Chapter 17
Seventeen
I barely make it through our team meeting. It’s been two weeks since I married my surly little bride. And I feel like we’re still at square one.
Coach called a last-minute meeting, and I’ve been too distracted to pay much attention. I’m still not sure what it’s about when—
“Graves, this one is for you. So, listen up,” Jacobson says. “Our owner, Will Baxter, has invited all who aren’t traveling for the Thanksgiving holiday to eat and enjoy the festivities at his place. Graves, I’ve already RSVPed for you and the new little missus.”
I sit up a little taller. Did he just say what I think he said? “Uh—but we have plans.” We don’t. Rebecca called asking us to fly out for the holidays and Stella declined with the excuse that my schedule wouldn’t allow it.
“You didn’t.” Jacobson grins. “Now you do.” He nods as if he’s doing me a favor. “That’s it, guys. Enjoy the break. We’ll see you on Thursday, or in January.”
The guys around me stand, but they don’t go anywhere. They are content to yammer on to one another like it’s been months since they’ve seen each other.
“Graves, you got married?” Maverick Monroe says. “I mean, I saw the interview. I thought it was a joke.”
I ignore the idiot midfielder and jog up to the head of the room. “Coach,” I say. “Stella and I can’t make it to Thanksgiving.” I clear my throat, not quite meeting Jacobson’s eye. “Really. We can’t.”
“Doubtful,” Jet Jacobson says. “Whitaker already told me her family is in Canada.” Pointing a finger at me, he adds, “Baxter’s house, two o’clock, Thanksgiving Day. Don’t be late.” Then he slips his laptop into his backpack, not bothering to pay me any more attention.
“But Coach, listen—”
His head whips up and he takes one step closer to me, putting almost zero space between the two of us.
“No, you listen. You married your girl. You moved into your cabin. And since then, you haven’t spoken to one of your teammates.
This is part of the reason I didn’t want you leaving Lakeview.
Married or not, you must be in contact with your teammates. You need them.”
I open my mouth, but Jacobson isn’t finished.
“Not to mention, no woman wants to be in the woods, alone, at all times. Your wife needs this too. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for her. You can’t keep her locked up in the woods—”
“She isn’t locked up. She can come and go anytime.” But she hasn’t. And while Stella was always introverted, she always spent time with her friends too. She had a tight-knit group in school, and now she’s stuck with me and only me.
I bow my head and inhale a deep breath. “You might be right.” Maybe Stella would be more cooperative about studying for our green card interview if she had any semblance of a social life.
“Of course I’m right. We need you, Roman. You’re the best at what you do. But even more, you need this team. You need these men. Not to mention, you’re going to drive your new wife away if you are the only person she sees or converses with. Get the girl out.”
For the first time in my Red Tails career, I’m hearing Jet Jacobson. You need your team.
Maybe they can help me.
I wait in the locker room where a couple guys have decided to take up residence. I know exactly who I want to talk to. I’m just waiting for the chance to pull him away. This isn’t a conversation I want to have with every member of this team. Nope, one guy will do, and I know who.
The minute Lucca Cruz stands from the gathered group, I tug on his arm, pulling him into the only private space in this place: the showers.
“Whoa,” Lucca grunts.
I yank the shower curtain closed and stand in front of my most obnoxious teammate.
“Graves,” he says, brows raised, looking me up, then down. “Not my thing, man. Besides, didn’t you just get married?”
“Shut up,” I say. I don’t have time for Lucca’s charm or idiocy. “I am going to tell you something that no one else knows. You can’t tell anyone. Understand?”
“Do you know how sealed Brazilians keep their lips?”
“You’re the only Brazilian I know. So, I’d guess not very sealed.” I shrug.
“When it comes to women, maybe not. When it comes to secrets, we are masters. Tell me.” His brows bounce twice, making me wonder if this is a huge mistake.
Am I going to end up in jail for trusting the wrong Red Tail?
Lucca slaps a palm to his chest. “You can trust me, Graveyard.”
And then I spill my guts about Stella, about our marriage, everything about the last two weeks to Lucca Freaking Cruz.
Lucca circles in the small shower. “This makes so much more sense.” He taps a finger to his chin. “Why a girl like that would marry a guy like—”
“Thanks,” I deadpan. “Instead of insulting me, can we get to the part where you help me? We’re going to have to deal with this green card interview. We’re going to be investigated. Stella isn’t cooperating. How do I make us look legit?”
“You mean, how do we keep both of you out of jail?”
“That too.” I growl out the words and grind my teeth. I should have asked Zev.
Lucca throws one arm around my shoulders, just as the shower head above us drips onto my neck.
“I’ve got it. Ready?” He holds up one hand, dragging out in the air along with his words: “Marriage. Counseling.”
I scoff. “Are you kidding. We’ve been married two weeks.”
He lifts one shoulder in nonchalance. “I’m telling you, my cousin married an American woman, and with notes from their marriage counselor, his green card was approved twice as fast as any other.”
“Is that true?” My brows lower, and I’m thinking—Stella isn’t taking any of this seriously, at least with me, but maybe she would with a counselor. We’d have someone to vouch for us.
“Was Pelé the greatest ball player to walk the earth?” he says in answer to my question. “Of course he was. He was Brazilian.”
Marriage counseling.
Huh.
That just might work.