Chapter 9
Training Camp was approaching quickly, and I was nowhere near ready mentally.
The thought of being away from Skyy for two weeks sent me into a messed-up head space every time I thought about it.
It didn’t help that she had my bags laid out on the guest bed, dropping things into them anytime she found something from the checklist she’d created.
I pulled her out of the guest bedroom by the hand.
She giggled. “Stop, Jay. Pretending that training camp isn’t a week away isn’t gonna stop it from coming.”
“I know. But every time I see you dropping something into my suitcase, it feels like you can’t wait for me to go.”
Her brown eyes widened with shock. “Are you even serious right now? You don’t know that I’m dying on the inside about you leaving me? You don’t see how I’m strategically packing your bag so I can fit in there?”
That made me smirk, and I pulled her into a hug.
“I’m not trying to get rid of you, boo. Concentrating on making sure that you’ll have everything you need is a coping mechanism.”
“Damn.” I kissed her lips. That hadn’t dawned on me. “I’m not gon’ hold you. If I wasn’t new to this team and needed to know these guys and see how they do things, I would blow this shit off. I don’t even know how effective I’m gonna be, not really even wanting to be there.”
“You’re gonna kill it, because Jaxxon McKissick always kills it.”
I kissed her lips again.
“We need to start getting ready for Travis and Kelcie’s get-together,” she told me before walking away from me, with her ass jiggling in the biker shorts she wore.
“You’re not wearing those!” I called after her.
Every year, my closest homey, Travis Woodson, threw a “season kick-off” get-together.
There was always food, music, fellowship, and most importantly to Travis, prayer.
After we spent hours hanging out and enjoying the atmosphere, Travis would gather everybody together and pray over and with us.
The prayer was for a good, safe, and healthy season.
He prayed against distraction, scandal, and injury.
He prayed for protection of both our bodies and our minds, clarity, and our personal integrity.
Even when I played for Portland, I flew in for the event, if my schedule allowed, because I felt like Travis’s prayer laid the foundation for each new season.
Granted, his wasn’t a large affair, maybe twenty people.
I wasn’t concerned about who showed up, or who didn’t—I always tried to have my face in the place because it was important to me.
When I met Travis on the campus of Tubman A.
& M. University all those years ago, it only took a few moments for me to realize that he was more than just a student athlete.
He was an anointed man of God. Travis loved the Lord.
He was so adamant about praising and being a worshiper that a lot of dudes on the team steered clear of him.
A lot of them asked me how I could stand to fuck with him as my roommate.
A lot of them didn’t know that I was a preacher’s kid, and I appreciated the shit out of Travis.
When we were at T.A.M.U., that dude was not only my homeboy, he was my spiritual covering.
I grew up with a father who loved God’s word, preached it every Sunday, and practiced it every day.
That wasn’t my ministry. I had the tendency to put God on the shelf and pull Him off when I needed Him.
My father made sure that I knew that wasn’t how it worked.
When I got out of my father’s house, I was ready to wild out.
I wanted the full college experience—pussy, weed, freedom, liquor—everything I’d been denied growing up with a preacher for a father.
God was like, “nah, little buddy.” He paired me up with Travis and sat me right the hell down.
Travis wasn’t preachy or judgy. He never made me feel like I couldn’t participate in debauchery.
It was just watching him walk in his faith, looking so much like my dad in his love for the Lord that inspired me to be better.
I still engaged in college shenanigans, but I stayed much closer to my faith than I would have, had I not established a friendship with Travis.
Travis and Kelcie owned a modest home. A lot of people were shocked when they visited the medium-sized, two-story for the first time.
Travis was a highly sought-after quarterback with record-breaking stats and a reputation that was above reproach.
He was the face of several popular products and was always being vetted for endorsement opportunities because of his squeaky-clean image.
None of that fazed Travis. As the son of an investment banker, one thing Travis knew was how to make money work for him.
Being flashy wasn’t his thing—saving and investing were his things.
When he left football, he and Kelcie wouldn’t have to worry about money for the rest of their lives.
And neither would their children, their children, or their children.
Travis’s main focus behind God, his wife, and football was creating generational wealth for the Woodson progeny to come.
Skyy and I walked into the backyard, holding hands.
It was lush with both greenery and flowers.
The deck was outfitted with outdoor furniture that looked more comfortable than modern, and it was strung with those fairy lights that women seemed to like so much.
The backyard gave off a “homey” vibe that was cool.
Before we could even make it to the deck, Skyy and I were approached by Phoenix Avondale and his wife, Sage.
I played with Phoenix in Portland. He’d been a good player and a cool teammate.
He was traded after one season, to the Londynville Leopards.
He stayed there for three seasons, and now he was starting his second season with the Coyotes.
Phoenix wasn’t one of Skyy’s players, so while she “knew” him, she definitely didn’t know him well.
I shook Phoenix’s hand, while Skyy gave his wife a friendly hug.
“Welcome to Chicago, man,” he told me.
“Thanks. I’m looking forward to getting on the field and racking up some wins.”
“Me, too. Me, too.”
“Congratulations. I heard you two got married.” Sage gushed.
“Yeah, you’re a lucky man, McKissick.” Phoenix pulled his own wife into a side hug. “There’s nothing like the love of a good woman.”
Sage melted into him.
“Facts,” I said.
Skyy leaned into me, so I put my arm around her.
Phoenix agreed. “Well, y’all should probably go grab some food before Travis gets into his word for the night.”
“We’ll catch up,” I assured him, taking Skyy’s hand in mine and heading toward the deck.
“They’re so cute together. Every time I see them, he’s doting on her,” she commented. “Like married couple goals.”
I gave a little shrug. “We’re married couple goals. Now, let’s go get this food so we can get this prayer.”