Chapter 30
thirty
. . .
Lincoln
“That was an impressive first day, Linc,” Coach Balboa said. “You’re exactly what this team needs. I think we’re going to take it the whole way this year.”
“Yeah. It’s a great group of guys. We’re going to work well together.”
“You’re at the hotel for now, right? You going to check out a few houses this week?” he asked as we walked toward the locker room.
I nodded, but my gut was in knots today. I hadn’t slept well the last two nights because I missed my girl something fierce. We’d barely spoken, but I’d called to check on her a few times. I was trying to respect her space, but it was fucking killing me.
“Yep. I have a few homes lined up to tour later in the week.”
“When is Brinkley coming out?” he asked. He knew we were together, as did Brett and Lenny. Hell, they’d all seen it the first time they’d met her before we were even together. I think they probably knew before I did.
I scrubbed a hand down the back of my neck and let out a breath. “Not sure. She’s going through some shit. You know, dating me isn’t easy, especially if you’re trying to make a name for yourself as a sports journalist.”
He came to a stop. “How so?”
“You don’t need to waste your time on this shit. You’ve got a team to coach.”
“Lincoln, you’re a member of this team. That means we’re family.
Your problems are my problems. Tell me what’s going on.
I’ve been married for thirty-five years, and I have three daughters.
I know a thing or two about women.” I smiled.
This was what I hadn’t had on my last team.
Balboa actually cared about his players, and we weren’t just dollar signs to him.
“She had an interview with Sports Today the day before I flew out. They asked that she bring me along to the interview.”
“It’s not public knowledge that you’re a couple yet, right? Why’d they want you there?”
“She wrote that story about me, and she’s been shopping it around.
Obviously, they want it. So, they were going to make her an offer for a full-time position, along with her agreeing to give them the story.
But when we got there, they didn’t do that.
They basically just wanted me to agree to as many interviews as they wanted as leverage to give her a job.
They treated her pretty shitty, and I got her the hell out of there. ”
“That’s just fucking wrong. I’m guessing she doesn’t want to give them the story or work there now.”
“She was mad but also really disappointed. She’d really wanted it.
Then she was questioning if a part of me was happy because it meant that was one less potential position that would keep her out west. And sure, I’d like her to be living here with me; I can’t deny that.
But I didn’t want that shit to happen. And then you add in the element that now, she doesn’t know if anyone will hire her for the right reasons, and she doesn’t want to just be known as my girlfriend, or some shit like that.
Hell, I get it. She was mad I jumped in, but I wasn’t about to sit there any longer after the way they were treating her.
I don’t know.” I scrubbed a hand down my face.
“She wants some time to figure out where she fits into my world and how this will work.”
He nodded. “I get that. It’s a lot. Relationships are tough on their own, but bringing in the element of fame, and her wanting to find her own way with her career, complicates things.
But the greatest advice I can give you is that this is not about you, Lincoln.
She’s trying to prove herself, and I’m guessing it’s not easy to be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t need to prove himself anymore.
She’s a strong woman. It sounds like she doesn’t want to just exist in your world; she wants to create her own and share it with you.
Hell, it’s refreshing. Think about how many women out there want to be with you for the wrong reasons.
You’ve found the one that isn’t in it for the fame or for what you can do for her.
She wants to make her own way. I fucking respect the hell out of that. ”
“I agree. But I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Well, I think she told you how to fix it. By giving her space to deal with it herself. You could try just listening to what she asked of you. Respecting her wishes.”
“Fuck. Patience is not my strength. She’s not calling much, just short little texts. I’m freaking the fuck out.”
“Take it from a man who has lived with four women… you’ll get better over time. She doesn’t want you to interfere. She wants you to trust her to handle it. It’s pretty simple, actually.”
“And what if she goes to work for some asshole like Lou Colson? Am I just supposed to stand by and do nothing?”
