Chapter 11
Five days later, in Philadelphia for a Sunday afternoon game, Sterling pulled Nate over at the end of warmups.
“He good?” Sterling asked.
Nate wished he didn’t know who he was. Wished he could pretend ignorance.
But there was an intensity in Sterling’s dark brown eyes that told Nate that he wouldn’t find the joke particularly funny.
Still, Jordan always seemed fine, at least up until things went sideways.
“Sure,” Nate said.
Sterling frowned. “Bishop, you know we can’t let him get out of control.”
Oh, he knew. It was annoying that Sterling was now chastising him like this was his first fucking professional game.
“I got it,” Nate said testily.
“I checked in with him last night, after the walk-through. Wanted to make sure that after that incident at practice this week there isn’t going to be any more bullshit.”
Nate wished Sterling hadn’t done that.
He’d kept an eye out for Jordan this morning, the way he always did. Thought he’d been perhaps a bit quieter than normal. Withdrawn. Not laughing with the other guys the way he usually did before a game to stay loose.
He hadn’t seen enough to be worried, necessarily, but now that observation coupled with Sterling’s admission made something unsettled spike in his stomach.
“What did he say?” Nate asked.
He’d been annoyed since the first time Sterling had asked him to keep an eye out for the guy.
But the more he got to know Jordan, the more he’d realized that Sterling would’ve been the worst choice.
Nate didn’t know if he was a good choice, necessarily, but he had to be better.
There was something about Sterling—his stern, overly serious demeanor or the authority that he wore like a cape?
—that seemed to set Jordan on edge even more.
“He said he was fine.” Sterling didn’t look all that happy about it though. Clearly, it had not been a particularly productive conversation.
Nate internally sighed, eyes already scanning the sideline, because he was going to have to make time in the next five minutes to check in with Jordan and somehow defuse the bomb that Sterling had inadvertently set.
“Yeah, he can be full of it when that’s the answer,” Nate agreed.
“Well, watch out for him,” Sterling warned, like he hadn’t just created an additional problem that Nate was now going to have to fix.
“Will do,” Nate said, between gritted teeth.
He spotted Jordan over by the bench and headed over the moment Sterling gave him a dismissive nod.
“Feeling good?” Nate asked, as he approached where Jordan had both hands braced on the back of the bench. He looked like he was stretching his calves.
He’d learned, through plenty of mistakes, not to ask Jordan if he was okay.
Asking Jordan if he was okay only made Jordan assume that Nate thought he was not okay and always made him additionally prickly. A lesson that Sterling had unfortunately not learned yet.
“Yeah,” Jordan said.
Nate wasn’t sure what else to say, because he couldn’t talk to the guy if he didn’t let him in, but then Jordan added, “I wish you’d tell Sterling to mind his own fucking business.”
“You could always do that,” Nate suggested.
But Jordan just laughed. “Yeah, right,” he said, but at least he sounded a little lighter than he had a moment ago. He was smiling now. Not quite to the normal level of bullshit joking he’d do with the guys before a game, but close.
A total fucking win and Nate would take it.
“You could,” Nate joked. “You could also walk barefoot over some glass. I wouldn’t exactly recommend it.”
“That’s why you should tell him,” Jordan said.
Nate just rolled his eyes, though. “I think you’re overestimating the difference between how Sterling feels about you and how he feels about me.”
“Dude, no,” Jordan said, and his voice was more serious than Nate had anticipated. “He respects you so much. You’re like, in his good books forever.”
Nate wasn’t sure that was true, but he was more than a little pleased Jordan actually seemed to think so.
“Well, thanks,” Nate said, shrugging. “But I’m still not bailing your ass out if he wants it in a sling. So keep that in mind, okay?”
Jordan just went back to his stretches. “Dude, I got this. Don’t need to worry about me. Not at all.”
Nate hoped so. He really fucking hoped so.
The game began, and Nate took his spot on the defensive front four, hyperaware in a way he normally wasn’t of Jordan’s position behind him.
Obviously, he’d been keeping an eye on the rookie since the beginning of the season, but during a game, Sterling in his free safety spot had a much better vantage point to make sure Jordan was in position and taking care of his responsibilities.
But on the first snap, the right tackle locked Nate up, catching him off guard when he tried a move Nate hadn’t anticipated from the film he’d watched, and Saquon broke free from defensive containment, cutting quick and hitting open space.
