Chapter 8
“Hey, Dem.” I stroll past her on the sideline as practice is getting started this morning.
We’ve been busy now that camp is officially underway. Meetings in the mornings, then practice, followed by film and playbook study. Although that last bit is mainly just me.
“Twelve,” she says sweetly, tipping her chin in my direction.
I fucking love when she calls me by my number. It does something to me. Sends a burst of electricity down to my damn bones.
Without thinking, I turn on my heel and walk back to her. I can tell that my sudden appearance in front of her is startling by the way she widens her eyes.
“You’re very close to me.” She crosses her arms over her chest as her eyebrows raise.
“I really want to say something in response to that, but I’m going to remain a gentleman.” I offer her a charming smile. “How are you today?”
“Well, apartments are astronomically priced and the book I was reading ended on a cliffhanger. But I love my job and my coffee tasted so good this morning, so who am I to complain?” She exhales, smiling.
“If you need a place to stay—”
“No,” she cuts me off before I can finish, and I can’t help but laugh. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
I nod and raise my hands in front of my chest, taking a step back with a chuckle before glancing up at the sky, noticing bright blue for miles without a cloud in sight.
Fuck, it’s going to be a brutal one today.
“Well, it’s a beautiful day for football.”
“It is.”
“So, I’m thinking our ‘not a date’ date should be soon. We’re both going to be getting busier in a couple weeks, so why don’t we just pencil something in right now?”
She flips through the handful of papers between her fingers and thinks I don’t see her fighting back a smile, but I do. I wish she would quit pretending to be so annoyed with me, it’s becoming obvious she isn’t as annoyed as she wants to seem.
“Your new receivers are all waiting on you.” She dramatically wiggles her pointer finger toward the field.
I see the guys on the sidelines, but Coach isn’t out here yet. I’ve got a few minutes.
“I’m in the middle of a very important conversation, and I give my full, undivided attention to people I’m speaking with. They can wait.”
“Liam,” she says my name with a shake of her head. “You probably say that to all the girls.”
I step closer, just a hair. “Don’t you know by now that I only see you.”
Her throat bobs, and I sense a tiny bit of hesitancy in her body, but she remains still and doesn’t step back.
Her eyes narrow. They look slightly lighter when the sun hits them. “Okay.” She sighs. “You’ll probably be done with camp around three tomorrow afternoon, right? Why don’t we grab coffee then? Sips Coffee House.”
My eyes light up and my body wants to jump up and down, pumping my fist in the air. Every cell feels like it’s raging with electricity at this simple sentence.
“I see you know my schedule,” I reply, trying to play it cool.
“Part of my job description.”
“Fair.” I chuckle, grinning like a teen with a crush. “Tomorrow is perfect. Have a nice day, Dem.”
She playfully brushes the papers in her hand against my arm as I’m backing away. “You too.”
“You’ve got to run that route better!” I shout to Ford after he comes up empty for the second time in a row.
“I’m running it like I always do.”
Placing both hands on my hips, I tilt my face up to the blazing sun. I hear him sigh as he comes up next to me after the play.
“I’ve run this route a dozen times that exact way. Your throw is off.”
I gape in his direction. “My throw is off?”
“You’re hitting me after I’ve already crossed mid-field, man. I’m having to reach back every time. Get it out sooner. Hit me in the chest with it.” He slaps my shoulder and jogs away from me.
Get it out sooner.
I’d like to hit him in the chest with something, all right.
My hands clap together with the ball in between them, feeling the rough exterior of the leather on my palms.
Make sure your timing is right. Every time.
Words my dad would tell me in high school ring in my ears.
I sling the ball again, this time like a bullet the second I drop back and watch as it drills Ford between the numbers on his jersey. His laugh is loud and he shouts excitedly as he slows his pace.
“That’s it, baby.” He points to me with a wide grin.
“I think he liked that one,” Nate says, shaking his head with a smile. And I do the same.
Nate and I walk over to the sidelines where there’s already an assistant standing with an ice-cold soaked sponge ready to wring it out over my neck.
I lean forward, ready to welcome the cold water in this heat.
It’s hot as hell out today. I’m thankful for all the resources our team has available for us, though, when it comes to our safety in this heat.
There’s a cooling trailer on the practice field to help drop our temperature after being out in the heat and humidity all day for practice.
The trailers are set around eighteen degrees—frigid, but something to look forward to after a long day.
