Chapter 13
I was up a little bit before the alarm on my phone went off.
Not much, maybe a few minutes. I had my usual game day anxiety.
Wyndi was still asleep. I liked to sleep cold, so she always loaded the bed with a lot of blankets.
She wasn’t a wild sleeper, but she would toss blankets off and pull them on as needed throughout the night.
My bed was big, so her movement didn’t bother me at all.
I was looking forward to a future of her throwing blankets off and putting them on.
At the moment, she must’ve been hot, because the blankets rested below her breasts.
She had the best titties. They were full—caramel-colored with dark chocolate areolas and suckable nipples.
I sighed to myself as I felt my dick stir.
The last thing I needed to do was get myself bricked up, when I knew I wouldn’t allow myself to fuck before a game.
I made my way into the bathroom instead and ran through my morning routine.
I brushed my teeth, washed my face, then hopped in the shower. From the shower, I hit the closet.
Wyndi was still asleep. I dropped to my knees by the side of the bed and kissed her lips. Her eyes fluttered open.
“Hey.”
She covered her mouth with her hand. She had a thing about blowing her morning breath in my face. “Hey.” She rolled over on her side, wrapped her arms around my neck, and hugged me tightly. “Good morning. You headed out?”
Her breath on my neck was warm. “Yeah. You want me to leave the rental? You want to drive yourself to the stadium later, or do you want me to have Shiloh or Eden pick you up?”
“You can take the rental. Eden offered to pick me up.”
“You hit it off with Eden, huh?”
“I hit it off with Shiloh, too. It’s just that Shiloh has a family. I don’t want to crash. Eden was gonna drive by herself; now she’ll have me in the car with her. She won’t have to walk into the stadium alone. We can walk in together.”
“Oh, y’all bonded over lonely girl shit?” I teased.
She tried to push me away and break our hug. I wouldn’t let her. “Go, Juney!” She called me by my familial nickname, and I chuckled. “Why do they call you that? I thought your dad’s name was Jericho.”
“It is. Jericho Daniel Israel. We have the same middle name. In the south, families sometimes call you by your middle name. Since we have the same middle name, it’s kinda like I’m named after him.
” I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s a stretch, but it’s what they call me.
” I kissed her one last time. “Let me get outta here.”
“See you at the game. Kick good, babes.”
That made me chuckle. “I’ll try. See you.”
The team stayed at The Excelsior Hotel Londynville.
That was where breakfast and the pre-game meal would be served.
The Coyotes organization encouraged all team members to stay at the hotel.
They felt like it promoted community and team building.
I typically stayed with the team, but since Londynville was my hometown and I owned a home locally, there was no reason for me to do that.
It would’ve been more convenient to jump on the elevator, take a few steps, and be at breakfast. But I preferred sleeping in my own bed whenever possible.
Besides, I was a twelve-year veteran. Nobody was gonna check me.
I walked into the ballroom that had been set up as a cafeteria for us.
After making my selections from the buffet and food stations, I found my homies—Kew, Travis Woodson, and Jaxxson McKissick.
We ate, shot the shit, ate some more, and shot the shit some more.
Before long, it was time to get on the bus and head to the stadium.
For me, the cafeteria was the place to run my mouth, crack jokes, and bullshit.
Once I made it to the locker room, it was like a switch flipped inside me.
My earbuds went into my ears, and the sounds of old school hip hop played in my ears: Nas “You Can Hate Me Now,” DMX “Party Up,” LL Cool J “Mama Said Knock You Out,” Eric B. & Rakim “Don’t Sweat the Technique.”
I went inside myself, beginning the mental work of preparing for the game.
I taped my ankles as I visualized kicking from different distances, the ball easily clearing the uprights.
I visualized the opening kickoff, harnessing my strength to make sure that the ball sailed through the air coming down between the 5- and 10-yard lines.
I knew the routine by heart, but I never let that fact make me slack.
I gave every game my all. Every moment meant something to me.
During the walk-through, I paid attention to everything the coach was saying, to every clue the field provided for how it could best serve me.
During warm-ups, I did the stretches, the drills, and the reps.
Before it was time for us to go back to the locker room, I looked up to the section I’d gotten for my family.
My eyes landed on Wyndi first. That was funny to me, because the year before, my eyes went to my mother first. Wyndi and I caught eyes.
I gave her a wink. She blew me a kiss and mouthed the word, “Catch!” That shit made me walk into the locker room with a simp ass grin on my face.
When it was time for the game to start, the team captains—Woodson, McKissick, and myself—walked out on the field.
Woodson called it, but the Leopards won the coin toss.
Of course, they opted to receive the ball.
I headed down the field to make the kick.
I said a quick silent prayer, visualized the ball landing at the 5-yard line, and got into position.
After the game, I met up with my family.
They wanted to celebrate the win, and I appreciated that because in year’s past, that was exactly what we did after a big win.
As I got older, though, I found that instead of energizing me, the games actually depleted my social meter faster than almost anything else on Earth.
After a game, I usually wanted to go home and sit in silence at least until the next day.
Since Wyndi had come into my life, I usually wanted to fall into her paradise ass pussy, bust a nut or two, and fall asleep with my head on her titties or her stomach.
“Give them this,” she told me right before I turned down their offer. “Spend time with your family.”
I agreed.
We ended up at my parents’ home, where the atmosphere was complete party and bullshit. It was the exact opposite of what the vibes had been at my grandparents’ house for Thanksgiving, but my parents were different people. They were down-to-earth, while my grandparents could be snooty and pompous.
There was pizza, liquor, loud music, and loud conversation. After about two hours, I felt like I was running on fumes. I looked around for my girl to let her know I was ready to blow the spot and found her dozed off at the kitchen island. That was pregnant lady behavior if I’d ever seen it.
I tapped her lightly and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Yo, you begged me not to out you about being pregnant, and you’re sitting here asleep in the middle of a party. You’re telling on yourself,” I teased.
Her eyes ballooned. “Oh, damn.” She pouted, and she looked so adorable to me. “I was trying so hard, but it’s been a long day, babes. And you know there’s a lot of walking when it comes to stadiums and games. Clearly, me walking is like giving this baby melatonin. Hopefully nobody noticed.”
I chuckled. “Hopefully, but with the drool—”
She slapped me on the bicep. “Shut up!”
I cracked up. “Let’s go.”
I took her hand and led her around the house. We said goodbye to everyone, giving them hugs and thanking them for everything. Then we jumped in the rental and headed to my place.