Chapter 6
Nolan
I glance around the conference room where we’re meeting to review footage from the play-off game we lost last season. Most of the offensive team is here. Except Tanner. I check the time. The little shit stirrer is late. Again.
Coach Knox isn’t here either. Good. Maybe I can save Tanner’s ass. Again.
I dig my phone out and call Tanner. It rings five times, but he doesn’t answer. I scowl.
“What’s wrong?” Gage asks.
“Tanner’s not here, and he’s not answering his phone.”
“Probably got home late from the bar,” Brock grumbles.
Damnit. Tanner’s supposed to be getting his shit together. Which is why he started fake dating the bartender, Alaia. But closing the Bootlegger bar down doesn’t sound as if he’s getting his shit together.
I stand. “I’ll go get him.”
Corbin grunts. “Let him dig his own grave.”
I can’t. I’m the quarterback. It’s my job to lead this team.
“The same way you dug your own grave with your landlady, Siena?”
His nostrils flare, but he doesn’t answer my question. No surprises there. But I’ll keep on digging until I figure out what’s happening between him and his landlady. It’s my obligation as the leader of the team.
I hurry out of the conference room. I skip the elevator and bound up the stairs to the second floor where Tanner’s suite is.
I knock on the door but he doesn’t answer. “Tanner!” I shout. “You better be in there alone!”
The last thing he needs is another scandal. His career is hanging on by a thread as it is. Thus, the need for a fake girlfriend.
The door opens and Tanner squints up at me. “Why are you banging on my door in the middle of the night?”
I tap my watch. “It’s ten in the morning. You’re supposed to be in a meeting to review footage from our play-off game.”
He rubs a hand over his jaw. “It can’t be ten. I set my alarm for 9:45.” He finishes with a yawn.
I shove my watch in his face. “It’s ten. Get your ass moving.”
He starts to shut the door but I stick my foot in the door jamb to stop him.
“What are you doing?”
“As if I trust you.”
He clutches his chest. “You hurt me.”
“Knock it off. You have thirty seconds to get ready before I haul you downstairs the way you are.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “I should have slept naked today.”
I groan. He’s not joking. He’d parade around naked at the resort if we let him. Ask me sometime about when he streaked through the downtown of our rival’s city.
“You have thirty seconds. Hurry up.”
“Thirty seconds. I need thirty seconds to brush my teeth.”
“Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight…”
“Fine.” He sprints into the bedroom.
“Five. Four…”
He reappears. “Enough with the counting! I’m ready.”
I herd him out the door and down the hallway. He aims for the elevators but I elbow him. “Stairs.”
“Who died and made you my leader?”
“Quarterback Berg.” He was the quarterback before me. When he retired, I took over.
“Whatever,” Tanner mumbles.
When we arrive back at the conference room, Coach Knox is already standing at the front of the room. He frowns at me.
I point to Tanner. “Had to pick up a straggler.”
He nods before beginning.
“Nobody in this room wants to watch this film again. Including me. Especially me.” Knox plants his hands on the table at the front of the room. “But if you want to become champions, you don’t hide from the ugly stuff. You learn from it.”
Silence settles over the meeting room.
“We were favored to win the playoff game. Hell, people were already printing Super Bowl predictions with the Seals logo on them. And then we walked onto the field and played soft, sloppy, and selfish football.”
His gaze sweeps across the room. I cringe. I got sacked and threw an interception during the playoff game. Not my best performance. My shoulder aches as a reminder, but I ignore the urge to rub it.
“This film isn’t punishment. It’s a reminder. Talent means nothing if you don’t execute when it matters. Nobody in this room gets a free pass. Not the rookies. Not the veterans. Not the coaches.”
He nods toward the screen.
“Watch the mistakes. Own them. Then decide whether you’re willing to do what it takes to make sure this never happens again.”
“Someone get the lights.”
The room darkens and the footage begins to play. Gage leans forward as he studies the footage. As do Corbin and Brock. Tanner, on the other hand, digs out his phone.
I swipe it from him. He opens his mouth to protest but I glare at him. “You need to pay attention. Or did you forget about the pass you missed that got intercepted?”
He winces. “I didn’t forget.”
We’re barely five minutes in before Coach Knox stops the footage. “Nolan, your timing is off.”
“Disagree,” Coach Wilson grumbles. “His timing isn’t off. His mechanics are.”
I scowl at the quarterback coach. “I’m fine.”
Coach Knox studies me for a moment. Shit. Does he not believe me? Does he know about my shoulder? Does he realize I’ve been lying about my recovery?
I give him a thumbs-up and he motions for the footage to continue.
I can barely watch. I know what happens next. But I force myself to stare at the footage. To not cringe and glance away.
“Fuck,” Gage murmurs when the sack occurs. “I never should have let you get sacked.”
I want to tell him it’s okay. It wasn’t his fault. Football is a team sport after all. But like Coach Knox said, we can’t improve if we don’t work on our errors.
“We’ll work with Coach Knox and Coach Wilson to improve.”
And improve we must. I can’t survive another hit like that one. I won’t be able to play again if I do. My shoulder’s barely hanging on as it is.
“I’ll schedule some time,” Coach Knox calls.
I salute him. “Yes, Coach Cha-Cha.”
The players laugh and the tension breaks, which was my intention. Knox shoots me a glare and I mimic dancing the cha-cha. Tanner jumps to his feet and begins dancing in earnest.
Knox lets the team have a moment before clearing his throat. “Sit down. Back to work!”
“Whatever you say, Coach Cha-Cha. But whenever you’re ready, I’d love to teach you to dance.” Tanner winks before settling back in his seat.
We watch the rest of the game in much the same manner. Knox pauses the footage again and again to point out our mistakes. Coach Wilson doesn’t hesitate to agree.
By the time we finish, I feel raw from all the negative commentary. I should be used to it. Between the press, social media comments, and the team, I’ve heard all the negative comments possible about the playoff game we lost.
But each comment slices through me worse than a knife. It badgers at my confidence. It reminds me of the injury that’s lingering. The injury I’m terrified isn’t ever going to heal.
“All right,” Coach Knox says when the lights switch back on. “Get out of here and get some lunch. We’ll reconvene this afternoon.”
Tanner sighs. “Awesome. Can’t wait.”
Gage elbows him. “Do you not want to improve?”
“How can you improve perfection?”
Brock growls. “Do you ever shut up?”
“Are you ever not grumpy?” Tanner shoots back.
Corbin grunts. “Lunch.”
“I’m hungry,” Brock says.
Tanner does a dramatic eye roll. “When isn’t Mr. Grumpy hungry?”
“Careful,” I warn. “One of these days I’m not going to save your ass when Brock goes after you.”
Tanner waves away my concern. “As if he can catch me.”
We file out of the room past Coach Knox. I avoid his gaze, but I can’t miss how he’s studying me. I barely resist the urge to rub my shoulder.
This season is not beginning the way I’d hoped.