9. Peyton
peyton
. . .
H ave you ever felt your life start to slip through your fingers? I’m not talking about dying, but the life you envisioned yourself having? For me, I’ve always dreamed of being Noah’s wife, having his children, and growing old with him. Being by his side while he played football or baseball, loving him until I stopped breathing.
This is how I felt when Noah told me what the Rams did to him, to me…to us, like I was dying. Hurting Noah is the last thing I would ever do. As soon as the words sunk in, I immediately called and told them I wouldn’t be accepting the job. I did so without hesitation. I would never want to jeopardize Noah’s career. There isn’t a job out there that would make me choose them over him. Ever.
And I feel useless and used. I never would’ve thought a team would do something like this to get to Noah, to try and ruin his career, to get his attention. There are better ways, procedures that protect everyone. That’s what really gets me, the fact they started spreading rumors that would surely get him into trouble with the Pioneers, making sure he’d never play for them. I don’t get it.
What also bothers me, tears me up inside, is that the Rams gave me a different outlook on my job situation. They offered me something I love to do, something that I’m good at, only to get to Noah, and it’s made me question everything. Am I good enough to be a sideline reporter? Broadcaster? A wife to Noah? He knows about my insecurities and assures me that nothing will change between us. But I feel like it already has.
He’s gone before I wake up, and home after I’ve gone to bed. I know it’s stupid to think, but I wonder if he’s waiting down on the street for me to turn off the lights before he finally comes home so he can avoid talking to me. He holds me while we’re asleep, but he’s restless. Tossing and turning, thrashing about while he dreams. All I want is for him to tell me what’s going on, how he’s feeling. Yell at me for being stupid, even though it wasn’t my fault. I just want him to be present, to come back to me, and I know that I can’t wait for that to happen. I need to take this head-on. We’re getting married in a few months and I don’t want to wonder if my groom’s ready or not as I walk down the aisle.
The ride over to the practice facility takes longer than I planned. We’re stuck in traffic and I fear I’m going to miss practice. When we reach the source of the jam, my stomach twists and turns. There’s an accident. A mangled car is being loaded onto the back of a tow truck, and there’s glass everywhere. The only people at the scene are the clean-up crew and probably the investigator. I’ve often wondered what the scene of my accident looked like. I could look pictures up on the web, go back to the police department and see the photos, but I’m not sure I could handle it.
My nerves were already on edge, but now they’re frayed. I should’ve asked Noah if it were okay for me to come and watch him today. This year the Pioneers are holding a mini-camp before training camp officially starts in the middle of July. The popularity of the team is such that the marketing group is trying to make the team more accessible to the younger crowd. Last year, the stands at the practice facility were so jam-packed with people, that some complained. The owners didn’t like that much and asked the players what they thought about doing something for the fans. From what I understand, mostly everyone was on board.
The camp is open to everyone, and the public’s encouraged to attend. For some, this is their only chance to see their favorite players since ticket prices are outrageous, and the Pioneers tend to sell-out, especially when the more popular teams come to town. Often, in between sessions, the players will sign autographs and pose for photos. The fans love it. Noah once said that this is the way he builds his fan base. It doesn’t matter how tired or sore he is, he won’t pass up the opportunity to pose, especially if the fan is younger.
The Players Association limits what the guys can do though. The rules are strict, with the big one being no contact. Still, the defensive line likes to tease Noah that they’re coming after him.
By the time the car service pulls into the parking lot, I’m second-guessing everything and wondering if I should go home and wait. Wait for what, though, I don’t know. He won’t be home until late and waiting up for him has proved futile in the past. If I’m asleep on the couch, he’ll carry me to bed, and for some reason, I’m so exhausted I never wake-up.
I feel like I’m about to heave my breakfast and lunch. It’s stupid really considering the only thing I’m doing is going to watch my fiancé throw the football around. And talk to him. I’m going to force him to speak to me, whether he likes it or not. I have to know where his head is. I must know that we’re on the same page.
