Chapter 26
BECCA
The second I walked through the door, I knew something was wrong.
Nate was sitting on his sectional, blankly staring across the room.
The TV was off. There was no music playing.
Just complete silence. His head was tipped back, elbows resting on his knees, and a bottle of beer hanging loosely in one hand.
Nate never drank during the week.
“Hey,” I said cautiously, setting my bag down on the table. “You look like hell.”
He dragged a hand over his mouth, huffing out a quiet laugh. “That about sums it up.”
Another thing I noticed was that he didn’t kiss me or say hello like he usually did. Normally, he would pull me into his arms and either tease me about something or ask about my day. He was sitting there doing absolutely nothing.
His cell phone sat on the table next to him, lighting up with a million notifications, but I wasn’t even sure he knew it was there.
“Nate,” I said, stepping forward, noticing the sharp line of his jaw and the exhaustion carved deep into his face. “What’s going on? You barely even noticed me walk in the door.”
He looked up, and his expression softened a tiny bit when he saw me, but it wasn’t enough. “Thanks for coming over on such short notice.”
My lips formed into a frown. “Why do you sound so detached and look so tense? Is everything okay?”
I felt stupid for asking, because obviously things weren’t okay.
He let out a breath through his nose and glanced at his beer. “Not really.”
I moved toward the couch and sat down slowly. “What’s this all about?”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I don’t even know where to start.”
Nate wasn’t someone who typically struggled for words. “Why don’t you start by telling me why you called me over here?”
He glanced away, not meeting my eyes. An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. “Something has come up, and with the season in full swing, I’m thinking it might be best for us to cool things down a bit.”
I stared at him, giving him a look that said I wasn’t buying this nonsense. “Do you mind telling me what happened between Saturday night and now?”
The muscle in his jaw tightened. “Becca, I’m sorry, I…”
“Don’t,” I said, surprised by how calm my voice sounded. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence? There is something you’re not telling me, and I’m not leaving until you do.”
There was clearly something very wrong. I had never seen him like this before.
He didn’t answer right away, and that only made me more concerned.
“I’m trying to protect you.”
I reared back. “Excuse me? Protect me from whom?”
His fingers tightened around the bottle. “My ex-agent, Brian, showed up tonight.”
I frowned immediately. I had so many questions. “What did he want?”
I racked my brain trying to figure out why a visit from his old agent would cause him to want to put some distance between us.
He hasn’t talked about him. His name never came up during our interview sessions. Not that I didn’t want to ask, but there was an NDA involved that limited what he could talk about.
He rolled his neck from side to side, bringing his hand up to rub his right shoulder. “Money.”
“Do you owe him back pay, or is there something else?”
“I wish it were that simple.” He stared down at the floor. “He’s been blackmailing me for weeks.”
I blinked. Surely, I heard him wrong. “Forgive me, but I’m so confused right now. Your ex-agent is blackmailing you for money?”
He set his beer down on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. “I really don’t know how to tell you this because, honestly, I’ve been trying to deal with it myself, hoping it would go away, but obviously, it’s not going away.”
He was starting to freak me out. “What is he holding over your head?”
He exhaled a heavy breath through his nose and dragged a hand over the back of his neck. He still hadn’t looked at me yet.
“Last year, during the playoffs, I was injured.”
I frowned. “Guys play injured all the time.”
“Not like this.”
“How bad was it?”
“Bad enough to where I shouldn’t have played.” His eyes fluttered shut for half a second. “I got hurt during practice, and my shoulder was worse than anyone knew.”
I glanced at his shoulder, trying to remember if he had complained about pain or hinted at an injury, but my memory was coming up short. I would have remembered.
“How did you injure your shoulder?”
“We were getting ready for the New York matchup. I got hit pretty hard. I tried to brush it off, but every time I would outstretch my arm, I could feel the stress in my joint. It was obvious that I was in pain, and my mechanics were off. Everyone in the locker room saw the hard tackle, plus I had a little bump on my shoulder.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Are you saying you played with an AC joint sprain?”
He nodded. “It was minor. I thought I could handle it, but the swelling got worse. When a few people questioned it, I downplayed it. Told them I had a headache and wasn’t feeling great, which wasn’t a total lie.”
