Chapter 4
Johnson
Iwatch everyone drive away with an uneasy feeling hanging over me.
Oh, I’m nobody.
When Grace said that to the girls, a wave of awareness hit.
Grace Battle—brilliant, beautiful, star collegiate athlete, insanely accomplished Grace—doesn’t see herself the way that the rest of us do.
I don’t know her that well, but I know for certain she is all of those things and probably more. I wonder why she has a diminished view of herself?
We all have our secrets, I guess.
Before I can dive too deep into that thought, my phone rings.
It’s a call from the Waves head of PR. Huh.
“Hi, Lara,” I say as I pick up.
“Hi, Johnson, sorry to bother you on a Saturday.” Her voice comes through in a clipped tone.
Getting an unscheduled call from a PR executive usually means something bad is brewing. My shoulders tense up a little.
“This is a courtesy call,” she continues. “I know that you’re one of the co-chairs for this year’s Waves Foundation Gala, and I didn’t want to do this over email.”
“Okay…” I have no idea what this could be. Our big Waves charity event is coming up next month, but my co-chair role is more in name only, to drive donations.
“We need to pull Molly from her position as auction coordinator this year.” Molly is her number two in the Waves PR office. “She has to pick up some other projects that have been dropped on our office. So we’re going to hire a different person to organize the auction.”
“Oh, no problem.” I relax now that I know why she reached out. “I trust your judgment, of course.”
“Thank you. We didn’t want to spring a new person on the co-chairs without any explanation. We’ll be looking for her replacement starting this week.”
Not a big deal to me. My efforts will involve a round of phone calls to CEOs asking for donations and encouraging the players on the team to donate as well. Two hours of my time, max, and something I’m happy to do.
We say our goodbyes, and I jump into the shower. Once I dry off and dress, I head back into the kitchen and fix some dinner.
After the food is ready, I sit down in the TV room with my plate. Just me, alone again, in this big house.
15,853 square feet big.
So big that the space reverberates with the echoes of any sound I make across the empty, unused rooms, not to mention the squeaks of doors, hum of all the appliances, and the groaning of the walls.
Sometimes I like it for a night of silence, especially during a hectic phase of the season. But more often than not, the house feels too quiet and too empty.
Poor little rich quarterback. I know. Still, it’s lonely.
Tonight, I decide to keep myself busy by calling my family. As soon as I dial Mom, she picks up.
“Hey, Johnny.” Yeah, she still calls me by my childhood nickname. “How was your day?”
“Good. I had some friends over to play ball.”
“That’s great. When does your training camp start again?” She loves to hear about my football routine, having been a great softball player back in her day.
“Mid-July, so there’s a couple more weeks until then. I’m focused on conditioning and mastering the playbook updates for now.”
“The summer sure is flying by.”
“Yup. How are you all?”
“We’re holding things down okay here, and the kids are thriving. Lainie returns to hybrid days in the office at the end of July.”
I’m not as close to my sister as I am to my mom. She’s eight years older, so we didn’t spend a ton of time together as kids, especially once she was a teenager. But I don’t know how Lainie’s able to do it all, especially with Mark not helping much at home as far as I can tell.
I don’t want my mom stuck picking up his slack either.
“Mom, are you sure I can’t get you guys more help? Cleaners? A part-time nanny?”
She responds quickly. “No, no, Johnson. You’ve done enough. I’m glad to take care of those things for Lainie and the kids.”
I don’t push her for now, but I make a mental note to keep checking in. I have the money, so it wouldn’t be a big deal to set them up with more resources.
Like I’m doing for those kids facing what I did when I was younger.
That’s the thing about having all this money.
I’m using it to create a dream home for myself, to help others in need, because actually doing something with the absurd amounts coming in feels better than just staring at the numbers in my account.
And those moments of action give me brief relief from the thoughts that creep up when I’m by myself.
Namely, I better be pitch-fucking-perfect to show that I actually deserve any of this.
Apparently ready to change the topic, Mom starts telling me a story about some cute things Emma said over the last day. After about fifteen minutes, we say goodbye.