Ice benches are used during practice and in game days when needed too.
Plus, good old fashioned ice caps we can just place on our neck or wrap around our head to help bring our temperature down.
The cameras are all around the field, and Demi is on the far end doing an interview with Chase. I try not to stare, but I think that ship has sailed. My eyes always find her.
She’s in simple black jeans with a white T-shirt as she stands on the sidelines holding a mic, forcing Chase to do the one thing he hates. Talk.
I watch her mannerisms. Her facial expressions and her body language.
She’s full of strength and grace today. And it’s fucking beautiful to see.
Although I can’t help but wonder why she’s looking for an apartment now when I thought she had moved in with that intern from Ford’s party. At least that’s what Abby told me.
“Hundred bucks says he comes over here and bitches about being interviewed.” Nate tilts his chin as he sees Chase nonchalantly walking our way.
I bark out a laugh, knowing there’s no way I’m taking that bet.
“At least she’s quick.” Chase runs a hand through his hair as he groans.
“Pay up.” Nate looks at me, extending a hand.
“I knew better than to take that bet.”
Chase looks between the two of us. “What bet?”
“That you’d come over here and immediately complain about being interviewed.”
“That was hardly a complaint. More like a compliment toward Demi,” he replies to Nate. “How about you pay me?”
Ford jogs over to us, wiping his hands on a towel hanging out of his shorts.
“Any chance Coach won’t notice if I just go sit in the cooling trailer early? I’m fucking dying out here.”
“I definitely wouldn’t point it out to him that you were missing,” Nate teases, smiling at Ford.
“Yeah right.” Ford chuckles.
Coach waves us over for a quick huddle post practice as the final drills are wrapping up.
“Gentlemen, we know how important these moments are. Nice day today. We’ve got to challenge one another, keep each other accountable and focused.
Make sure we keep these connections we’re building strong.
” Coach Aarons looks around at the men standing before him.
Not everyone on this practice field will make the fifty-three-man roster.
It’s a tough reality, but part of the business.
“Compete your asses off. Not just amongst one another, but compete with yourself. Make yourself better for your teammates. There’s an old saying, ‘If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.’ We go far on this team.
We work together on this team. There’s not just one guy on this field who is going to do it all for us.
Every one of you needs to be prepared and in shape.
Meet with the trainers, they’re here to help.
Get some rest and we’ll be back at it tomorrow. ”
There’s a collective “yes, sir” among the guys as Coach Aarons nods in my direction and begins to move away from the huddle.
“All right, boys, bring it in,” I say, raising an arm.
“One goal every year, fellas. Bring home the championship. For each other and for the city. Everything we’re doing from now until the end of the season becomes intentional.
We need that mindset on this field so it translates to those sixty minutes every game.
Like Coach said, let’s keep competing our fucking asses off.
Let’s stay committed to one another, to the team.
Yeah? Family on three—one, two, three, family! ”
The huddle breaks apart, and I run a hand through my sweat-soaked hair. The guys start filtering out and walking toward the facility, getting ready to head home for the day.
Except today, I don’t go right home. Because today is a therapy day.
A few years ago, I finally admitted to myself what I think I had been suspecting for a while. I needed an outlet. A place to get some of the things I harbor off my chest. My childhood was anything but a childhood, and as an adult I now see how that affected who I became.
It took the team therapist, Dana, two sessions to tell me the symptoms I was experiencing were depression.
And four sessions for me to break down in her office.
Something I never, ever thought I’d fucking do.
I didn’t realize how lost I was until she created the space for me to talk about everything.
Now, these biweekly appointments are like a damn cleanse for my soul.
I’ve never publicly shared that I go to therapy, but my closest friends and my brother know.
Truthfully, I probably never would have even started if Mia didn’t have me researching a bunch of shit for Nate a few years ago before he started his foundation for mental health.
It’s been cool as hell seeing that small idea of his turn into such a big movement for athletes all over the country.
Summer was the first person I told that I wanted to go talk to someone, and she’s been who I’ve shared the most with since. I’m not entirely sure how, but fiery Summer Kincaid somehow ended up as my ear for a lot of hard days, and I cherish that woman so much for it.
Therapy days always lead to my best night’s rest too. Something about getting all the bullshit off my chest is freeing.
And I’ll definitely need a good night’s rest; I’ve got a big day tomorrow.