Chapter 38
Decker
I’m laid out on one of the blankets, lounging in the sun, while K snoozes under the shade of our umbrella. No matter what I do—scroll on my phone, check the highlights from the other games in our division, or just zone out and listen to music—my gaze lands on her time and again.
I’ve been watching the three of them for almost an hour now.
Josephine and Locke might as well be little kids for the boundless energy they possess as they chase each other into the waves.
She’s good for him. Locke’s RA means he’s never not in pain, but he can be distracted enough to not allow it to be his sole focus.
As evidenced by the way he keeps chasing after Josephine and screaming in victory when he catches her.
Kylian might as well be playing the role of Kendrick Taylor today, given the near-constant scowl he’s got plastered on his face.
I give him ten more minutes before he retreats and leaves them to their games.
The guy hates the sand. And the ocean. He’s only pretending to tolerate all this for her.
He’s noticeably more chill now than he was earlier—she’s good for him, too.
Smirking, I lift my phone and zoom in on Kyl. I snap a picture to send to the group chat, but before I can hit send, the device vibrates in my hand.
I tighten my grip around it, allowing myself two seconds of resentment before I clear the emotion and spring to my feet.
I can’t avoid him forever. I’ve been expecting this call all day.
He doesn’t always call after my games, but he always calls on his bye week.
“I’ve gotta take this,” I mutter to Kendrick.
He acknowledges me with the lift of one hand, and I retrace my steps to the boardwalk.
“Hey, Dad,” I answer, slowing my stride as I climb the wooden steps. I pivot at the top, immediately scanning the shoreline until I find her again.
“Decker! It’s great to hear your voice, son.”
“Yeah, you, too. It’s your bye week?” I ask, simply to make conversation. I know his team’s schedule as well as I know my own.
“It is. I won’t have a chance to make it to North Carolina this week, but we’ll see each other later this month for the photoshoot.”
I still, gripping the wooden railing along the boardwalk.
I visualize my calendar and try to recall exactly which photoshoot he’s talking about, but I draw a blank.
“What are the dates of that again?” I hedge.
“That’s what I called to talk to you about. That, and your Cleveland-worthy performance last night,” he jibes. “You thinking of joining the ranks of the cardiac kids?”
Gritting my teeth, I fight back a growl at the backhanded joke.
“I don’t know,” I reply when I’m sure my tone will come out even. “Stefanski’s an outstanding coach. He’s got a strong grasp on the stats game, too.”
A disgruntled huff is all the response my wisecrack earns.
As much as I like the idea of following in my dad’s footsteps and playing for the South Carolina Cougars, I’m open to other opportunities. Especially if those opportunities allow me to stick with Kylian.
Kendrick and I would love to play together when we go pro, but that dream isn’t all that realistic. Not with the way the draft is expected to go. He’s got the speed, yards, and power to hold his own. He’ll get picked up within the first few rounds if we keep showing up big this season.
And right there’s the rub.
He got it together and pulled us through the second half of the game yesterday, while I was totally off-kilter until the last two minutes.
I’m drawn to the shoreline again, where Locke is picking Joey up from behind and spinning her around in the surf.
I can’t hear them, but joy radiates from both of them.
It’s in every carefree movement and the smiles that seem to grow bigger with every passing minute.
I can practically feel the lightness and happiness rolling off them, even from here.
Dammit. Maybe I am jealous. I yearn to be the one holding her, playing in the surf, burying my head between her thighs when we get home—
“—you play after a tough game speaks volumes. All eyes will be on you next week when you’re in Texas. Keep that in mind—”
He drones on, but the words don’t register. The entirety of my focus is on her.
“I’ll arrive the following week. The first photoshoot will happen at the house, as long as the weather cooperates and the lighting is good.”
That gets my attention.
“Remind me again about the shoot?”
A beat of tense silence passes. Obviously, this is something I shouldn’t need to be reminded of.
“It’s for the SportsZone double feature,” he offers.
“The collector’s editions? Four special edition covers, one of each of us, then two of us together.
Father and son. The reporter and photographers will want to start setting up at the house in the next week or two.
Misty should have gone over the details already. ”
“She has,” I rush to assure him, making a mental note to ask Misty to resend the schedules and requirements as soon as possible.
More often than not, I don’t pay attention to the details of the NIL commitments and terms laid out each season. I just show up where I’m supposed to be when I’m supposed to be there.
