Chapter 4
NATE
Madden night at Jax’s house was always the same. Coffee table covered with pizza boxes, wings coated in way too much buffalo sauce, and Jax aggressively clicking the buttons on his controller, as if that could somehow stop me from scoring.
I was up by six points when he slammed his Xbox controller into the couch like a toddler having a temper tantrum.
“That’s fucking bullshit,” he said, pointing at the screen. “I swear to God, the game is rigged.”
I didn’t even glance up. “You say that about every game.”
The guy could handle defenders twice his size, but apparently, Madden NFL 26 took him out.
“Because this game is trash,” Jax muttered as the game glowed across his giant TV while the three of us were spread out on his sectional.
Jax was a grown-ass man who had the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was a professional athlete with millions in the bank.
Ryder pointed at the screen. “Dude, you ran the same play three times in a row. What did you expect?”
“I was hoping the third time would be the charm,” he grumbled, leaning back dramatically.
I snorted. “Clearly, it wasn’t.”
He reached for his beer. “I hate playing with you. And you don’t need to draft yourself every damn time you play.”
I rolled my eyes. “All you do is whine when you lose.”
I swear, the guy had multiple personalities. Normally, he was all golden retriever energy until the second something stopped going his way; then he became a big pain in the ass.
He kicked his feet up on his overpriced coffee table. “Pretty easy to say that when you win every game. Now I know why no one likes quarterbacks. You are too fucking cocky.”
Ryder laughed from the other side of the couch. “Okay, guys. Time out for a minute. I need some advice,” he said, pulling out his phone. “I matched with this girl.”
Jax and I both groaned. Ryder was a good guy, but he wanted the type of relationship people wrote songs about. He thought every girl he swiped right on had potential.
“Anyway,” he ignored us, “this one feels different.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That’s what you say about all of them.”
Ryder literally fell hard and fast. Usually, before common sense had a chance to kick in. It didn’t matter if it was a bartender, a nanny, or a girl he met on a dating app. The man loved women and got attached way too easily.
He shook his head, turning toward me. “I’m serious.”
“What happened with the dog groomer you hooked up with last week?”
He went quiet for a second, which wasn’t a good sign.
“She’s not looking for a relationship.”
I leaned forward, gentling my tone. “You gotta stop treating every woman like she’s your future wife. Slow down a bit. If it happens, it happens.”
He looked directly at me. “At least I’m trying to find someone.”
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ryder pointed his beer bottle at me. “You’re going to be grumpy and alone forever.”
Jax let out a laugh, while I stared both of them down.
“I’m not grumpy. I’m just not in a rush to find anyone.”
It wasn’t that I wanted to be single forever. I spent years thinking I had found someone, only to find out how wrong I was.
“Pretty sure you actually had to leave your house every once in a while to find someone.” Jax smirked, reaching for a slice of pepperoni pizza.
Apparently, choosing sleep over going out and making bad decisions meant there was something wrong with me.
I used to stay out and have fun. I’ve done reckless.
I’ve done stupid. I also learned what happened if I didn’t set limits for myself.
I was at a point in my life where I needed sleep.
My future was on the line. I had to be careful.
It wasn’t just about me trying to stay relevant or my pride.
It was me acknowledging that I was one hit away from a career-ending injury.
“What about you, Jax?” Ryder asked, setting his drink on a coaster.
Jax took a bite of his pizza and lifted his shoulder. “I’m not worried about it. I don’t want to date somebody just because I’m bored. When I meet a woman worth the headache, I’ll deal with it.”
With an attitude like that, it was no surprise he was still single.
“Maybe your mom and aunt Joan can find you a date for Cole’s wedding,” I suggested, even though I knew it would piss him off.
Jax’s brother was getting married next spring. Which meant he had to go home for the wedding, while the whole town tried to fix him up with every available female in town.
“Maybe I should let them. It might take the pressure off,” Jax said. “Do you know how hard it is to date today? Fucking impossible.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Ryder tossed a pretzel into his mouth. “One of these days, you both are going to regret making fun of me.”
I laughed despite myself. Whenever the two idiots started dishing out relationship advice, it always turned into entertainment.
Jax’s cat, Salem, jumped onto the table, just in time for me to break off a tiny piece of celery.
“Don’t feed him.” Jax pointed to his cat, who was purring louder with every second that ticked by.
“He looks hungry,” I said, just as Salem put his little black paw on my leg.