“Absolutely. That’s exactly what you do until she asks for your help. She’s a strong woman. Do you really think she’s going to put up with a guy like Lou for long? You’ve got to trust her, Linc. It won’t work if you don’t. She’s fighting for that independence right now. Let her have it.”
“Fuck. You make a good point.” I shrugged. “I’ll give her space. I’m going to catch a shower and head out.”
“All right. Call me if you need anything. Good job today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I thought about what he’d said as I showered, and after I dried off and got dressed, I made my way back to the hotel.
My phone dinged with a text from my girl right when I got to my room.
Brinkley
I hope your first day of practice went well. I love you. Thanks for giving me time to think.
There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.
She didn’t respond. I fucking hated this. I wanted her here, but Coach Balboa was right—this wasn’t about me.
Patience wasn’t my strong suit. I wanted this shit behind us.
But I’d put my head down and focus on what I could do right now, which was training hard for the new season.
And that was exactly what I did.
Three fucking long, painful days had passed.
I’d barely slept because now that I’d grown used to having her in my bed, I couldn’t sleep without her.
So, I ran harder. Lifted more. Pushed out on the field like I was playing in the fucking Super Bowl every damn day.
“Jesus, dude. You’re a fucking superhero. I need a break. Water. Maybe a goddamn banana. I can’t go this hard in the heat without a breather,” Brett said, as he clapped me on the shoulder.
“You don’t win Super Bowls by taking breaks every five minutes,” I hissed.
“Uh, I hate to be the one to tell you this, asshole, but we’ve been going hard for over five hours. And Brett’s right. But I don’t think you’re a superhero. I think you’re a grumpy dick,” Lenny said.
“I’ve been called worse.”
I’ve also been called better. A rude gentleman.
I’d spent most of my life not allowing myself to be vulnerable. Not getting attached to anyone outside of my mother.
I’d put my guard down with Brinkley, and I was paying for it now.
Because I missed her. I didn’t know what to do with that. How to fix it. And I wasn’t used to not being in control. Not being able to figure shit out.
Tia had lectured me last night when we’d FaceTimed about respecting Brinkley’s space.
Apparently, she talked to my girlfriend a lot more than I did right now.
She’d gone on and on about how women need to have their own identity, and Romeo had popped in and rolled his eyes, which earned him an elbow to the side.
My texts with Brinkley were brief.
She basically just wanted to know that I was surviving training camp.
Hell, I was begging to be challenged physically right now, because that was the best way that I knew how to numb myself. Working so hard that I couldn’t think about anything else.
But it wasn’t fucking working.
“Sorry. Just want to have a good season.”
“Bullshit, brother.” Brett wrapped an arm around my shoulder and led us to the locker room. “It’s about Brinkley, you pussy-whipped motherfucker.”
“It’s always about a girl.” Lenny barked out a laugh. “Our boy has got it bad.”
“Fuck you.” I rolled my eyes.
“It’s only been a few days. You need to chill. She’ll come around.” Lenny dropped his bag onto the bench, and I opened my locker.
I didn’t know if she was going on more interviews or what was happening. She’d tell me when she was ready.
Her brothers and brother-in-law were texting me often, but they were tight-lipped about Brinkley. I’d tried to ask a few questions, and Cage had called me out and said they knew better than to speak for her.
I nodded. “I’m fine. You pussies just can’t keep up with me. That’s on you.”
Brett barked out a laugh. “You want to go grab some beers tonight? Blow off some steam?”
“Maybe tomorrow. My mom moved into her new house yesterday, so I’m going to head over there and help her unpack for a few hours.”
“I love Mama Hendrix. Tell her as soon as she’s settled, I’ll be expecting an invitation to come over for her famous chili,” Brett said.
“Mama Hendrix is hot, just like her chili,” Lenny sang out, and I reached for my towel and snapped him on the side. He howled, and everyone laughed.
“Do not call my mother hot,” I grumped.
More laughter.
This was the team I was meant to play with.
We were going to do big things together, but I couldn’t get excited about it just yet.
Because nothing worked when she wasn’t here.