Chapter Seventeen
ASTON
During the season, the locker room smells like sweat, Gatorade, and various medical ointments. But on the Monday after our playoff loss, the air is heavy with the flat scent of plastic garbage bags, cardboard, and cleaners.
I sit on the bench in front of my cubby, my hands wrapped around the black bag we use to donate gear.
I already put a few of my jerseys in, a few pairs of gloves, and some workout gear.
Some things we sign, but others go into the bags, and then the organization distributes them to various charities and whatnot.
“Look at this,” Brody says from two lockers down, tossing an unopened container of pre-workout powder into his bag. “I was looking for this and thought I was losing my mind. Huh.” He chuckles. “Kind of feels like we’re getting evicted. Or moving out of our dorms in college.”
“You are getting evicted, Vaughn,” Saint rumbles. He’s hunched over as he rolls up his custom knee braces. “The Offensive Coordinator looked at your tape on that third-down slant route and probably changed the door codes while we were still in the shower.”
He’s teasing. Sort of.
“Fuck off. That jam was illegal,” Brody grumbles. I think the fatigue is hitting us now, so there’s not any heat to his defense. “Pitz, tell him the corner held me.”
Liam doesn’t look up from his own locker.
He’s stacking his clean undershirts in a methodical way.
He took a hard hit to the ribs in the second quarter, and I know he’s still feeling it by the way he winces whenever he reaches for something.
“He definitely held you, Brody. But the ref was looking at the backfield. Just let it go. We need to move on.”
I watch them and think about the season. And Liam is right; we need to keep moving. I mean, shit, the franchise is already shifting its weight toward the spring draft. It’s just a weird feeling to go from busting ass for months to just stopping. It can make your head spin.
But the sting of the loss is a little bitter for me, too, because I missed Thanksgiving and Christmas with my family.
It’s part of the game, but it feels like forever since I’ve seen them all.
The only thing easing the sting of it all is the brown-haired beauty with a sarcastic mouth, who texted me the second our plane touched down after the game.
Eva: Didn’t have a chance to see you after the game. Sorry about the loss. It was a good battle. I’ll come over when I wrap up here.
“Griff is staring off into space again,” Saint says, tossing a roll of athletic tape at me. “What’s the matter, buddy? You thinking about that interior stunt we blew in the first quarter, or are you planning your summer in Texas?”
I catch the next roll of tape he throws, my fingers locking around the canvas. I look up, my eyes sweeping across the three of them—the guys who have held the line with me since the season started in August. “Nah, I’m not thinking about the stunt,” I say, my voice dropping.
Liam stops stacking his shirts, his eyes cutting over to me. He knows the change in my tone better than anyone.
“What’s up, Aston?” Liam asks quietly, leaning his shoulder against the frame of his cubby.
I let out a slow, deep breath, and a small, crooked smile breaks through. “Just thinking about a girl. The one I mentioned to you guys.”
Brody freezes, and he steps closer. “Who? Is it someone I know?”
“Yeah.” I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. I mean, if we’re going to start telling people we’re together, I might as well tell my friends. “It’s Eva.”
“No shit.” Brody cracks a grin. “Griff, you dawg. She’s a boss. I watched her chew out a three-man crew in Dallas because they’d missed a secondary alignment change, and I almost took a knee out of respect.”
I turn my head toward Saint, expecting him to make a comment, but he just leans back, crossing his arms over his chest with a knowing smirk on his lips.
“You seriously didn’t pick up on it?” Saint shakes his head with a low chuckle. “They couldn’t keep their eyes off each other on the sidelines or when we were at Liam and Alie’s for dinner.”
“Wait, what? You knew?” Brody snaps, looking between us. “And nobody told me?”
“I suspected something was going on with him, but I didn’t know about Eva either, buddy,” Liam says, patting Brody on the shoulder.
“We’ve been keeping it to ourselves,” I say, cutting through their ribbing. “She’s everything, man. We just had to keep it quiet because of her career and goals and the fact that I’m a player. But we’re done keeping it a secret.”
Liam is watching me, and a slow grin spreads across his face. He steps over to me, and his hand comes down on my shoulder. “I’m happy for you, man. She’s a good one. She’s tough enough to handle the noise that comes with her family name, and I’m sure she’s tough enough to handle you.”
“Thanks, brother,” I say, nodding.
“So, it’s really happening. I’m happy for you,” Saint says, nodding.
“Yeah, I mean, she needs to talk to her dad, and it’s a little complicated on my end, too, so we just want to do it clean,” I explain.
“Smart,” Liam says firmly. “A lot of pressure goes along with someone with a family like hers.”
The door of the locker room clicks open, and we look over to see Alie and Presley walking in. They’re both carrying a box and Stanleys with the Titans logo on them.
Alie sets her box down on Liam’s bench. “Here’s that box, babe.” She tilts her head up, and he leans down to kiss her. “What are you guys talking about? We could hear you guys in the hallway, and then you stopped talking when we came in.”
“Our boy here is seeing someone we all know,” Brody announces, pointing a finger at me like a kid on a playground. “He’s been dating Eva. Sneaky little shit.”
Presley stops next to Saint, her eyes darting from Brody to me, a huge smile breaking across her face. She twines her arm with her husband’s, then looks back at me. “You finally told them about Eva?”
Brody blinks at her. “You knew?”
“Vaughn, please,” Presley scoffs, her tone laced with sisterly amusement. “I know everything that happens on that sideline. And I listen when people think no one’s listening.”
Alie lets out a laugh and joins in. “I’m really happy for you, Aston. I kind of knew too. It wasn’t a coincidence that I invited her to dinner.”
“I caught on to that, Al.” I laugh, and my chest expands with a massive wave of pride and relief that it’s not just a secret anymore.
“Well, we should have another dinner,” Alie declares, tapping her fingers against Liam’s cubby wall. “And this time, you guys can sit next to each other so you don’t have to make eyes across the table.”
“Seriously, how did I not see this?” Brody pouts.
I look at him and snicker. “Don’t take it personally, Vaughn.”
“I’m—” His phone buzzing on the shelf in his cubby interrupts him. He picks it up, then starts to gather his belongings. “They can toss whatever’s left in here. I gotta run. I’ll talk to you guys later.”
And then he’s out the door before any of us can ask questions.
Ten minutes later, the locker room is cleared out for the most part. Saint went down to the equipment room to return something. And Alie and Presley are both looking at something together on Alie’s phone, smiling.
Liam pulls on his jacket slowly and looks over his shoulder to where his wife is, and then his eyes cut back to me.
“Aston,” he says, his voice dropping, “you good with all this? Her father isn’t just an executive. He owns the whole board. Could be a lot of pressure on you. Her family dynamic is not like yours.”
“Yeah, I know. But I trust her to handle it the way she needs to with her dad.” I shrug.
“Okay.” Liam nods. “But have you told your family yet? Ace?” He pauses, his eyes searching my face intensely.
I shake my head and look down, then look back at him. “No,” I rasp. “I haven’t told any of them yet.”
Liam’s eyebrows pull together. “Aston, you have to tell them.”
“I know, and I’ll handle it as soon as she tells her dad.” Frustration seeps into my voice.
I stand and face him, my expression unyielding. “Can you do me a favor and not mention it to Archie?” I ask. “I want to handle it. I don’t want my family hearing it from anyone but me.”
Liam stares at me for a second, then nods slowly. “All right. My lips are sealed,” he says. “But don’t wait too long. You know I don’t keep things from your brother. He’s my best friend. My family.”
“I will, I promise,” I say, the words heavy in my throat. “Just let us get through this week and let her talk to her dad.”