CHAPTER 12 Tanner Banks
A Threesome Could Be Just the Thing
It’s easy to pretend like that night never happened over the next couple weeks as I get to work with the Storm.
My brother and I officially move to San Diego, and we’re thrust into the thick of things as training camp gets under way in another week. We’re here with the rookies, training hard and getting to know people before the rest of the squad joins us.
It’s our way of getting to know the team, the coaching styles, and the front office and how involved they get in the day-to-day field operations.
It’s easy to push it all away as I’m immersed into a totally new life.
All I’ve ever known is Arizona, and when a new day dawns each morning, I find myself getting out of bed earlier than usual, pulling on some gear, and heading for the beach to run.
It’s a hell of a workout on my legs, and there’s something tranquil about being on the beach.
It also gives me time to think.
I’m so used to not thinking—to just reacting in the moment—that I’ve trained myself to shut down that part of my brain when I need to. It goes hand-in-hand with my theory that emotions are nothing more than distractions.
I can’t let myself be distracted. I have an entire team looking at me to be their leader, an entire fanbase looking at me to lead them to victory. I can’t let them down.
I won’t let them down.
Miller knows this about me, and he understands this about me. We have the unspoken, intuitive understanding of each other in a way nobody else will ever be able to grasp, and that’s a pretty damn powerful bond.
Like the fact that he picked out this house for us. He knew what we both wanted without me having to say a single word about it.
And normally that’s a good thing.
But when I want to hide my feelings about something…well, I can’t hide from him. Ever.
And that’s why I’m out the door before he leaves for practice, and I meet him in the locker room instead of in the kitchen of the house we share.
We have different meetings and different practices since we play different positions, but I know I can’t avoid him forever.
When Friday afternoon hits and the rookies are let out of practice early, I head up to chat with the coaches before I go home.
And I can’t avoid my brother any longer.
“The fuck is going on with you?” he asks from his spot on the couch in the family room when I walk in.
I feign innocence for all of a few seconds before I slide onto the couch beside him. I stare at the television that’s currently paused on one of the hosts of SportsCenter, and I sigh.
I can’t hide it from him any longer. “I hooked up with someone that night in Vegas when I left the club early. ”
“I knew it.” Of course he did. He always knows, just like I know when something’s going on with him. “And that’s what got you all twisted?”
“ She got me all twisted,” I admit. “I’m trying to distance myself from it, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“What about it?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I murmur. I think back to that night. It wasn’t just the way her lips parted when she moaned, or the way her body writhed as she came, or the way she looked at me.
I keep thinking about the part before I took her up to my room. Walking through the gardens with her at my hotel and seeing the joy on her face as she identified a flower. The way she licked her bottom lip when a drop of honey mustard fell on it and the way it felt like we were connected from the second our eyes met at the bar.
I can’t tell Miller all that shit, though. It’s emotions. I don’t do emotions.
I blow out a breath. “She left an impression, that’s all.”
“The sex was that good?”
I chuckle. “Well, yeah. She had a magic pussy. But beyond all that, she wasn’t into football.”
“How’d she know you, then?”
I shrug. “She asked if I’m a football player, and we got to talking. I was a little buzzed from the tequila, but so was she. She just got divorced, and she was in Vegas celebrating. I was in Vegas celebrating. One thing led to another. By the time we got back to my hotel room, we were sober enough to know what we were doing, and we had a great night. But it sort of seems like that’s all she wanted.”
“You wanted more?” he asks, surprise evident in his tone .
“I don’t know.” I hear the frustration in my own tone. “It was a one-night stand. Her hot hookup. I gave her my number. She hasn’t used it. I don’t even know where she’s from.”
“You could call the club and maybe get a name from her receipt from that night,” he suggests.
I give him a look like he’s lost his mind. “And, what, call her out of the blue? To say what? ‘Hey, it’s Tanner from that night in Vegas. Remember how good the sex was? I’d love to do that again.’”
He shrugs. “Why not? Maybe she’s thinking about you, too, but she’s got the advantage since she knows who you are. Maybe she’d be thrilled to hear from you.”
“And maybe our kicker will score a touchdown this season,” I say, trying to think of something as ridiculous as what he’s insinuating.
