Chapter Twenty-Six Danny
Good thing I had work and practice to keep me busy on Wednesday after spending Tuesday night in Taryn’s bed. It barely held the two of us, which meant I had no choice but to hold her in my arms all night long. Best damn sleep I’d ever had—even if I did wake up with morning wood so hard I could pound nails.
Though I was cutting it close to make weight training on time, I’d needed a cold shower. While I’d cooled down from waking up next such a hot woman, she cooked a fried-egg sandwich for me to eat on the road. Her offering wasn’t as filling as one of Callahan and Bax’s breakfast burritos, but it was a damn sight better than nothing. That tiny gesture told me everything. Taryn was all in with me even if she wasn’t quite ready for everything I wanted— needed —with her.
Not spending Thanksgiving with her and her awesome family seriously killed me. Then she told me about Watson. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something in those texts was off, like she was leaving something out. She said he hadn’t gotten out of his truck, but I still had a bad feeling. I took it out on the second-team defense in practice Thanksgiving morning.
As we stood in the showers afterward, Callahan said, “Coach naming you a starter fired you up, huh?” With a grin he stuck his fist out for me to bump. “If you block like that on Saturday, Tarvi’s going to buy you steak for dinner.”
“I’m going to do what?” the man in question asked as he stepped under the spray on the other side of ’Han.
“Thank Danny for opening holes in the D-line as big as the ones I give you to run through.” Callahan’s laughter echoed in the tiled showers.
“Damn, son. I don’t know what got into you out there this morning, but I’m fucking jacked to have you on my side of the line,” Tarvi said, grinning.
With a nod, I said, “Thanks. It’s fun to play with men who have each other’s backs.”
“As opposed to...?” Callahan let the question hang.
“As opposed to assholes who bully their teammates into letting them have their way on the field—and off.” I stepped under the spray and let the hot water sluice soap off my body. Bracing my hands on the wall, I soaked up the pounding heat over my neck and shoulders, willing the shower to drain away some of the tension I couldn’t seem to shake.
“What’s the story there, Danny?” Callahan asked.
Years of moving from town to town, school to school, had taught me to guard my thoughts, but Callahan was my roommate—someone who didn’t need to offer me a place to live and had offered anyway. After living with him for months and seeing him in action on and off the field, I’d figured out he was good people—someone I could trust. Tarvi had mine and Taryn’s number right out of the gate, even before we finally escalated our friendship into the more we’d both been wanting for forever. I could trust these guys.
“The QB of the last high-school team I played on set all the rules, especially off the field. I wanted to catch passes on Friday nights, so I played by his sucky rules.” I shut the water off and grabbed my towel. “Taryn could have been— should have been—mine in high school. Instead I friend-zoned her because Watson had a hard-on for her even though she’d shot him down for years.” After drying off, I wrapped the towel around my waist. “Yesterday when she went home to see her parents, he showed up to give her a hard time. Somehow he always knows when she’s in town, and he never stops coming at her.” I tossed my towel on the bench, pulled on my boxers and jeans, and sat to put on my socks.
“Sounds like the guy’s a little obsessed,” Callahan said as he sat on the bench beside me.
“Sounds like you need to watch out for your girl,” Tarvi added from where he stood in front of his locker.
“The thing is”—I pulled my T-shirt over my head—“he never really liked her. I think she’s just the one notch from high school he has left on his bedpost, you know? He slept with every popular girl in school except for her.” I shoved my feet into my boots and bent to lace them up. “I heard rumors that some of those girls said no and he ignored them, took what he wanted anyway, but none of them ever said anything publicly.” A picture of him sneering at my girl on her front lawn last summer slipped into my head.
“Hey, buddy, relax. We aren’t going back out on the field until tomorrow,” Callahan said.
When I shot him a quizzical look, he glanced down at my hands and back to my face. Only then did I clue in that my hands hurt from flexing my fists.
“T said something about Watson getting kicked off the team at Wyoming because of rumors about his behavior with women. Guess I’ve been thinking about that since she texted last night.”
