Page 194 of Chosen By a Baller 3: Playin’ For Keeps

He was cleared to play.

And, now, here we were.

I rested my hand against the small curve of my stomach underneath the Vipers jersey I had on.

“Look, baby. Daddy back.”

As if this nigga could hear me all the way down there, Kyrie turned toward the stands.

His eyes moved through the crowd for a few seconds before landing on me.

There was that damn smile.

I shook my head.

Kyrie pointed at me, tapped his chest, then blew me a kiss.

I caught it before pressing my hand against my chest.

One of his teammates saw him and shoved him, making Kyrie turn around and push his ass right back.

I laughed.

“Always fucking playing.”

But when I looked at him again, that smile on my face softened.

There was a time when I didn’t know if I would ever see him out there again.

Hell, there was a time when I didn’t give a damn if he ever played another game.

After getting that phone call and seeing him laid up in that hospital bed, football was the last thing on my mind.

I just wanted Kyrie alive.

That was it.

But I knew how much this shit meant to him.

I had watched him struggle through rehab. Watched him get frustrated when his body wouldn’t do what he wanted it to do. Watched him slowly get stronger until he started looking more and more like himself again.

So, seeing him standing on that field now?

That shit had me in my feelings.

I quickly blinked and sucked my teeth.

“Nawl. We ain’t doing that.”

I wasn’t about to start crying before the damn game even started.

✦ ✦

By the fourth quarter, my nerves were shot to hell.

“Come on, Big Daddy.”

The Vipers were down, there wasn’t much time left on the clock, and my ass had been on edge for the last few minutes.