Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Amil sat near the front of the plane with the team, while Diana and her already half-drunk posse headed all the way to the back.
With Jalen sitting next to him, he didn’t think it wise to crane his neck every five minutes, searching for even the smallest, quickest glimpse of a riot of curls or a glowing smile.
Damn, he had it bad. He needed to do something about it.
As in, tell Jalen the truth. Put it out there so they could deal with it and move on. Hopefully as friends, but if he were being real with himself, he’d choose Diana over Jalen in the long run.
In the long run, but not right now. They had to win this game against the 49ers. It was a matter of pride. And Jalen’s inability to let chirping slide off his back would be a huge factor in the outcome.
Amil nudged his arm, and Jalen tugged his headphones off his ears. “Yeah?”
“Are you ready for tomorrow’s game?” Amil asked.
“Hell yeah.” Jalen punched his palm with the other fist.
“No, I mean, are you ready for all the shit-talking that’s going to happen?”
Jalen went from excited to stiff and scowling in the space between heartbeats. He glared at Amil. “What kind of shit-talking do you expect?”
Like he didn’t know exactly what Amil was talking about. Why the hell was Jalen so obsessed with Diana?
He could understand, of course, but he didn’t think his obsession and Jalen’s were the same. If Diana had told him to go away, he’d have honored her wishes. According to Diana, she had told Jalen to back off, more than once, and yet he kept mooning after her.
Well, not anymore. They’d not had a conversation about it, but Amil had noticed.
Jalen didn’t try to initiate conversations with her anymore.
He didn’t make it a point to touch her elbow when they did speak, whether it was about practice or the game or whatever community event Diana had lined up next.
And Diana hadn’t complained about him paying her too much attention lately.
She’d also stopped musing over the fact that she’d broken her own rule. That she was willing to challenge her family’s curse.
For Amil.
Heady feeling, knowing the woman he wanted more than anything in the world wanted him too. She wasn’t fully there yet; hell, they hadn’t even defined this thing between them, even though they were basically living together.
And he wasn’t pushing, because he knew she needed time. As comfortable as he was living with her and two cats in that tiny condo, he also continued to live out of his duffle bag rather than leave his toothbrush on the bathroom counter or hang up his wrinkled shirts in her closet.
He was moving along as slowly as she needed him to.
“Shit,” Jalen muttered, dropping his head against the back of his seat. “This is about Diana.”
Amil cleared his throat. “Yeah.”
“I’ve barely talked to her in weeks.”
“The 49ers’ defense doesn’t know that. Although, if you’re saying their chirping won’t get under your skin, that’s great. Especially if they don’t know. It’ll be comical, actually. Them trying to rile you up, you being completely oblivious. Or so it will seem.”
Jalen stared at his tray in its upright position on the back of the seat in front of him. Amil noted his knuckles turned white as he squeezed the armrest.
So, not over her, then. The greater issue with that needed to be dealt with at a later date. Right now, Amil needed to coach him through what to expect at that game.
“Fake it ’til you make it,” Amil advised after he’d listed the barbs he expected his former teammates to call out whenever they were near enough to Jalen. “Even if they bother you, don’t let those guys know.”
He dropped his hand onto his friend’s shoulder, gave it a squeeze. Hard enough to draw Jalen’s attention.
“You got this. I know you do.”
The plane landed, and they rolled up to the gate.
A bus waited to whisk them to the practice field.
As they made their way to the exit, he overheard Broderick chattering about how the rest of the staff was taking a separate bus to the hotel, while Jillian had arranged for a car to take the WAGs into the city so they could play, since the guys on the team were relegated to the hotel and an early lights out.
Diana and Emma would be included with the WAGs, especially if Jillian was planning the excursion. He was glad Diana was going to have fun while she was here in the Bay Area, although he wished he were the one showing her a good time.
Maybe they could take a vacation in the offseason, just the two of them. Take a little tour around the Pacific Northwest. Or go someplace farther away. Europe. A cruise on the Baltic Sea. He’d wanted to take a trip to Iceland for a while now.
Hell, he didn’t care where they went as long as they were together.
Yeah, he recognized that he was making long-term plans for a relationship that hadn’t even been defined, which was exactly why he would not make that suggestion yet.
He could wait.
Right now, it was time to focus.
He walked into Levi’s Stadium with the rest of his team and tried to pinpoint exactly how he felt, being a visitor instead of on the home team here.
