be us even before I realized what a blind idiot I'd been, but the picture has a totally new meaning now.
It's better than I ever could have imagined.
As always, thank you so much to each and every one of you for reading, reviewing, and loving on these guys like I do.
And of course, massive thank you to annaharding, Maplestyle, and hotteaforme for being my dream team and helping whip my words into shape.
If you're not in my reader group on FB, Ciara Shayee's Dreamers, come join us! I'll be doing reviewer appreciation posts and sending sneak peeks to the chosen reviewers every so often, so you don't want to miss out.
Anyways...happy Wednesday, everyone! xo