I’m alone in the quiet of my house again, and put on a baseball game to fill the silence.
The week goes quickly. I put in long hours at the Waves facility even though we aren’t close to our peak practice period yet.
In part, it’s a me thing. I add in extra training sessions to ensure my conditioning is rock solid. I also catch up on some game film of our first opponents that I didn’t have a chance to begin reviewing when I was in Alabama.
For the good of the team, I make sure to connect with more of the offensive players too, building our chemistry and connection. I schedule a hang-out session at my house on Wednesday night that most of the offensive starters attend.
Another distraction emerges on Friday, when Landon’s back in the Waves facility for training after returning from Wimbledon.
Apparently, things with Rori went well, despite there being a gossip story that risked busting their secret.
She’s made it to the finals tomorrow, and Landon, without revealing many details, seems to have had a good trip.
“Yeah, London was a fun time,” he says to me with a wink when we bump into each other in the locker room. I understand his not spilling secrets with so many people around.
No elaboration is necessary, honestly, now that I see the glow in his expression. Their relationship started as a one-night stand, but it looks like it’s getting more real. I’m happy for him.
We’d spoken about his growing feelings for Rori in more detail six weeks ago, when he admitted he wanted to be more than just a hookup buddy with her.
I get it. Even more than I admitted to him at that time.
I had a girlfriend in high school, a sweet girl named Amy. Although we had a lot of firsts together, we weren’t meant to last. There was always something missing, like we were ultimately meant to be friends, nothing more.
We’d broken up once I’d left for college, on good terms. She’s happily married now, and we’d even caught up amicably after I bumped into her in the grocery store when I was back home.
I went a little crazy at first in college, my mind blown by the women interested in me as a member of the football team. That got old, though, even starting my last year in school.
Now I feel caught in between—not willing to abstain (no way) yet also struggling to meet women that really want to get to know me as me. So the last couple of years have been marked with a few short-term and casual situations, but I’ve not felt truly connected to anyone.
“You want to come over for dinner tomorrow night?” Landon asks, interrupting my thoughts. We generally hang out a few times a week, sometimes just us and sometimes with a bigger group.
“Sure. What time?”
Suddenly, Landon’s getting pulled away by another one of the guys. I let him go and walk toward Head Coach Rich Houston’s office. Coach texted me earlier to stop by, and it’s approaching six, so he’ll head home for dinner soon.
I knock on the door, and when he peers through the glass, he sees it’s me. “Hey Johnson, come in.”
While I work most closely with our offensive coordinator, Marshall Olson, when it comes to on-field strategy, Coach Houston’s been a mentor to me. Almost like a surrogate father.
Better than your real one. Not that surpassing my own dad in the fatherhood department is difficult.
Coach Houston had done his research when the Waves drafted me. He’s treated me from the first day with a soft touch instead of a stern one.
“How’re things?” He’s sitting behind the large wooden desk in his office, which has floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of our main practice field.
I step inside and sit down in one of his guest chairs.
“They’re going well, Coach. Bailey and I are on the same page so far.
And the o-line seems rock solid. It’ll be helpful to see how the other wide receivers perform during camp.
I’m not totally sure who my pick would be for the second and third options. ”
He nods. “I like what I’m seeing. So does Marshall. Proud of how you’ve come back from your trip ready for the season.” The praise instantly causes my mood to lift. “How’s your family doing?”
This is probably the main reason for my invitation to his office. Coach wants to check in on my family situation.
“Everyone’s fine.” I clasp my hands together on my lap. “I’m a little worried about my sister having to go back to work, but so far, so good.”
“Margaret and I are praying for your sister and her little boy, and for your whole family. Let me know if you need anything?”
He has a sincere look on his face, and I know from the last two years, his wife Margaret and he really do take their relationships with us players seriously.
I plant a smile on my face, so he can see I appreciate him asking. “Thanks, Coach, I will.”
He dismisses me soon after, and I step into the hallway.
Looking to find more ways to keep myself busy so I don’t have to go home to my empty house.