There are a few familiar faces passing by as I walk toward the field, which puts me at ease. I don’t know of any other wives or girlfriends attending the mini-camp, so I’m pleased to see I’m not the only one who ventured out today.
“Peyton!” I look for the voice calling my name and smile at Alex Moore’s girlfriend, Maggie. They’ve been together for a little over a year and seem to be doing well. I go over to her, she takes my hands and squeezes them. “How are the wedding plans coming?”
“Good,” I tell her as I sit down. “Everything is coming along swimmingly.” Minus the fact that I fear my fiancé doesn’t want to get married anymore and I don’t have a dress or chosen my bridesmaids. But who’s really keeping track?
“Alex was surprised that Noah asked him to be in the wedding.”
I look at her quickly before turning my attention back to the field. I can’t let her know that I had no idea Noah did that. It would make sense though. Alex and Noah have been friends for a long time, and I suspected he wants Alex to be there. “Does Alex look good in brown?” I ask her.
Maggie’s eyes go wide. “Not going the traditional route?”
“There’s nothing traditional about Noah and me. Besides, all the men in our lives have to wear tuxes a lot. Our dads for the events they go to, the team for the galas. I wanted to give them a reprieve.”
She bumps her shoulder with mine. “That’s very nice of you, and they’ll appreciate it. What about you. Have you picked your dress? Colors?”
Shaking my head slightly, I scan the field for Noah. When I spot him, my heart begins to race. He’s on the far sideline, his hands are clutching his jersey, and he’s speaking to his offensive coordinator.
“Peyton?”
I startle and smile. “Sorry, I got lost in thought.” More like lost in a vision. “I haven’t found a dress yet. My sister is pestering me to go on Say Yes To The Dress, but I’m not sure that’s my thing. We live such public lives that I’d like our wedding to be somewhat private.”
“That makes a ton of sense. If I can help, let me know.”
“Thank you, Maggie.”
When I first met her, I felt sorry for her. Here she was, a children’s museum director, thrust into the spotlight without any warning. Alex had invited her to dinner. Told her to wear something fancy. The big oaf didn’t tell her that he was taking her to the annual hospital fundraiser and that she’d be mobbed by cameras the moment she stepped out of the car. She shook with nerves all night at dinner and I did my best to ease her, but she still had the look of a deer caught in headlights, waiting for impact. Luckily for Alex, she agreed to a second date. This time, it was much more low-key, with Noah and me.
Noah takes the field, effectively cutting off any conversation between Maggie and myself. Of course, where Noah is, Alex is as well. The two are never far from each other. Alex protects Noah, it’s his job, and while any practice prohibits the defense from touching Noah, Alex still takes his job very seriously.
The whistle blows and my quarterback takes center, looks to his left and then right while calling his cadence. I can barely hear him over the crowd, mostly young children screaming Noah’s name. The pat on Alex’s thigh is subtle, but I notice, and that’s when I see the hesitation in Noah’s hands, followed by three steps back. Not his usual five. He fires a pass across the center of the field, hitting cornerback Cameron Simmons right in the chest. The spiral is perfect. The crowd cheers. I look at Noah, waiting for his reaction. There’s nothing. He’s not rushing to the line of scrimmage even though there’s under two minutes left and according to the clock, he’s losing. It’s not real, at least the score isn’t. But that doesn’t negate that Noah should be taking this seriously. Practice is practice, everyone needs it.
He finally gets back to the line of scrimmage. Everything repeats except the route changed. This time, he hands off to Terry Price, a seasoned running back and offseason acquisition. Price weaves through the line, bringing in almost twenty yards. The defensive coordinator is losing his shit on the sideline. It’s funny, at least for the time being. For this being a mini-camp, the staff is certainly invested.
Three more plays later and Noah throws the ball to Julius Cunningham for a touchdown. There’s no pomp or circumstance with this, but it’s still an achievement of sorts. Noah heads to the sideline and the rookie quarterback takes over. I would think being a camp for the fans, Noah would play the entire time. My heart plummets, thinking that Noah’s playing time is being affected by the bullshit with the Rams.