“Wait. Are you talking about Derek Watson? The heavily recruited quarterback who washed out?” Callahan asked as he stood and pulled his MSC hoodie over his head. “My friend Jamal Smith-Greene who plays D-end for the Pokes said no one on the team could stand the guy. Said he was a total prick at parties and couldn’t lead on the field to save his ass.”
“That’s the guy,” I said as I picked up our three towels and walked them over to the used towels bin. I may have been starting this weekend, and I may have been the same age as my teammates, but I was still a freshman who understood my place in the team’s hierarchy.
“No wonder you were taking it out on the second team today.” Tarvi gave me a love tap across the back of my jeans with his towel. “Don’t worry, dude. We’ll make sure none of them spits in your mashed potatoes at dinner today.”
I shot him a sneer, and he laughed his infectious Tarvarius laugh as the three of us headed out of the locker room to meet our teammates in the gym. Alums and team moms had set up Thanksgiving lunch for us, and in spite of my bad mood, my stomach rumbled at the thought of turkey, dressing, and all the rest.
As we walked the short distance across campus, Callahan asked, “Is your girl coming back for the game, or are you going to be worrying about her all weekend?”
I couldn’t miss the concern in his tone. After the way he’d fucked up in a game earlier this season when things weren’t going well with his girlfriend, I understood what he was truly asking.
“She’s going to be with her family all day today. Tomorrow she’s going shopping and to the Christmas parade with her sisters, then she’s headed up here. She promised to let me know when she’s back.”
“You know you gotta be at the field by ten ready to go, yeah?” he asked.
“Don’t worry.” I grinned. “I’m not fucking up my first start.” Sobering, I said, “Thanks for letting me get all that off my chest. She’s going to be fine from now until I see her again. It just pissed me off that asshole thinks he can harass her whenever she’s home.”
“If he ever shows his face here, we’ll get Bax and Finn to mess him up,” Tarvi said, his eyes dancing.
“Why wouldn’t I do that myself?”
His eyes rolled in his head, then he held up his hands. “Because skill guys have to keep these babies safe. You can’t waste them on messing someone up—even someone who clearly needs it as much as your old teammate.”
The second Callahan opened the door to the gym, the heavenly aromas of roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin spice assailed our senses. Tarvi stopped and cracked us up as he closed his eyes and went up on his toes to breathe in the richly scented air. Any second he’d lift off like some old-timey cartoon character and float away on the smells wafting into the foyer from the gym floor.
As a group of linemen stepped through the doors behind us, we didn’t waste any time hustling to where we’d find the food. When we walked into the gym proper, we saw rows of tables starting to fill with teammates who’d showered and dressed a hell of a lot faster than we had. Along one outside wall, serving tables stretched for half the length of the floor. People behind them were joking and laughing with the players who lined the serving side as they loaded plates with all manner of mouthwatering Thanksgiving treats.
“Whatever you do, do not miss Fitzy’s mom’s turkey,” Tarvi said over his shoulder as he led us into the line. “Best damn turkey you’ll ever eat.” To punctuate the point, he smacked his full lips while rubbing his washboard belly.
Behind me Callahan chuckled and added, “Tarvi’s not wrong. Make sure to get some of Mama Fitzgerald’s deep-fried turkey.”
With a sage nod I said, “The two of you will make sure I know which of the women serving us is Fitz’s mom, right?”
“You’ll know,” Callahan said.
When it was our turn to grab plates and utensils, I hid my shock that we’d be eating off platters. Then my stomach rolled in on itself, and I decided a platter rather than a plate might be exactly the right size for dinner.
Tarvi turned to me and nodded to a tall, square-built Black lady about three turkeys down from the start of the food. She laughed at something one of the players in front of her said, and I couldn’t miss the resemblance to her son.
“Fitz’s mom?”
“Oh yeah.” He went up on his toes again to check out the serving dishes in front of her. “I think someone must have told the freshmen about her bird. Good thing we didn’t waste time getting over here.”
