Chapter 22
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Liam
Monday rolls around, and it’s media day. The facility feels louder. Even from the outside.
More … alive. Almost like game days.
The buzz in the air hits me the second I walk through the doors. Cameras. Staff running around. Equipment carts loaded with jerseys and banners.
It’s a controlled type of chaos that I typically thrive in.
I nod to people as I make my way through the traffic and head down to the locker room. Before I even open the door, I can hear Aston Griffith.
“They seriously can’t expect me to smile for a hundred photos without being properly caffeinated,” he says loudly in his thick Texas accent.
I can’t help but smile as I walk into the room.
Aston is leaning against his station like the room exists solely for his commentary. He might be a rookie, but he’ll be one of our starting defensive players this year. He’s a walking highlight reel. Equal parts talent, ego, and charm.
When he spots me, a huge grin spreads across his face. “There he is. Mr. Prime Time.”
“Don’t start.” I laugh, shaking my head.
“Too late. What’s got you all smiley this morning?” He walks to me and gives me a hug.
“I’m not extra smiley. Same as always.”
“Uh, you sure it doesn’t have something to do with a particular lady?”
I lean in, whispering, “What are you talking about?”
“I mean”—he lowers his voice—“I think there’s something you need to tell me.”
Shit. What did Archie tell him?
I called Archie last night to tell him about Seraphina. He was shocked and angry on my behalf for the time I missed, but he’s really happy for me, and he wants to come meet them both soon.
And because the Griffiths all talk on a daily basis, I have to assume Archie told them all the news. And I don’t mind; everyone will know soon enough. I just … need to do this the right way.
“I don’t have anything to tell you.” I shrug.
He smirks. “Okay, sure.”
Before I can respond, our defensive captain, Wyatt St. Clair—otherwise known as Saint—tosses a towel at Aston’s head.
“Save the gossip for after practice, Griffith,” he says. “We need to be on the field in ten.”
Saint is a steady kind of guy and built like a brick wall. A true leader on and off the field. He’s the perfect balance for Aston’s personality.
“Pitz,” he says, holding his hand out to me, smirking. “Glad you could make it, man.”
“Thanks.” I shake his hand, smiling. “Don’t think I had the option to miss it.”
Behind him, one of our tight ends, Brody Vaughn, jogs over, and we also shake hands.
“Media team is already out there,” he says. “They have the drones flying.”
“Gotta love the aerial shots.” I smirk.
“I do. Any angle of me, though, is prime,” Aston chimes in.
We all laugh, and I shake my head. It’s going to be fun playing with him this year. But it does make me miss Archie more than ever.
A few minutes later, I make my way onto the practice field.
Staffers move between camera set ups. Media directs us where to go. Sponsor reps hover like nervous parents at the first game of the season.
And over near the sideline …
Alie and Seraphina.
She’s standing with a clipboard in her hand, talking to Presley and someone wearing a headset, completely in command, while Sera tosses a football into the air, letting it drop, only to pick it up again.
My chest tightens, and I have to fight the urge to run over to her and pick her up, then kiss her mom.
Aston walks over to me and follows my gaze. “Is that her?”
“Aston, not now.”
“She’s why you’re all smiley, isn’t she?” he chides.
“I’m not smiley.”
“Yeah, you are.” He bumps my shoulder with his.
“Shut up.” I bite back a smile.
He grins. “I’m just fucking with you.”
A whistle blows, and we’re directed to an area where some of our coaches are standing.
“All right, listen up!” Coach shouts. “Quick run-through for the media scrimmage. Nothing fancy. Keep it clean. Show some energy. And for the love of football, no one say anything dumb on camera.”
“Define dumb,” someone says.
“Anything you say without thinking.”
“So, I guess I should keep my mouth shut then.” Aston snickers.
Laughter ripples around us.
Even Coach fights a smile.
The scrimmage is light, mostly for show and photos. Once the ball is in play though, my instincts kick in, and it’s hard to keep it casual.
Noise hums around us, and cameras flash.
At the first snap, I see Saint across from me, calling the defense, following my moves.
I take the handoff and fake right, roll left, then scan the field.
Brody’s running down the field, double coverage trailing him, like they already know he’s gonna be trouble.
I launch the ball into the air, creating the perfect arc.
He jumps, snags it in a one-handed catch, and lands on his feet like he planned the play just like this.
Brody makes a show of spinning the ball on the turf and walks over to one of the cameramen. “That’s how you do it, boys.”
I shake my head and laugh.
When I look over toward the sideline, I see Alie standing there smiling. Not a professional, work-mode smile. A real one.
And, yeah, that’s enough to throw my concentration for the next play.
Thirty minutes later, we wrap up on the field and start to rotate through interviews.
When I finish mine, I walk over to the hydration station and grab a bottle of electrolytes.
