Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Rome
T he first week of practice is abnormally brutal. We spend the first day going over plays and drills. On the second day, we’re on the field putting those plays into action. Today is our third day, and Coach Bradson is in a rare mood. And by that, I mean he’s annoyed and cranky. So, instead of running plays inside since the weather is atrocious today, we’re running laps up and down the field.
I pump my arms to push myself to finish this final lap, and my eyes burn as sweat and dirt fill my vision. My tank top clings to my body, and my shorts are drenched as I begin to sweat in places I didn’t think were humanly possible.
“Move your ass, Carter!” Bradson shouts from the sideline.
I want to shout back and yell at him to pick on someone else, but there’s a reason he’s singling me out. He knows I’m one of his top players and wants me to be the best.
Pushing myself harder, I pass Malik and Levi. They curse as they try to overtake me, but I’m too fast.
I nearly stumble across the end zone. My knees buckle when I come to a halt, and I gasp for air that doesn’t satisfy my hunger for oxygen.
“That’s how you do it!” Bradson claps as more guys collapse into the end zone.
Grabbing a bottle of scorching hot water, I down it without a care in the world.
“Keep that up, Carter, and you’ll find yourself a first-round pick.” Coach pats my back as I double over.
I give him a thumbs-up before wiping the sweat from my brow.
“All right, go shower and get changed. Meet me in the conference room in twenty minutes.”
The field fills with groans and mumbles.
“What did we get ourselves into this time?” Levi whispers to me.
Standing upright, I scan the field to try and gauge the situation.
“Only one way to find out.”
Washing off the grime was more than satisfying. I don’t normally take cold showers, but today, I required one. I have to keep reminding the guys to hydrate. The last thing anyone needs is to succumb to heat stroke and dehydration.
Malik is the captain, but he doesn’t take his responsibility as seriously as he should. I don’t think he minds that I’ve stepped in to boost the team or assist the new players. I just wish he would show the team that he cares. A simple “Hey, did you drink water today?” goes a long way.
As I walk out of the locker room, I sigh when the frigid air envelopes me. I stroll across the hall and enter the conference room. Sitting near the back, I spin around in the office chair and savor my water.
“Whatcha do this time, Rome?” Malik asks as he plops down next to me.
“Shouldn’t you be up front?” I ask with a bit of bite in my tone.
“Nah, Coach can handle this.”
He knows what’s about to happen, and he’s relishing it. He wants me to ask so he can withhold the information. I won’t fall into his trap, though. Coach Bradson will soon tell us what’s going on.
“All right, let’s get this over with.” Bradson strolls into the room.
His gray hair is neatly trimmed, his eyes are dark, and while his features are stiff and stern, he is someone you can trust and go to about anything. Coach used to play for the Philadelphia Eagles, the same team I’ve had my eyes on since high school. After retiring from the field, he came to Castle Brook and has led this team to multiple playoffs and bowl games. I’ve been to a couple myself. We just haven’t won one.
“I’m not going to go on about mental health and the rising depression statistics in men.”
Multiple guys start to chuckle, which only makes Bradson more irritated.
“Silence! This is serious. Life is cruel, and I’m willing to bet that more than half of you in this room have felt some form of anxiety or depression at one point in your lives.”
The room falls silent again. We’re all itching to know what he’ll tell us next.
“The head of the Psychology Department and I are joining forces this year. She has a mentorship program, and I volunteered the team to participate. There are seventy of you here, and she has seventy participating seniors who will treat you like guinea pigs. They will evaluate your psyche and help you discover ways to cope with anxiety, burnout, and depression. You will be respectful and take this opportunity seriously.”
“What if we don’t want our brains poked and prodded?” a senior-level player asks.
“If you don’t want to help yourselves with this opportunity, I’ll simply bench you and let one of the freshman players take your position. How does that sound, Everson?” The coach isn’t putting up with anyone’s bullshit.
Malik chuckles quietly beside me, and I glare over at him. “Isn’t that blonde from the pool party a psych major?”
Fuck, he’s right. Not only is she a psychology major, but she’s also good at what she does. In one conversation, I almost spilled all my secrets to her. I wanted to share my past because she made me feel safe. I could tell she cared, and I knew she wouldn’t have judged me if I told her. Even after the moment in the bathroom, I still find myself drawn to her. I’ve been going to Ash’s almost every day, hoping to run into her. But every time she’s there, we’ve avoided one another. And as much as it hurts, I know right now it’s necessary.
“She is. Why does that matter?” I ask, noting the grit in my tone.
Stretching his arms out and sighing, he smirks at me. “If I see her, I’m making it my personal mission to partner up with her. You had fun. Now it’s my turn.”
“Now, get the fuck out of here and drink some water. I’ll see everyone here tomorrow for the meet and greet,” Coach states.
As everyone starts to stand, Malik firmly squeezes my shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Carter.”
My fingernails dig into my palm. If Malik thinks he’ll breathe the same air as Chrissy, he’s wrong. I’ll do everything possible to ensure she doesn’t get paired with him. Even if it means I’m the one she ends up evaluating.