“He just ate an hour ago. He’s manipulating you.”
I glanced down at the little black fur ball. Jax was strict about what Salem ate and didn’t mess around, but whenever Jax wasn’t looking, one of us would sneak him a snack because the cat always acted like he was starving.
I grabbed my phone out of my pocket when it started buzzing. I glanced down to see my attorney’s name. I held up my finger and slid out of my seat. “I gotta take this. Be right back.”
I walked into Jax’s kitchen for some privacy. “Hey, Mark.”
“Hey, Nate, sorry to bother you, but your ex-agent, Brian, is being difficult. He came back to the table with a new demand. He’s not satisfied with the latest number. He’s pushing for more money.”
I shut my eyes. Of course he was—same story, different day. Brian has been a pain in my side since I switched to another agent last February. He has convinced himself that he could squeeze more money out of me by letting me know he had leverage over something I wished he didn’t.
“Don’t give him another cent,” I said immediately. “Just hold off as long as you can.”
“He’s being a pain in the ass.” He sighed. “Threatening to drag this out if we don’t respond. He thinks pressure will make you cave.”
“Tell him to go to hell.”
“Alright, I guess that closes the door on any further negotiations. I’m going to soften that response before I repeat it. I understand your position. I’ll take it from here.”
“Thanks, Mark.” I ended the call and leaned against the kitchen counter. Talk about a fucking buzzkill. Nothing like getting reminded of that mess when I was trying to have a normal night with my boys.
Practice had been good today. Our offense clicked. Coach wasn’t screaming at us, and nobody got injured. So much for the night ending on a good note.
I stuffed my phone in my pocket, said goodbye to the boys, and headed home.
The gate opened slowly, and the security guard waved me through as I pulled into my neighborhood. The sun was setting, and the tree-lined streets were silent.
It was the kind of neighborhood where you could walk your dog and sit back and relax, which was exactly how I liked it. I chose this place because it allowed me privacy. Every time I pulled into my driveway, I felt like a normal guy, coming home at the end of a workday.
I dropped my bag on the floor, kicked my shoes off, and headed straight to the kitchen. I pulled out a container of fruit, sat my ass on the stool, and started scrolling through my phone. Messages from my teammates started rolling in, and a group chat that I didn’t bother opening.
My emails were piling up, so I figured I would clean out my inbox.
It was mostly sponsorship requests and team emails. But one subject line caused me to pause.
Request for an interview.
It wasn’t just the subject line. It was the name.
BeccaHendrix@
I set my fork down and clicked on it.
Dear Mr. Sandler,
I hope this email finds you well. I am reaching out because Pressbox would like me to write an in-depth article about you this season. The focus will be more on a personal tone than your usual interviews.
I would love the opportunity to meet with you and learn more about what life is like for Nate Sandler off the field.
Please let me know your availability so we can discuss this further. I know things are getting busy, and I’m happy to work around your schedule.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Becca Hendrix
I leaned back in my chair and stared at the screen.
My first instinct was to laugh and smash the delete button.
This wasn’t the first time someone had reached out to request a personal interview.
Sure, I’ve granted them in the past, but I was careful with whom I selected.
Becca didn’t mess around. She had a reputation for digging until she got what she wanted.
She asked tough questions, but she never twisted my words, which I appreciated.
As much as she got under my skin, she was damn good at what she did, and I respected the hell out of her for it.
She reminded me a little of myself. Driven. Motivated. Always pushing forward because slowing down meant falling behind.
Our worlds might have been different, but we were both cut from the same stubborn cloth.
Maybe that explained why I was so tuned into her from the start.
I dragged a hand over my jaw. Of all the reporters out there, it had to be her. It appeared the universe was fucking with me.
I tossed another strawberry into my mouth.
I could ignore her. Pretend I never read the email or decline the interview. For some strange reason, though, I didn’t want to.
No doubt, it would be good for my image and the team. But the thought of just the two of us, alone with no room for me to deflect and no teammate to crack a joke to shift focus, sounded like a recipe for disaster.
It was a bad idea. It was insane for me to even consider it.
I picked up my phone and typed out a reply.
Becca,
You’ll need to get clearance from the team’s PR office first. Reach back out once that’s done.
I set my phone down and walked over to rinse off my plate. The thought of having some one-on-one time with her stirred something inside of me. Maybe I was lonely. Maybe I liked sparring with her.
Whatever the case, I was actually looking forward to it.