Chapter 6
Chapter Six
NOAH
I slide the sweaty Hurricanes athletic shirt over my head and throw it in the team hamper.
Team workouts went well today, but my ass has been thoroughly kicked.
I flex my ankle, testing how it feels. It definitely has its strength back, thanks to months of balancing poses.
The ability to stay on your feet, moving forward, is important for a tight end, and balance plays a key part in that.
I catch a flash of red in my peripheral vision as Mack approaches his locker. As the only redhead on the team, he’s hard to miss. “So, where are you taking her?” he asks.
“You know where,” I reply tersely. Everyone knows I have a preference.
Pia is a family friend and is the head chef at The Lush.
When she called me, terrified that the rapidly rising rent prices might put the restaurant out of business, I knew I had to step in—hell, I wanted to step in.
Buying the entire commercial strip was an investment, anyway.
Mack puts his hands up in surrender. “Just asking. I didn’t know if this was that serious, considering you’ve barely spoken to her.”
“It could be,” I say, more nonchalantly than I feel. “Even if it wasn’t, the Atlantic cod in miso butter sauce is unmatched.”
“You do you, man.”
The restaurant scene in Houston is amazing.
Our huge melting pot means you can get any cuisine here and it will be good.
But The Lush is my favorite restaurant in the city.
It’s a known haunt of mine. Besides the amazing chef, the staff is incredible, and the ambiance can’t be beat.
I take my mom there occasionally, but a lot of times I go by myself just to enjoy the food, which is beyond anything I can whip up for myself.
I’m no slouch in the kitchen, but I don’t have a culinary palette.
Taking Audrey there is a no brainer. She would get a better idea of who I am there than she would at any chain restaurant.
That’s really what I want most from this night.
I heft my backpack onto one shoulder and turn to head out toward the parking lot. “I’ll see y’all later.”
My phone rings on my way to my car and I grimace when I see it’s my dad calling.
Thank God for my mother. She kept my feet firmly planted on the ground and was always there to balance my dad out.
Reminding me that football isn’t everything.
The man I am on the field was definitively shaped by my father, but the man I am off the field was molded by my mom.
It feels silly to complain about this now that I’ve made it to the NFL, since he was right about the extra effort it took.
I answer stiffly, wondering if I would get the coach version of him, or my actual father. “What’s up, Dad?”
“Just checking in on how the first couple days back are going.” His way of passive aggressively asking why I wasn’t still in the weight room.
“They’re good. We worked out as a team today.”
I braced myself for another one of his NFL stories.
“There’s nothing like a team gym. I had my best workouts with the Outlaws. All of us are there together, on the same page, striving to get better.”
I want to roll my eyes. Dad never hesitates to remind me what it was like during his glory days with Dallas. It’s as if he thinks because of his experience, he doesn’t have to be an actual dad. Instead, our entire relationship has revolved around football, and that’s where our connection ends.
“That’s what it felt like today, but it’s hard when the roster is still getting finalized.” I keep my tone neutral, not letting my annoyance creep into my voice. “I really like some of the new guys, but there’s a chance they won’t be here in a couple weeks.”
“Don’t worry about anyone but yourself. This season is about making sure you aren’t one of them next year.
” This is a classic Dad line of conversation.
I’ve heard it a hundred times. Next, he’ll tell me to not let anything distract me.
“Keep your head on straight. Blinders on. There’s work to be done.
You had plenty of time to play this summer. ”
“I was injured,” I remind him.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t forget your goals, your legacy.” His legacy is undoubtedly what he wanted to say.
“I won’t, Dad,” I assure him, knowing that earning his approval was the best way to keep our relationship status quo.
“Call me after practice next week and tell me how everyone looks. Remember, no distractions.”
“I will,” I promise.
I hang up, knowing he’d be disappointed to hear that in a couple hours I’ll be on my way to meet Audrey.
Who is most definitely a distraction.