Chapter 12
CHAPTER
TWELVE
PRESENT
Liam
When my agent called me with the news that New York offered me a contract for three years, forty million guaranteed, I couldn’t get on the plane fast enough.
As much as I appreciate the fans in New Orleans and the organization, I just never felt like the city was the best fit for me.
So, when they fired the offensive coordinator (OC) after we lost in the playoffs, I took my out.
Thank God my agent had added that little caveat to my contract.
In New York, I know I can be an asset to this team. They’ve had a losing record for the past two years, and they’re equally hungry for a change in leadership on the field. And I’m the perfect guy to fill the role.
Not to mention, I know a few guys on the team, and, hell, my best friend’s little brother just got drafted by the Titans in the NFL Draft last week. Aston Griffith will be one of my teammates, and I couldn’t be happier. He’s like a little brother to me, too, so it’ll be fun playing with him.
I’m meeting with team management today at the training facility in New Jersey. Since I got an apartment in Midtown Manhattan, in the Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood, and my car hasn’t arrived from New Orleans yet, the team sent me a car.
As we exit the Lincoln Tunnel, entering New Jersey, I turn around and see the city behind us. I snap a selfie and open my group text with my buddies from Walker University.
Liam: Bright lights, big city, bitches.
Casey: Look at you, Rookie of the Year. Is that a gold necklace?
Beck: He’s gotta spend that money on somethin’.
I am, in fact, wearing a gold chain, but I know they’re just playing with me. I won NFL Rookie of the Year at the end of my first season, and they’re still teasing me about it. And they both have high-paying contracts. None of us is hurting for money—that’s for sure.
Archie: My guy. City looks good on you.
Liam: I agree. I think this was a great move for me.
Archie: You’re gonna light that place up.
Liam: You know it. When does Aston get in?
Archie: Uhh, I think next week sometime.
He’s home right now, getting all his shit organized.
With Ace going off to a different team, this is gonna be a big change for them.
They’ve never lived apart, so you’ll need to keep an eye on him for me.
Aiden’s home, too, so we’re getting some quality family time in.
Liam: I don’t think Aston is the one you need to worry about. Ace will tear it up in Florida.
Casey: I was just about to say …
Beck: Nah, Acer will be just fine.
Archie: They’ll both be fine. So, you just have a meeting today and a tour, or what? I assume Scotty boy is with you?
Liam: Yeah, I guess so. Scott is meeting me there. I think I need to meet with the medical staff, too, and get some initial weigh-ins and tests done for baseline numbers. Probably looking at being here most of the day.
Archie: Coach Andrews is a good coach. I think you’ll work well with him.
Liam: Yeah, and Tully is one of the best OCs in the league, so hopefully, we’ll have a winning season this year.
Beck: I gotta run, boys. The boss is calling. Her pregnancy cravings are out of control.
Casey: Feed my sister before she gets hangry.
Archie: I need to run, too, but text me later and let me know how it went.
Liam: We’re about to pull up to the building anyway. Talk to you guys later.
I close out the text thread and pocket my phone as we pull up to the entrance.
I see my agent, Scott; the general manager, Tom Gardner; and Coach Andrews waiting for me just outside the doors. When I start to open my door, the driver stops me.
“I’ll get the door for you, Mr. Pitz.”
I wave him off. “I’m good. Thank you for the ride.”
“I’ll be here to take you back into the city when you’re done for the day. They’ll notify me when you’re wrapping up.”
“Thanks.” I hold out my hand.
“Name’s Joey.” He shakes my hand in return.
“I’ll see you later then, Joey.”
“We’re lucky to have you here, sir.” He gives me a broad smile.
“I appreciate that. I’m excited to be here.” I nod, then exit the car.
“Hey, buddy.” Scott leans in for a one-armed side hug.
“Hey, Scott.” I give him a few sturdy taps on the back.
“Liam, how was the ride in?” Tom asks, reaching for my hand to shake.
“Faster than I thought it would be.” I chuckle.
“Depends on what time of day you head out, but now the traffic isn’t too bad. When you head this way on game days, make sure you check the traffic reports.” He smirks.
“I’m always early to the field anyway, so it shouldn’t be a problem.” I turn to Coach. “Good to see you, Coach.”
“Pitz.” He nods with a smile. “We’re ready to get the ball rolling.”
“So, let me give you a rundown of what we’re doing today.
We’re going to meet with the owners, some members of the management team, and staff.
Then we’ll give you a tour of the facility and take you down to the trainers so they can get your vitals and baseline numbers, if you’re okay with getting started today.
Lunch will be brought into our meeting with management, so I hope you’re hungry.
” Tom glances over his shoulder at Scott, then back to me and smiles.
“I can always eat. And it sounds like a full day, but I’m ready to get started.”
“Excellent. Mr. Grant is looking forward to meeting you and spending some time with you today. You’ve spoken on the phone, right?”
“Yes, he called me after I signed my contract. Same day I spoke with you actually.”
I look around as we walk. There are photos of past and present players lining the hallway in a mural-type display.
Trophy cases with playoff awards reflect the dynasty of this organization, and—I’ll be honest—I have chills right now.
This is one of the oldest teams in the league, kept within the same family, and they wanted me.
“Right.” Tom breaks my thoughts. “Here we are then.”
He opens a glass door, and I notice about ten people sitting around an oblong table.
Most of them are men, but there are three women also.
One of them is sitting next to James Grant, the owner, and the other two are sitting to the left of him.