“Well, whatever you decide, I don’t know how to say this kindly, so I’ll be blunt. Get your shit together. It’s affecting your performance, man.”
“Thanks for the brutal honesty,” I say dryly. “I know it is. I’m working on it, and I’ll be good to go by Monday.”
And then Monday comes, and “Centuries” by Fall Out Boy is blasting over the PA system while I’m out on the field practicing, and I’m not good to go as promised.
I don’t know why I can’t get her out of my head, but I’m running into reminders of her literally everywhere I go.
Sweet potato fries on the buffet table after practice.
Avocado with my morning eggs before practice.
Peach flowers in the flower beds in front of the practice facility.
Fall Out Boy on repeat.
She’s literally everywhere, and I can’t seem to escape her.
I guess having her as a distraction takes my mind off the fact that I don’t even know who I am anymore. My jersey says Banks , but I’m a Nash now. Am I supposed to take that last name? Eddie Nash didn’t raise us, and I don’t want to be associated with him.
But there’s more to the name than just Eddie. There are my four half-brothers, for one thing. They’re four great guys who I’m proud to call my brothers, and so is Miller.
And that’s why, as practice comes to a close on our first day of training camp, neither Miller nor I decline when Spencer invites us out to dinner afterward.
We head to a restaurant near the training facility, and we’re seated in a back corner booth for privacy.
“How are you liking San Diego so far?” Spencer asks after we order our food.
Miller and I glance at each other, and he nods for me to answer.
“Can’t beat the weather. July in Arizona was basically hell on earth, so we’re happy to be here.”
“It’s okay to go deeper than the weather with me,” Spencer says gently.
“I like that Coach Dell trusts me,” I say quietly. “I like that he wants to work in tandem with me rather than…well, rather than how it was before.”
Spencer nods knowingly. “He’s an incredible coach. One of the best.” He turns to Miller. “You?”
He lifts a shoulder. “The food’s just fair.”
Spencer and I both laugh.
“He likes it spicy,” I explain. “Arizona had decent choices when it came to his spicy food.”
“Most restaurants here only offer Tabasco. I’m more of a Cholula guy,” Miller says.
“I know some good places with spicy food,” Spencer assures us, and we laugh. We make small talk about the offense while we dig into our dinners, and just as I’ve taken my last bite, Spencer narrows his eyes at me.
“So if you’re enjoying it so much, what’s going on with you?”
I swallow my food before I attempt to respond. “Excuse me?”
Miller rolls his eyes. “He’s obsessing over some woman.”
“I am not,” I say both defensively and petulantly.
“Dude, yes, you are. You’ve had plenty of one-night stands before that haven’t distracted you like this,” he points out.
“I’m not distracted. I’m over it.” More defensiveness. More petulance.
Spencer looks between us like he’s watching some tennis match, and I nod toward him.
“How do you know something’s going on with me?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. You just seem…a little distracted. And you know how bad distractions are for the field.”
“Yeah, I’m aware, thanks.” I’m also aware I don’t need to be a dick about it, but I can’t seem to stop that either. “Look, it’s fine. It was a one-night thing, and I’ll move on. Okay? Look, already moving on.” My eyes follow two attractive women as they make their way into the restaurant, and I think a threesome could be just the thing that helps break me out of whatever this is.
The truth of it is that I’m going through a lot of life changes right now, and thinking about the night we shared gives me a warmth I’m not used to feeling…because I’m not used to allowing emotions in.
But I’m also not used to moving to a new city, or to finding out my mom lied to me my entire life, or to building my own plays with a new coach as we work to find our rhythm together. Or to finding out my biological father also fathered four other NFL players. Five if you count my twin .
It’s a lot for one person to take on, and while football was always my distraction, Spencer sitting across from us having a brotherly chat is just further evidence of how much has changed in the last few months.
It’s also proof that I haven’t dealt with any of it yet.
I didn’t think I needed to.
But if someone who hardly knows me is calling me out on my shit, it’s time to change something .
And that’s why I make a vow. I’ll push her out of my mind. She’s in the past. I won’t worry about the Nash thing for now. I’m a Banks, or a Banks-Nash, or a Nash. It doesn’t matter what my jersey says as long as I get to play football.
I’ll push it all away and focus on the game.
Because that’s the healthy way to deal with things.
Right?