Boarding the airplane to travel across the country has my nerves shredded. We lost to Baltimore in overtime at home last week. It was our first loss of the season. Now we’re gearing up for our first Monday night football game. Traveling to Philadelphia on a Sunday afternoon.

Our moms have stepped up to the plate to watch over Justice. Thank God for that, or I’d be drowning in a swamp full of guilt by now.

Between my family and hers, we’ve moved all her things into my house, settled in, and now that she’s flying with the team, I’ve been able to sleep a hell of a lot better.

There have been no more full-blown panic attacks in the past few weeks either. That doesn’t mean I don’t glimpse slivers of anxiety creeping up her spine. I do my best to help her get through it. As the days go by, our schedules become cohesive, making life easier for everyone. And with Alex living here now, it’s making things a hell of a lot easier for her at work.

Justice still throws up like clockwork every single morning. At first, we tried saltines and ginger ale, but none of it worked. She’s come to the terms that upchucking was the way she’d start her day. It hits her throughout the day as well, and if I didn’t know the outcome was going to be the best accomplishment we’ve done together, I’d run for the goddamn mountains. The woman is a strong one, but she is over throwing up.

She rested a few days when she first came home from the hospital; then she set up an office in the house, works a few days from there and a few at the stadium.

“Here, baby.” I take her bag and stow it under the seat in front of us. Slide out of the way and wait for her to take her seat.

“Thank you.” She plops down, buckles up, and is out by the time the wheels are off the ground.

Our circumstance is not the typical one by any stretch of the imagination.

I watch her sleep for a couple of minutes. She is far from the pain in the ass she thinks she is. She’s having a tough time of it, is all. Add the stress of not feeling safe and the insanity of the press once word hit the streets of Boise about her being pregnant, and it would drive anyone to panic.

It would be our damn luck an employee of the local news station would hear me talking about her pregnancy on the Green Belt that day. The best part of it is, our PR team at the Idaho Diamonds handled it with ease and professionalism. Pictures from our college days were shared about a second-chance love story. It seems the public are huge fans of second chances, just like the ones Justice reads.

We are coined as the modern-day JFK and Jackie O. I’ve noticed it’s boosted Justice’s confidence and quelled her anxiety. Idaho loves her, and she loves Idaho.

Her light snores make me smile as I put on my Bluetooth Beats and lift the armrest separating us. I extend my arm over her shoulder, tugging her to me. She rests her head on my shoulder, and I kiss the top of her head. I’m a king with everything he needs.

Once we arrive at the hotel, I grab our bags, and we head inside. The team hotel is swarming with media, fans, and staff all wanting to get a glimpse of the team as we walk in. It’s a damn media circus. Justice and I stride through it all hand in hand. I’m thankful the lobby of the hotel is not as crowded. Of course, there are a few people with their cell phones out wanting to get pictures.

“Mr. Blake.” I halt and turn to see two redheads with cell phones in their hands. “Could we please get a picture? We’ve followed you since college.”

These women aren’t your ordinary football fans. No, they have fake-ass fucking big tits spilling out of their Idaho Diamonds V-neck shirts. I’m a man who appreciates tits. However, there is only one pair that has any power over me.

“Please.” One of them hops up and down in place singing out the one word in a whiny-as-hell voice. Her tits are bouncing just as high. Jesus.

Justice places her hand on my chest, peers up to me through her thick eyelashes, batting them slightly, and purrs just like the obnoxious women in front of me. “You heard them, Mr. Blake. They are die-hard fans. They’re even wearing your number.”

I bite down on my lip and lean down to whisper in her ear. “You’ll be wearing my number later when I spank your ass tonight for this.”

“We’ll see.” She kisses my cheek and then whispers back. “I’m going to withhold sex for a week, too. I saw you checking out their racks.”

It’s a running joke in this league about some of the female fans and thinking if they show us their tits it’s game on for them. I throw my head back and erupt in laughter.

“Alright, ladies, let’s do this.” I place my hand on Justice’s ass, lean in once again. “I’m going to show you whose tits I love when I come all over yours.” I slap her ass, move to the girls, and smile.

I can see the laughter Justice is trying to hide as she tosses back her shoulders and shimmies her front. It happens so damn quick I’m the only one who picks up on it. Damn crazy woman.

After the fifth selfie, my patience has run out. I swear to God if they check the picture one more time after it’s taken and declare their angle was off, I will smash their fucking phone. All the while my little vixen has her elbow propped up on a counter with a full smirk on her face, watching the show while I listen to these women tell me the things they would love to do. To me. Together.

Finally, Justice saunters up to us. One high heel boot is beating down on the tile before the next. Hell, tits could be on my face, and I’d notice nothing but her. She wraps her arms low around my torso, tiptoeing up to peck my cheek.

“Sorry, girls. Gotta get him to bed.” She pats my abs. “This beast needs all of his energy for the game.”

The fans aren’t impressed. “So, it’s true, then; you are taken?”

“I am.” In the best of ways.

As they turn to walk away, Justice pulls something out of her purse.

“Excuse me,” she calls out after them, extending the tickets in her hands. “If you’re ever in Idaho, the game is on me.”

They brighten up and leave us for good.

“That was damn nice of you.” I lean down and kiss the top of her head.

“It was either that or kick in their inflated boobs with my boots. I chose the higher road.”

We laugh all the way into the elevator.

* * *

Philadelphia’s fans are known to be brutal. Hell, they’d even boo Santa Claus off the field. Coach has all of us dialed in to play smart and with heart. I find Justice sitting in the skybox with all of her family surrounding her, which keeps my head focused on the game.

The entire Diamond clan flooded out to watch the game since we’re on the East Coast. There’s a shit ton of them. Mom and Rowe look like they fit right in with the mob family. I shake my head.

“Get your head on straight, Liam.” Dad comes up to me, nudging my shoulder.

“Eh?” I turn to him, gripping my helmet in my hand.

“You’re pushing yourself in too many different directions. She’s fine. Focus on the game.” He spits out a seed. “Before you go and get all defensive, I know you’ve been under stress. Life is throwing a ton of shit in your direction. However, you won’t be any good to Justice or this team injured.” He grips my shoulder. “She’s safe with her family, your mom and sister are safe, we all love you, and right now your only job is to focus on the next four quarters and nothing else.”

He’s right. I nod. “Got it.”

“Philadelphia’s defense is going to be tough as hell; you know this. While they play dirty, you play smart. Don’t throw away the ball, step back and find your man.” Dad squeezes my shoulder again. “Don’t tell you enough, boy, but I’m damn proud of you,” I swear he stumbles over his words, and hell, I think he has tears in his eyes. “You’ve worked your ass off to get back on the field. Don’t think I could have gone through the intense physical therapy you did to get back here today, so don’t let any motherfucker out there knock you down. Game-day focus. No one is letting her out of their sight. I promise, son. Don’t give her or you anything else to worry about.”

With that, he tucks his hand into the front of his hoodie, pulling out more sunflower seeds, and walks back to his spot. There’s no bigger compliment I could receive than the words my dad just gifted me with. He’s right. I need to focus on nothing but the game. Our families have us and always will. Laser-intense determination. My band of brothers who will be soldiers on the field by my side. And as he so eloquently said, don’t let a motherfucker knock you down.