I look to my left and see Presley reprimanding—politely but firmly—one of the rookie players who got a little rowdy on the field.
Presley seems to be really good at her job. She’s smart and organized, and she isn’t intimidated in the least by anyone, let alone the players. But more than that … she really seems to care about our well-being.
I notice Saint walk up behind her, listening in on her conversation with the rookie.
He’s calm while she talks, his arms folded over his chest. Watching her with a quiet amusement that suggests he’s enjoying this more than he should be.
She finishes her point, turns, and nearly runs right into Saint.
“Oh, sorry.” She places her hands on his chest.
“You’re good,” he says, voice low and steady.
“Did you need something?” She steps back.
“Nope. Just making sure no one steamrolls our schedule today.”
“Uh-huh.” Presley looks at him skeptically. “Right, well, stay hydrated.”
“Will do, Doc,” he says, smiling.
The way he says it makes her pause, but she doesn’t turn around.
Aston walks up and leans in. “Well, well, well.”
“You see that too?” I murmur.
“Oh, I absolutely saw it.” He laughs and rubs his hands together.
“She looked a little flustered when she walked away, yeah?”
“That she did, Pitzy.”
I smack his chest. “Okay, show’s over. Let’s head inside.”
When we get back into the building, I immediately see Alie. She’s bent down in front of Sera, wiping something off her face.
When her eyes meet mine, a spark flashes. Then she stands and clears her throat.
“Liam,” she says evenly. “You’re up for sponsorship photos in five.”
I smile and nod.
“Hi, Liam.” Sera jumps up and down.
I bend down. “Hi, sweetheart. You having fun today?”
“Oh, yes. Football all day.”
“I saw you with that ball earlier. I’d better watch out, or you’ll take my job.” I tip my head to her and smile.
She giggles and covers her mouth with her small hand.
Next to me, Aston nearly chokes, trying not to snicker.
Alie clears her throat and glances at him. “You too, Griffith.”
He straightens. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll see you later?” I stand and look at Alie.
She gives me a subtle nod, and as we pass by her, her fingers brush mine for a half second.
No one would notice if they weren’t watching us closely.
But it’s enough to send a rush right through me because even though we have a lot to work out, I still want her.
Jesus, I feel like a hormonal teenager who can’t control himself. I need to get ahold of this. I can’t be walking around her all the time, half-cocked and confused. And definitely not in front of our daughter.
After photos and more interviews, I head back to the locker room.
Most of the guys are in there already, changing or packing up.
I see Saint sitting at his station with an ice pack wrapped around his knee.
“You good?” I point at the ice.
“Oh, yeah. Doc just wants me to ice it after workouts. I had that surgery on my ACL at the end of last season.”
“That’s right. How’s the recovery going?”
“Right as rain.” He smiles.
“Glad to hear it. We need you out there healthy.”
“I’m primed and ready.”
Next to me, Brody texts with someone.
Then our veteran kicker, Caleb Brooks, walks in like he owns the place.
“You boys looked quite photogenic out there today,” Caleb says.
“Because we are photogenic,” Aston replies.
Saint shakes his head. “One day, that ego of yours is gonna need its own locker.”
“Already does. The one next to you taken?” Aston jokes.
Brody looks between us. “He always like this?”
“Pretty much. But you should see his twin,” I say, laughing.
“Right. I forgot Ace Griffith was his twin.”
“Yep. The whole family is like that though.” I smile. “But I love ’em all.”
“You played with Archie, right?” Saint asks.
“I did. He’s my best friend.”
“Solid.” He nods and starts taking his ice off.
I glance around at my new team. This group … it feels like something that could be special. Makes me anxious to get the season started.
But for now, we prep.
I finish packing up the few things I brought in with me today and say my goodbyes.
As I walk through the building, I catch another glimpse of Alie, but no sign of Sera.
She’s laughing at something Presley said, seeming much more casual than she was earlier.
I notice Saint walk toward her, but he stops and talks to one of the trainers. I don’t miss his eyes flicking over to Presley.
Very interesting. Looks like Presley might have a little secret.
Aston slings his bag over his shoulder as he comes up behind me, wearing a cowboy hat.
“You heading out?” he asks.
“Yeah. You?”
He nods. “You got any dinner plans?”
I pause and look over at Alie. “Not tonight, no.”
Aston smirks. “Okay, buddy. Come by, and I’ll show you my place before we eat.”
“You here in Jersey or the city?”
“Here. You know I’m not a city boy. I need to have space.” He tips his hat and winks.
“Right. I’ll text you later when I’m on my way.”
He walks away and holds his hand in the air in goodbye.
With one last look at Alie, I walk out of the building into the late afternoon sun.
As I make my way over to the car, where Joey is waiting for me, one thing is clear to me: this season isn’t just about football anymore.