The woman closest to him is wearing team gear, like one of the medical staff would wear, but she resembles the older woman, so I’m guessing there is a connection.
And she’s kind of glaring at me, clearly not impressed.
The other woman has her head down, and her hair hangs around her, so I can’t see her face.
James stands and walks toward us, hand out in greeting. “Liam Pitz. It’s a pleasure to meet you. We’re looking forward to watching you take our team to the show this year.” He chuckles, but he’s not kidding. “Good to see you too, Scott.”
“Sir, Mr. Grant, thank you for the opportunity. I’m excited to be here.” I shake his hand and smile, nodding at some of the others around the table.
“Call me James. We’re a pretty laid-back bunch. Let me introduce you to my family first. Then we’ll get to the rest of the suits,” he says with a smile.
I glance to the women, now guessing these ladies are members of his family.
Scott is already talking to some of the guys at the table, so I follow behind James without him.
“This gorgeous lady is my wife, Kate.” He wraps an arm around her when she stands to shake my hand.
“Liam, it’s so nice to meet you finally. I’ve been hearing all about you these last few weeks.” She has a smile that lights up a room and looks vaguely familiar.
“Thank you, Mrs. Grant. Hopefully, the chatter will die down now that I’m here.”
“Like my husband said, we’re a laid-back family. Call me Kate,” she says, taking her seat.
James walks to the other two ladies. “This is my oldest daughter, Presley. She’s the lead physician on staff, so she’ll be taking you down later for your intake numbers.”
Presley doesn’t stand. I wonder if it’s me or if she’s like this with all the players.
She doesn’t even fully turn her body.
She just looks at me from where she’s seated, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, pen poised mid-air, like I’ve interrupted something more important.
Her eyes drag over me—slow, assessing—not in admiration. In evaluation.
I can’t tell if she’s sizing me up or stripping me for parts.
“Nice to meet you, Presley.” I nod, but she continues to glare at me.
“Hmm.”
That’s it.
No smile. No handshake. No attempt at warmth.
Her attention drops back to her tablet, as if I’ve already been categorized and filed away.
James clears his throat like he’s trying to smooth the moment over. “Presley runs a tight ship.”
Yeah. Tight is one word for it. What the fuck is her deal?
“And this one here with her nose stuck in the books is my youngest daughter, Aliette. She’s the mastermind behind the finances. Alie is our director of football administration—or salary cap manager, if you will.” He chuckles.
When Aliette finally looks up, I nearly fall over. It’s her. My Alie. The woman I’ve been thinking about for two fucking years. The woman who walked out on me without an explanation or any trace.
All these years, I tried to get information about her. Looked up every Allison, Alessandra, Alice, Alissa, Alexa … and here she is. Aliette.
I tried to get her number from Aaron, even came to New York and met up with him, but he told me she wasn’t interested and eventually stopped replying to my texts. Asshole.
Alie stands. “Mr. Pitz, welcome to New York.” There’s a slight hitch to her voice.
So … I guess she’s pretending not to know me. Awesome.
I hold my gaze on her, willing her to look me in the eye. “Please call me Liam.” Christ, I sound like I’m going through puberty. She does look at me then, just briefly. Long enough to acknowledge I spoke. Long enough to make my pulse misfire.
She gives me a closed-mouth smile and takes her seat.
Her expression mirrors Presley’s in structure. Composed and unreadable. But the energy is different.
Where Presley makes no effort to hide her disdain, lets it sit openly in her stare like a warning sign, Alie keeps hers tucked away. Controlled. Contained. Guarded.
Like she’s protecting something. Or someone.
Her fingers lace together in her lap. Her shoulders square. Calm. Professional.
But her eyes flicker once—quick, almost imperceptible—like she’s measuring how much of herself she’s willing to give away.
Presley looks at me like she’s already made a judgment.
Alie looks at me like she’s afraid she might.
And somehow, that’s worse.
The rest of the introductions around the table are made as I’m led to my seat next to Scott at the other end of the table. I can’t tell you who any of these people are because my head is spinning.
My Alie is Aliette Grant. Essentially, she’s one of my new bosses.
I knew there were family members involved in the organization, but funny enough, I’ve never seen pictures of Alie or her sister in the press.
There must be a reason for that, although I never looked into the family in depth.
Most of the information I got about the Grants and the Titans was from my agent.
He failed to mention the daughters’ roles in the company though.
There’s no way I’m gonna let her get out of telling me why she ran off on me two years ago. I just need to get her alone.
I lean toward Scott. “You didn’t tell me his daughters were on the staff.”
“Don’t even think about it, Pitz,” he grits out with a smile.
“Too late. I know one of them.”
“Pitz, I’m telling you, don’t fuck this up.” He looks down at the binder in front of him and opens it. “Gentlemen, shall we sign some paperwork?”
I look away from Scott, back down at Alie, and see her speaking closely with her sister. Presley looks up and catches me and places her hand on Alie’s arm.
Alie doesn’t look at me, but instead picks up her pen and flips through some papers in her own binder.
“Let’s get to it. I have a date tonight with my lovely wife, and we need to get back to the city before traffic becomes a problem.” James leans over and kisses his wife’s temple.
I notice she doesn’t make a move to leave, so she must also be involved in the team's inner workings.
Scott hands me a pen.
“Thanks,” I mumble, then open my own binder.
The meeting goes by in a haze. Lunch is served, but I don’t eat a bite. And as soon as we’re done, Alie takes off without a goodbye. Joke’s on her though. She won’t be able to run from me forever.