Nate finally shucked the tackle and pivoted, to try to reach the play.
Goddamn it, Barkley was fucking fast. He was already ten yards down field and Nate wasn’t fast enough to catch him—though that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.
Still, Nate’s stomach sank because while Jordan was currently closing the gap between him and Barkley with the burst of speed that had set him apart from the rest of last year’s linebacker draft class, he’d clearly not been in a position to stop him right away.
Shit.
He did track him down, Nate reaching the pile about a second too late. Jordan popped up from tackling Barkley to the ground. He didn’t meet Nate’s eyes, and worry pinged deep down in Nate’s gut.
That had been easily a twenty-five-yard gash for Barkley.
Not the way they’d wanted to start the game, that was for sure.
Nate had lost count of the number of defensive meetings he’d been part of this week where they’d planned everything around the central plan of don’t let Barkley beat you on the ground.
Well, so far that was not working.
Sterling caught Nate’s arm before they got reset for the next play. “Atkinson was out of position,” he said under his breath.
“Yeah,” Nate agreed.
“I gotta talk to him.”
“He’ll adjust,” Nate said. Jordan could be stupid about a lot of things. But Nate had seen the high football IQ that he possessed. He’d eventually be able to run the defense, if he could get out of his own goddamn way.
But that was always the trouble, wasn’t it?
Sterling didn’t look convinced though. “If he doesn’t, I’ll talk to him,” he said.
Nate didn’t think that was a good idea, but he also wasn’t willing to correct Sterling mid-game.
Besides, he didn’t think he’d have to. Jordan would adjust. He’d been playing well this year, if a little erratically.
But that was to be expected for a rookie.
He was still learning the ropes of the NFL.
Nobody was ever perfect and definitely not during their first season.
Sure enough, on the next play, the Eagles handed the ball off to Barkley again—it was what Nate would have done, if he was in charge of the offense, considering the Thunder had just given up a big run play—and it was better, but still nearly a ten-yard gain.
This time, Nate shucked the right tackle off better, adjusting for the new move the guy tried, and he was actually the one who caught Barkley, tackling him to the turf.
Sterling’s hand was the one Nate grabbed to help lift himself up.
“I’m gonna,” Sterling said, but Nate shook his head.
Yeah, Jordan should’ve been there. He definitely should have been in a better position than Nate to make the tackle.
“Let me,” Nate said.
Sterling shot him a look.
“Just . . .I think it’ll go over better coming from me,” Nate said.
Sterling’s expression was still full of doubt, but he nodded.
There wasn’t time for Nate to say anything, because the Eagles were already getting set, and it didn’t matter anyway, because Hurts dropped back.
But before he could throw the ball, Duke was on his other side, eluding the tight end that was trying to block him, and a second later, Hurts was on the ground.
The Eagles bounced back the next play and got the first down.
But then, between a dropped pass and Nate finally getting the better of the right tackle, tackling Barkley for a loss in the backfield, it was third down.
The Eagles were just inside their field goal range, and Nate was determined that they wouldn’t get the first down. They’d stop them here.
He realized a second too late, as he set his position, that the only coverage that AJ Brown had was Jordan. A really fucking fast receiver to only have a linebacker on him, even a linebacker as quick as Jordan was.
Nate huffed out a breath and tensed his muscles, waiting for the snap count.
He didn’t bother saying a prayer. God wasn’t going to do shit about this. This game came down to man versus man, and if Jordan couldn’t handle it, well, as sucky as it would be to find out, the Thunder should know if he needed more help than he was getting.
Maybe he wasn’t ready to start yet.
The center snapped the ball and Nate pushed off, driving with the strength in his legs and his stomach, pushing back on the right tackle.
He got a glimpse out of the corner of his eye as Brown took off, running a route designed to get the first down.
Nate finally got around the tackle, but Hurts threw the ball a second before he got there, right in the direction of Brown.
Fuck.
But to Nate’s shock, Jordan kept up with Brown, at least enough to leap up and at the very last second, bat the football away.
It was a dynamite play, made even better by the fact that Jordan wasn’t a corner, designed to defend passes one-on-one with the league’s best receivers, but a linebacker.
After the team gathered around Jordan, celebrating his defensive stop, Sterling broke away and caught Nate’s eye as they jogged back towards the sideline.