To be polite, I took a slice of turkey from the alums handing them out as we shuffled along to the prize. When we reached Mrs.Fitzgerald, her face lit up.
“There you are, Tarvarius! You’d better have some of this.”
She forked at least three slabs of turkey onto Tarvi’s platter, and he grinned back at her. “I look forward to this every year, Mrs.Fitz. Best damn bird in the world.”
She beamed at him again then her gaze slid to me. “I don’t believe I’ve met you, young man.”
“Danny Chambers. These guys”—I nodded to Tarvi and Callahan—“have been singing your praises for weeks because of your food.” My stomach chose that moment to rumble again—loudly. Laughing, I said, “Been looking forward to meeting you for a while.”
“Are you one of our transfer players?” she asked.
“No, ma’am. I’m a freshman.” When her eyes widened, I hastily added, “Nontraditional. I did four years in the Air Force before walking onto the team.”
“You’re a veteran? Bless you, boy. Thank you for your service.” She piled at least four slabs of bird onto my platter. “Nice to meet you.”
“Thank you. Nice to meet you too.”
The woman had an air of warmth and authority—something she’d passed on to her son. After meeting his mom, it was easy to see where Fitz’s confidence came from. Their resemblance went beyond looks.
After we filled our platters with all the trimmings, we found a spot at a table with Mick Patterson and Dallas Cousins. Though our coaches encouraged players from both sides of the line and special teams to live together, we still often gravitated to guys who played on our side of the ball. Mick was saying something about what he’d seen of our opponents’ nose tackle on film while Dally merely nodded and gave the occasional grunt of acknowledgment as he shoveled food into his mouth.
“I was telling Dally we have to watch their front three. Usually, we handle a three-four defense just fine, but their nose tackle is a one-man wrecking crew.” He ducked his head, his eyes darting to each of us. “I’d rather not get wrecked, at least not until the last play of the championship game.” Then he grinned and shoveled a forkful of cheesy broccoli into his mouth.
“No worries, Patty. Ain’t no candy-ass Southern boy gonna roll over me to get to you.” Catching my eye, Dally winked. “After what went down in practice today, they’re gonna have some trouble with our new starter too, I think.” He reached his massive fist across the table for me to bump before turning his attention to Tarvi. “Now you got two guys who can take the pressure off you or open holes like doors in their linebacking corps—let you see nothing but daylight after Patty hands you the rock.”
With those pronouncements, Dally returned to shoving mashed potatoes and gravy into his mouth as if they were trying to escape his plate.
Tarvi let loose a signature Tarvi grin. “Any of you give me even a sliver of daylight, and Katie bar the door, ’cause I’m gonna take advantage and run all the way to the promised land.”
“Amen,” Patty said with a smirk at the same time as Callahan matched him with, “Hallelujah!”
I chuckled at all their nonsense. Having dreaded yet another holiday dinner with a bunch of guys in a mess hall, surprisingly, I was enjoying myself. Then I cut into Mrs.Fitzgerald’s famed deep-fried turkey, and my eyes rolled back in my head. While I lived for Mrs.Hamilton’s food, the guys were right about Fitzy’s mom’s turkey. Absolutely the most succulent slice of bird that had ever crossed my lips. When I moaned, each of my buddies at the table burst out laughing.
“Guess you tried a bite of the best Thanksgiving turkey ever cooked,” Callahan said with a grin.
“ Fuuuck , you guys. This shit’s to die for.” My knife cut through a slice of bird like shearing a thin piece of paper. Closing my eyes, I savored another bite and heard the click of someone’s phone.
Blinking my eyes open, I stared at Tarvi, who had his phone up for another shot.
“What the fuck? Is that for your food-porn spank bank?” I asked.
His eyes danced. “You wish.” He pocketed his phone and picked up his utensils, cutting into his own slices of delectable poultry. “Just sent it to Mrs.Fitz. She’ll appreciate how much you love her food.”