That should have surprised me, but players did that all the time. They pushed through pain and convinced themselves they were fine when they weren’t, but there was obviously more to the story.
“Who knew about your injury?”
People had been speculating for months after that loss, wondering if he was one hundred percent during that game.
He suffered a rough tackle at the end of the second quarter.
I remember him looking off after that play and scrambling when he normally looked untouchable.
It suddenly all made sense. He wasn’t fully healthy to begin with because that sack shouldn’t have caused him to unravel the way he did.
“Coach Mac knew something was off.”
Of course he did. It was his job to notice everything. It was also his responsibility to protect his players, too.
“He sent me to the team doctor for a cortisone shot to help me get through it.”
My chest ached for him because I could see it so clearly now. His stubborn pride and determination made him push past his limits.
“I understand why you wanted to play, Nate, but Coach Mac had an obligation to look out for your best interests, not just his own.”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t all on him.
I downplayed my injury to the staff and my teammates.
Never mentioned it publicly.” He glanced up.
“I agreed to it, Becca. Hell, I wanted to play. It was our team’s best shot at winning.
We had momentum. I thought I could pull it off.
I didn’t want to be that guy sitting on the sidelines while the entire season got flushed down the toilet. ”
I rubbed my temples, trying to put myself in his shoes.
I couldn’t imagine the pressure he was under or the expectations he faced.
Not just from the fans, but also from his teammates, coaches, and management.
He sacrificed so much for a chance to win, but he lost, and that must have stung ten times worse.
Now I understood why he went off the radar.
“You said Brian had been blackmailing you. How did he even find out?”
While I didn’t know Brian personally, I’ve heard stories, and they weren’t all great.
“He walked into one of the training rooms when I was getting my shot. At the time, he still had access to medical records. It was never listed on the injury report, so it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”
That was such bullshit and a conversation for another day, because apparently, the Hawks organization had some shady-ass people working for them. My little reporter’s head was spinning.
“Okay,” I said slowly, giving my brain a minute to catch up. “That was last January. You said he’s been blackmailing you for weeks. Why did he wait so long?”
He huffed out a laugh. “He was waiting for the right moment. I’m negotiating a new contract.
More pressure, more money. And what makes it worse is that he knows about us.
” I blinked, feeling heat rush to my face while he continued.
“Benji took a picture of us kissing on Saturday night. I guess he and Brian are friends.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
I was going to kill that little shithead. I never liked him, and this just confirmed what a creep he really was.
I rubbed my hands together, trying to get my brain to focus, because my thoughts were all over the place.
But somehow, they kept circling back to all the rumors I’d heard about Nate’s ex-agent.
I never met him, but from what I knew, he had a reputation for being a womanizer.
The guy wasn’t exactly in a position to be judging anybody, especially not us.
All the gossip and whispers that had floated through the pressroom over the years came tumbling forward. Things I’d been told but never paid too much attention to, because I stayed in my lane, did my job, and avoided scandals. Now, I was replaying in my head every conversation I had.
The hypocrisy was strong with that one.
“Brian Sullivan isn’t exactly one to talk.”
Nate’s head snapped to mine. “What do you mean?”
“The guy is notorious for being disrespectful toward women.”
He folded his hands together. “Tell me more.”
I swallowed, forcing myself to remember everything I had heard. “He tried inviting a female colleague of mine to his hotel room during Super Bowl week, and she wasn’t the only one he extended an invitation to.”
Brian Sullivan had a reputation. He wasn’t the clean-cut family man he pretended to be. He was too handsy, and his inappropriate behavior made the female reporters uncomfortable.
Nate’s brows pulled together, confusion mixing with realization.
“I knew he stepped out on his wife, but then again, so did plenty of other guys in my world.” He cringed, but that was nothing new to me.
Most of the guys played the devoted family man in front of the cameras, but behind the scenes, they lived a double life.
It happened in every sport, not just the NFL.
He grabbed my hand. “Has he ever tried anything with you?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve never had any direct communication with him. I didn’t even think he knew who I was.”