Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
STEELE
“Hell of a run,” Maddox says as I pull my helmet off and set it on the bench in front of me.
Coach Hendricks thought it would be a good idea for me to play a few drives today, even though starters don’t see much of the field during the preseason.
Since I’m new to this playbook, he wants to make sure I’m good to go for our first game against Dallas in two weeks.
I’d say he got his answer after I broke for forty-five yards on that last one, scoring my second touchdown in less than ten minutes.
“Thanks,” I reply with a half-grin, running a hand through my sweat-soaked hair. “Not sure I’ll be able to get past first-string defenses quite as easy once the regular season starts, but we’ll see.”
Theo Calloway sidles up next to us. “As someone who’s been on the business end of your truck sticks, I beg to differ. You made me look like an idiot in front of my girl last year.”
I bark a laugh. “Sorry about that, man.”
“It’s all good.” He shrugs. “The important thing is that I never have to play against you again.” I go still for a moment at his words.
He’s talking like he thinks I’ll be here for longer than the term of my contract.
When I signed it, I did so under the pretense that I’d use the year to get my shit together, then when more options opened up, I’d take one.
That’s still the plan, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought of a world where I stayed.
A month ago, I was sure this franchise didn’t have what it took to get to a championship.
I thought they were just a bunch of misfits whose previous teams didn’t believe in them, so they were tossed into the expansion draft in hopes of freeing up some cap space.
Historically, teams that are new to the league take years—sometimes even decades—to find a winning formula, which is why I figured it had to be a fluke that they made their way to the postseason right away.
Their first-year schedule was one of the easiest in the AFC, so it was easy to assume that they had coasted through it.
They barely made it to the Wild Card game before getting knocked out by the Boston Blizzard, who were the defending Super Bowl champs.
Last season, they made it to the playoffs again, but I was convinced it was by sheer luck, because how could a group of guys who were thrown together that way find their groove so quickly? It didn’t make any sense.
Until I got here, now it’s all clear as day.
I was close with my teammates in Miami. We got together for organized team activities—or OTAs, as they’re called—and hung out during the offseason.
We sent texts to check in and visited each other when we were sick or injured.
I was even a groomsman in a handful of their weddings.
But that was nothing compared to what the Renegades have.
Not only do the guys have unique friendships, but their significant others do, as well.
I’ve seen the way they all sit together at our practices, passing Theo’s daughter around and laughing like they’ve known each other their entire lives.
Even Sydney, who knows nothing at all about the game of football, is always right there with them, fitting in perfectly.
The final seconds run off the clock, the Renegades winning over Cincinnati by a score of twenty-one to thirteen.
Everyone did their jobs, and the fans were electric in the stands, despite the fact that this was a preseason game.
I even got a few cheers from them, which felt kind of good.
It seems like they’re slowly warming up to me more each day, mostly thanks to Sydney making me look like I’ve turned over a new leaf.
It’s not even a farce, really. I’m doing everything she tells me to, because one way or another, I’m not going anywhere in this league if I fall back into my old habits of stirring up shit just to get a rise out of people.
We’re on our way down the tunnel when Theo jogs up to me, his cleats echoing against the cement floor under our feet.
“So, my girlfriend and I are having a small gathering at our place tonight. We’ve got a pretty big announcement to make, and we thought it would be cool to get everyone together for it.
Do you want to join? No pressure. We just figured, since you’re still kind of new to Cleveland, you’d maybe want to see more than just your own house and the practice facility. ”
I arch a brow. “Is that your way of telling me I don’t have any friends?”
“Something like that,” he says on a chuckle. “Come on, bro. It’ll be fun. Finley’s making her famous fettuccini Alfredo. And you know what they say. A team that carb loads together, stays together.”
This guy is weird, but he’s really fucking cool, and he’s been nice to me pretty much from day one. I think it’s time to let my guard down a little and try to bond with this team. It certainly can’t hurt, and it may even make us stronger on the field.
I jerk my chin in a tight nod. “Alright.”
A wide grin splits his face, his brows raising as though he’s surprised by my answer. “Nice. I’ll text you the address. Seven o’clock, sharp.”
We enter the locker room, gathering around for Coach Hendricks’ post-game speech, which is fairly quick, considering we played pretty well.
There were a few minor mistakes on both offense and defense, all things he promises to work on this week at practice.
But other than that, it’s all praise and positivity.
By the time I’m showered and dressed, I have about an hour and a half before heading to Theo’s.
I’m glad I wasn’t chosen for any type of post-game media because, even though I performed well out there, I’m sure somebody will say something about my past, and how I’ve treated the fans here in Cleveland.
At the time, I didn’t give a fuck. People would piss me off and I’d engage, creating a distraction for my opponents in the process.
It seemed like a harmless mind game while it was happening, but every time I open social media or turn on the local sports station, I realize that those actions had long-term consequences.
It sucks, but I only have myself to blame…
and I’m the only one who can turn it around.
I’m pulling out of the players’ parking lot when a text notification lights up the screen on my dash.
“New text message from Sydney Grant,” the robotic voice says.
“I heard you’ll be at Theo’s tonight. Wear your black Renegades hoodie with the purple logo.
Jeans are fine. I’ll see you there. Would you like to reply? ”
I want to call her out for being so bossy.
To tell her I’m fully capable of dressing myself.
Every instinct in me wants to defy her, yet for some reason, I never do.
I’ve had more dreams than I’d like to admit about putting her on her knees and punishing her for her sassy attitude and the way she steals control of every situation without even trying.
I’d give anything to have her that way for just one night, bending her to my will until the sun comes up.
I got a small taste of it at the club before she took back over, and I haven’t been able to scrub the fantasy from my mind.
I want more…even though it’s a terrible idea.
“Whatever you say, Mistress.”