Staring down at the mound of potatoes, dressing, and vegetables on my plate, I contemplated what I could skip before getting back in line for more deep-fried heaven.
As though he’d read my mind, Callahan said, “Enjoy what you have, Danny-boy, ’cause when those boys get to her station, there won’t even be slivers of bird left.” He nodded in the direction of the food tables where Fitz, Bax, and Finn were all standing in front of Mrs.Fitzgerald.
“You mean you don’t even get leftovers?” I asked Tarvi. “She doesn’t set a little back for Fitz and his roommates—maybe enough to share with select teammates who know how to block?” I added, waggling my brows.
Putting his hand up to his ear, Tarvi said, “You hear that? Nothing but silverware scraping plates. Don’t expect leftovers from this bunch of hyenas.” Gesturing toward my plate with his knife, he added, “Better eat up before one of us gets bold and steals a slice off your plate since she gave you extra.”
Catching the other three guys at our table eyeing my plate, I heeded Tarvi’s warning and went to work on what I had in front of me. Even with trying to slow down and savor the excellent meal the alums and the moms had cooked for us, the mountain of green beans, broccoli, dressing, sweet potato pie, mashed potatoes, and turkey disappeared almost in a blink. The only thing I’d skipped was the cranberry sauce, because seriously, whose idea was it to ruin a perfectly good fruit by sticking it into a gelatinous sauce?
As a unit we rose from the table to stack our plates in a rolling cart set up near the doors behind the bleachers. Then we stepped in line for dessert. Once again we were offered generously sized plates to hold the assortment of pies that had replaced the main course on the long serving tables. I asked for a slice each of pumpkin, pecan, and apple pie and said, “yes, please!” to the massive dollops of whipped cream one of the alums dropped onto each slice.
When most of the team were reseated with their desserts, Coach Ellis stood and cleared his throat.
The man was kind of incredible. Over the course of the season, I’d probably heard him raise his voice fewer than ten times total. He didn’t have to. His authority carried in the gravity of his convictions, which came through loud and clear when he spoke in a normal conversational tone. The second he stood from his chair, ripples of silence like rings in a still pond floated through the assembled players and staff. When he cleared his throat, the last of those ripples hit the back of the room, and all was silent and still.
“We met our goal of winning the season. But that was only the first half. Now it’s time to leave the locker room on fire for the second half where every down counts. If we want to reach the pinnacle of our game”—he stared down each table of players on one side of the room—“which we do”—he stared down each table of players on the other side of the room—“not one man among us can take even one down off.” Pausing, he let that sink in.
“Today, for the most part, we are away from our families.” Looking over to where the moms of some of the players stood at the serving tables, he said, “With exceptions for which we are forever thankful.” The ghost of a smile flitted over his lips as he caught the eye of his wife who stood beside Mrs.Fitzgerald. “But we’ve built one hell of a family here, and on Saturday, we need to play for it. We need to play for each and every member of this winning Wildcat family. But today I’m thankful for the opportunity to coach men the caliber of those in this room. I’m thankful for an administration and alumni association that puts their full support behind this team every day. And I’m thankful for the staff of coaches who help each of us look good on Saturdays. Go! ’Cats! Go!”
A resounding chorus of “Go! ’Cats! Go!” echoed him. Then everyone in the room stood up and yelled again. “Go! ’Cats! Go!” And one last time. “Go! ’Cats! Go!”
As we all resumed our seats, I looked over at Coach Ellis, catching one of his rare smiles as he listened to something Coach Ainsworth was saying. The camaraderie in the room reminded me of my brothers in arms. Though I’d never been deployed to a hot spot during my enlistment, the possibility was never far from my mind nor the minds of the other people in my unit, which kept us tight-knit. The feeling I had as I ate this holiday meal with my teammates closely matched my Air Force experience.