Mostly, he was happy to have been traded. He liked the atmosphere with the Mountain Lions. He liked the coach, a lot. The defensive coordinator was a great guy with a whole lot of solid ideas. His teammates were becoming his friends.
And they were all hungry for a repeat Super Bowl appearance. It would be Amil’s first.
He really wanted that Super Bowl appearance.
Dante stepped up to his right as they strode through the art gallery. Amil heard Pedro behind him, pointing out Emma’s photograph to Callahan, who whistled and muttered, “Damn, she’s talented.”
“She makes our kicker look good in pictures, so, yeah, she sure is,” Pedro snarked.
Callahan snorted. “The real challenge is to make me not look good.”
In the visiting team locker room, they changed into practice gear and continued to talk shit. It was all good-natured. No one was out to get anyone here. They genuinely liked each other as humans as well as teammates.
This was it. He’d found his family. He didn’t need to wait until tomorrow on the field to solidify that.
He wished he could tell Diana, but he knew better. If he texted her, someone—probably Jillian—would see it, and then she’d be forced to lie or tell the truth, and frankly, neither option was good.
Not until after tomorrow’s game.
So he kept his little revelation to himself.
Or so he intended.
“What’s it like?” Broderick demanded, hooking his arm around Amil’s neck and pulling him into an aggressive bro hug. “Being back here. Are you sad? Happy? Both? What are you feeling, man?”
Amil twisted out of Broderick’s hold and said, “How does your wife put up with you?”
Broderick laughed, a booming, sincere laugh only Broderick could achieve. “Daddy knows how to keep his woman happy.”
“At least we know there won’t be another baby in nine months,” Pedro commented. “Since you have to sleep in separate hotel rooms tonight.”
“That’s what you think.” Broderick gave an exaggerated wink, and Amil couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made arrangements for Kate to sleep in his hotel room.
Could Amil do the same?
No. Bad idea. The last thing he and Diana needed was to be outed before tomorrow’s game.
They headed out to practice, a light one, no pads. Not taking chances that someone would get hurt the day before the game.
When Coach called it good, they tromped into the stadium, hit the showers.
Piled onto the bus and made their way to the hotel.
They had thirty minutes to check into their rooms, do whatever they needed to do, and then they were to report back to the lobby to pile onto the bus again and head out to dinner at a local restaurant Amil had chosen.
Well, at least, one of the members of the admin staff had asked him a few days ago for recommendations.
He paced his hotel room in an attempt to keep himself from texting Diana. It was a terrible idea and he damn well knew it. But he’d grown used to being around her, talking to her about, well, everything.
Shit, the idea of sleeping alone tonight was freaking anxiety-inducing.
It was crazy, this need to be with her, to be a part of her life.
At dinner, he watched Dante send a text then grin at the response.
“Are they having fun?” Amile asked, hopefully casually.
Dante laughed. “They’re at some club playing songs from the 1970s and ’80s, and look what they’re wearing.”
He turned his phone around so Amil could see a picture of Jillian, Allison, Diana, Emma, and Kate holding drinks and grinning at the screen. “Where the hell did they get these outfits?” Amil asked.
They all had teased hair and were dressed in neon everything, from wide stretchy headbands to some sort of netting over what looked like sports bras to micro miniskirts and leggings and—he finally laughed—leg warmers. Oh, and don’t forget those blindingly white tennis shoes they were all sporting.
Dante handed the phone to Pedro. “I’ll bet it was Jillian’s idea. Or if it was someone else’s idea, she’s the one who executed it.”
Pedro nodded while laughing. “Yep. This has my wife’s signature all over it.”
Dante passed the phone around the table. Even Coach chuckled. Was it weird that Amil felt better now that he’d seen for himself that Diana was having a good time?
Soon enough, they’d wrapped up dinner, Coach gave an encouraging speech, and they once again tromped to the bus, which took them back to the hotel.
Amil stripped down to his skivvies and lay in bed, channel surfing, waiting for the drowsiness to hit so he could go to sleep.
His phone buzzed, jerking him out of a doze. Diana’s name flashed across the screen.
“Hey,” he said warmly. “Back from the club already?”
“Yes, and I’m on the fourth floor. Which room is yours?”
Amil shot into a seated position in the bed. “I thought you were staying on the third floor.”
“I am.” She sounded impatient. “But I’m in the mood for a booty call.”
He sputtered. “Diana—”
“I need you, Amil.”
Well, shit. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell he’d say no when she said things like that.
“You better make sure no one sees you,” he warned.
Right before he gave her his room number.