Noah sits on the bench and hangs his head, letting his helmet dangle from his fingers. I’m confused by this. His set was good, it resulted in a touchdown.
Against my better judgment, I head over to the other side of the field and stand behind him. “What’s your problem, Westbury?” I yell rather loudly to get his attention. He turns. At first, his expression is one of anger, almost as if he’s pissed someone asked him this question. When his eyes settle on me, I give him a little wave and he comes right over. The jitters I was experiencing before I arrived are back, tenfold. I don’t know what he’s going to say or how he’s going to react to me being here.
I get my answer as soon as he reaches me. He slides his hands through the railings and pulls me as close as he can to him. I wish I had just walked onto the field. I’m allowed but didn’t know how he’d feel about it.
“What’s wrong, Noah?” I ask, leaning down to whisper in his ear.
He shakes his head, pushing deeper into my stomach. “Nothing feels right.”
I hold him as best as I can. I did this to him. Well, not me, but the Rams. They were underhanded and put him in a bad spot with the team and the owners. Noah would never do anything to jeopardize his spot on the team. My accident notwithstanding.
“It’s only a mini-camp,” I remind him.
“That doesn’t matter. Not this year.”
He’s right, it doesn’t. This is on me, my fault. Not purposefully, but still. And I have to do what I can to fix this mess. “How can I help?”
He looks at me, and I’m tempted to lean over and give him a kiss. I miss the way his lips feel against mine. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong. Yell at me. I’m afraid I’m going to lose my starting job to…” Noah turns quiet. He doesn’t have to say it. I nod and run my finger through his damp hair, not caring about the sweat.
I love that he takes his job so seriously. “I got you, Westbury.” I wink, and he lets go of me. Instead of sitting down, I stay at the railing, giving me a better angle. He takes the field. I focus on him, not the play, not the team, just Noah. Again, I notice that his hands are hesitant, almost as if he’s unsure of the play he’s running. My first thought is he has a concussion and hasn’t told anyone. And then I watch his feet. It’s a different play from before. Three steps, not five. Last year, every play he ran, he took those extra two steps.
“Five steps,” I mumble to myself. “It’s always five. Why change it?”
“Because the new offensive coordinator thinks Noah’s more powerful off three.”
The general manager of the Pioneers leans on the railing next to me. He’s watching the play unfold on the field, while I study him. Weeks ago, he wanted to fire my guy, all because of a nasty rumor.
“Noah’s always done five,” I point out. “He’s been successful with that rhythm.”
He shrugs. “Coaches feel otherwise.”
“I see.” I bite my tongue on what I really want to say. The last thing I want to do is put Noah in any more hot water. I turn and take a seat on the first bleacher and slouch a bit, so I can still watch. The GM follows, making me feel uneasy.
He sits down and sighs. “The Rams are fools.”
I smile but say nothing.
“They thought by luring you, they’d lure him. What they didn’t count on, was his loyalty.”
“Noah’s very loyal.”
“And you’re right about him.” He points to Noah.
“I’m sorry.”
“Look, Ms. James. We can’t offer you what the Rams threw at you, but we can offer you a job. Same position, player analysis.”
“Why?” I ask.
This time he points to the offensive coordinator. “Alton Rennie.”
“I’m sorry, but the name doesn’t ring a bell, other than him working for the Pioneers.”
“He’s good friends with Nick Ashford, who speaks very highly of you. When everything happened with the Rams, he said we’d be stupid not to offer you something. He loves Noah and wants to keep him. We do as well. Hell, we want the both of you. We know what you’ve done for him, Alex and Julius.” This man, the one who can ruin Noah’s career, looks at me.
“And if Noah wasn’t my fiancé?”
He nods toward Rennie again. “Wouldn’t make any difference. He wants you. Says you’ll be an asset. I imagine once word spreads about the Rams, we would’ve followed suit anyway. We’d be stupid not too. As will other teams that will seek you out. Think about it, Ms. James, and let me know.” He walks away, leaving the offer to work for the Pioneers in mid-air, and leaving me with another major decision.