Growing up with the captain, I’d never had much sense of family. I’d found a little of it in the service. I was finding more of it on this team. But what I yearned for was what I saw whenever I had the privilege of spending time at the Hamiltons’. Though Thanksgiving Day with the Wildcats had exceeded expectations, I still missed the good-natured teasing Mr.Hamilton subjected his girls to, the way they gave it back to him, Mr.Hamilton’s parents siding with their granddaughters, and Mrs.Hamilton’s indulgent pleasure in all their antics. The cutthroat card games and board games that followed the meal were as much of a highlight as the food, which far surpassed anything I’d ever had in an Air Force mess hall, even when I sat with the captain at the officers’ table. Of course, after enjoying Mrs.Fitzgerald’s deep-fried turkey, I had to amend the best meal category—not that I’d ever admit to it in front of my girl.
Thinking of Taryn had me discreetly pulling my phone from my pocket and shooting off a quick text. Catching Dally eyeing what was left of my apple pie, I pulled my plate closer and finished it off.
A few minutes later, a mass of Wildcats strolled back to the facility to kick back in our comfy chairs to watch the pros many of us aspired to be as they battled each other for the country’s holiday entertainment.
By the time we’d sat down to watch the games, the late-morning contest had already concluded, and the afternoon showdown between my beloved Broncos and the Cowboys was already in the second quarter. Having moved up on the depth chart, I now had a chair in the coveted second row. As I settled down in my seat, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Knowing my love for the Broncos, I couldn’t believe T would text me during the game. But I wasn’t about to ignore her until a commercial break either.
Taryn: Happy Thanksgiving! Glad you enjoyed a good spread.
Me: You do know the game is on, right?
Taryn: Yeah. I can’t decide who I want to lose more.
Me: That’s evil, Sweet Pea.
Taryn: DANNY!
A red swearing emoji bookended her text at my use of her family’s nickname for her, and I grinned.
Me: Who’s winning your game?
Taryn: Tina. She cheats.
I sent a laughing emoji followed by:
Me: You’re still on for driving back tomorrow?
Taryn: Will probably get there around eleven. Don’t wait up. You need your game-starter sleep.
Me: Promise you’ll text me as soon as you get to your place.
An eye-roll emoji popped up on my screen.
Taryn: Promise.
For a long minute I pondered my next text. Then under my breath, I said, “Fuck it,” and texted:
Me: Miss you.
The three dots floated in the bottom of my screen, disappeared, and reappeared before she said:
Taryn: Miss you too. See you soon.
That last one put a smile on my face—one Callahan noticed.
“What are you grinning at? Your team is getting their asses handed to them.”
I glanced up at the big screen to see we were down 21—7 at the two-minute warning. With a shrug, I said, “Yeah, but we have the ball and a killer two-minute drill. Bet we cut that to 21—14 when we go into the half.”
“If your quarterback could find a receiver, you might be right. But so far the only thing your offense has going for it is your speedy running back. No doubt their linebackers will be keying on him at the end of this time-out.”
True to Callahan’s prediction, the Broncos stayed with the run game that hadn’t produced much in the way of points for the past thirty minutes. They ended up kicking a field goal before time expired and went into the half down 21—10. Not insurmountable, but not promising considering their play so far.
Coach Ellis took the opportunity to coach us. “What do you suppose their coaching staff are telling them right now?”
Finn piped up with how the Cowboys needed to continue to play disciplined, filling the gaps and stuffing the run game. Taco Hernandez, our safety, pointed out the flaws in the Broncos’ pass rush that had allowed the Cowboys to pick up some massive chunks of yardage. When Coach asked how Taco would address that, he had some solid coverage ideas that Coach Ellis redirected to Coach Ainsworth to consider in his playbook. Callahan couldn’t help but add his two cents about the Broncos’ quarterback play, but he wasn’t wrong.
Every man in the room who wanted a shot at the next level—which was at least half of us—was a student of the game. When I wasn’t kicking my roommates’ asses in COD , we were playing Madden because honestly, none of us could ever get enough of football. But when my roommates had explained how the team celebrated Thanksgiving, I didn’t expect that we’d be coached through an NFL game. Yet I had to admit, I enjoyed it.
I would have enjoyed spending the day with Taryn more.