Page 46 of The New York Nighthawks, Vol. 2

DEMPSEY

Caden, my four-month-old son, blew a raspberry, then giggled, making me grin as I bounced him in my arms.

Not to be outdone by his older brother, Cameron—who was cuddled up in my wife’s arms—shouted gibberish, then laughed like he’d just told the world’s funniest joke.

“I can’t believe this day is finally here,” Skye chirped, her eyes scanning the building in front of us.

The first Dawson Tate Community Rec Center—named after my best friend and my father who’d been instrumental in helping me develop the project way back at the beginning—was finally opening its doors.

And the community football team, the Harlem Nighthawks, had their first practice in the facility tonight. Coached by two of my teammates.

When the owner of the Nighthawks, Lennox Madison, got wind of my project, he’d let me have it for not coming to him for help, then asked me how much to make the check out for. He also donated a portion of ticket sales as a steady income stream for the centers.

I’d been blown away when most of my teammates offered time and money as well. Because of their generosity, the next two centers would be up and running in the next couple of months.

“Dempsey,” Lennox called to me and waved me over to the front doors where he was talking with Peter MacDonald—the CEO of Best Sports. I handed Caden to my mother and made my way over to the small group gathered to one side of the giant red ribbon blocking the entrance.

Roan, a teammate and good friend, handed me a giant pair of scissors and grinned. “Try not to fumble these and maim yourself, D. Got a game tomorrow.”

I rolled my eyes and took the prop, muttering about smart-ass ballers. Although I had planned to retire last season, Skye had talked me into putting it off for a year so we’d at least have pictures of the boys in the stadium watching me play, even though they were too young to remember.

The crowd went quiet when I walked to the center of the ribbon.

“Speech!” Nixon—another teammate and neighbor—shouted. His wife whacked him on the shoulder, and he just shrugged with a dopey smile.

“Welcome,” I said. “Thanks to everyone who helped make this happen.”

That was as much of a speech as they were going to get. I cut the ribbon and smiled from ear to ear at the cheer that erupted from the crowd. Skye beamed at me, and the pride and love shining from her beautiful brown orbs fell over me like a warm, snuggly blanket. I loved my wife so damn much.

She’d finished culinary school shortly before the twins were born. But rather than take one of the many offers to be a chef at a high-end New York City restaurant, she’d decided to stay home with our boys and use her skills in other ways.

To my surprise, she approached me with the idea of a cafeteria for after-school snacks, as well as during games.

She also wanted to use the kitchen to cater any events we held at the center.

She dove right in, designing the spaces, working up menus and recipes, and training staff to do things “the right way.”

This became our dream instead of just mine. We’d created it together, just like our little family.

I walked back to my wife and children, giving each one of them a kiss—although I lingered a little longer on Skye’s lips.

The heat in her eyes tempted me to skip all this and take her home to bed.

She must have seen my intentions on my face because she took a step back, shaking her head.

“Oh no, Dempsey Tate. We are going to celebrate with everyone.” Then she gave me a sassy smile.

“Save all this for tonight.” She gestured up and down my body, making me grin.

“Like what you see, Mrs. Tate?”

She bit her lip, then released it with a giggle when I glared at her. “Definitely. You are one hot receiver, Mr. Tate.”