But now that it’s not just me and the boys…
This acute need to shield her from the media and protect her from the spotlight hits me hard in the gut. With her history, she’d hate every second of it. If she got caught up in this publicity, would it jeopardize the fresh start she’s worked so hard for?
“Hey, Dad?”
I’ve completely lost track of the conversation, but it doesn’t matter. Because my gut is churning at just the thought of allowing cameras into our home.
“Maybe now isn’t the best time to have people at the house. Reporters. Cameras. It’s a little much, with it being mid-season and all of us trying to stay on top of our schoolwork, too.”
Silence ensues.
Rather than wait him out like I should, I fill the emptiness with more thin justifications.
“I’ve been having a hard time focusing since the concussion,” I admit. That’s not a lie. He doesn’t need to know that for the most part, my inability to concentrate can be attributed to the girl in the hot pink bikini playing in the waves.
Between everything Josephine has been through, then what we all endured when the Sharks took her from us, we could all use some time to rest. Recover. We need a minute to settle into this new version of whatever it is we’re doing.
“Do your coaches know?”
I blow out a long breath, leaning back on the railing, and survey the wooden planks covered in sand.
Kylian’s right. It’s pervasive.
Just like the media and their pursuit of private information.
Just like my dad and his insatiable desire for fame.
“They’re aware. They know I’m still working my way back to 100 percent. That timeline might speed up a bit if it was quieter at the house.”
His slight scoff raises the hairs on the back of my neck.
“Is that why you canceled your party last night?” he asks.
My heart drops into my stomach, and I shake my head. Of course he knows. Of fucking course.
It was the right call. For her. For them. For all of us. But I knew it wouldn’t be without consequences.
I spent hours on the phone on Wednesday afternoon, moving things around and making alternate arrangements.
Misty had to do all sorts of schedule shuffling to make sure we could still meet our content quotas for the week without hosting the party.
She wasn’t happy with me, but I didn’t give her much choice in the matter.
In the name of compromise, I’ll be spending all day Tuesday taking pictures and filming brand footage.
Before I can formulate a suitable reply, he presses on.
His tone far too haughty for a father talking to his son, he asks, “Or does this have something to do with the girl you were kissing on the field after the game?”
God dammit.
A breath passes. Then another.
If I acknowledge her, name her, tie her to me in any way, I put her at risk.
If I pretend she’s no one…
God-fucking-dammit.
“It’ll all be fine, son,” my dad reassures me, instantly flipping back to his chipper, media-trained tone.
His questions weren’t questions at all. They were warning shots.
“Real and raw is what these special features are all about. They want to see you in action—at school, at home, on the field. They want to see how the son of Thomas Crusade does it all.”
Running my hand through my hair, I grip the back of my neck. Anything I say will be met with opposition. All I want to protect is at risk because of this feature.
I squint toward the shoreline, suddenly hit with an urgent need to set eyes on each one of them. Kendrick’s joined them now, standing beside Kylian at the water’s edge, hollering and egging them on as Josephine and Locke play in the water.
Hit with a wave of determination, I shoot my shot. He already knows my whole playbook. I might as well come out with it and go for the Hail Mary.
“What would have to happen for the coverage to only feature Kendrick and me?”
More silence. Consideration, maybe?
If only. The second he speaks, it’s obvious he’s going to shut me down.
“That’s not the agreement, son. SportsZone wants unbarred access.
They’re planning twenty-four seven coverage.
In fact, a camera crew will be by to set up equipment for B-roll in the next week or so.
When you signed that contract, you agreed to full access, and your roommates are included in that.
The scope of this feature is covered by the NDA they each signed when they moved into my house. ”
The reminder of whose name is on the deed hits as intended.
As does the mention of the guys. One of my “roommates” hasn’t signed an NDA. And there’s no fucking way I’m sticking her in front of a camera or giving anyone access to her in any way.
Blowing out a long breath, I relinquish any hope that my dad will help me with this. I’ll have to figure it out with the guys, or on my own.
“Cameras will be installed in a week?”
“Next weekend, I believe. Double-check with Misty. She has the full schedule.” Voice low, he adds, “I worked hard to make this happen for you, son. This isn’t just another media spot. It’s the equivalent of your professional debut as you transition from college ball and prepare to go pro.”
A few weeks ago, I would have been thrilled.
Now I’m filled with dread. Unease. Worry. After what we’ve been through over the last few weeks… after everything she’s endured to have a chance at the life she wants to live…
“See you in a few weeks,” I force out. With that, I end the call before I end up throwing my phone off the boardwalk.