Chapter 16
Nik
I left Noelle at my place, secure in the fact that no one can get to her.
For added measure, I spoke with Dante, and he assigned one of his guys to my building.
So although I'm feeling mostly fine about leaving her, the second I walk into the locker room, something’s shifted.
The guys are quieter than usual, and I get a couple of sideways looks.
There are too many conversations that cut off when I walk past, and I’m sure the words “rookie isn’t ready” and “rookie got lucky” pass their lips more than once.
And more importantly? Rookie is a cheat.
The fact that Trevor even sat for an interview is a red flag. There are too many loose ends that are beginning to unravel and too many old ghosts that are still floating around.
I fake a smile, drop my gym bag in the usual spot, and head for the trainers’ table like I don’t feel the heat pressing in from every direction.
My body aches, same as it always does after a game, but it’s my head that’s louder.
It screams regret, shame. It screams you’re a liar, and everyone is going to find out.
I work with my trainer, letting him ease out the tension as best he can before we all sit in on game tape.
We have another big game this week and can’t afford to just skate by, as we did last week.
I’ve worked all my life to be in this position right now, but I have no one to blame but myself for letting it affect me.
As we start to filter out of the room, Coach Gage pulls me aside.
“Let’s go to my office.” I nod and follow him down the hall, trying not to make eye contact with any of my team. I’ve seen this walk a hundred times and know what it means.
He’s going to bench me.
We enter his office, and he turns and leans against his desk, nodding to the door. “Shut it, have a seat.”
I close the door quietly, swallowing hard as I sit in the chair in front of him.
He doesn’t yell, that’s not him. But the quiet, disappointed tone? That lands harder. “You okay, Papas?”
I nod quickly, digging into the Saint persona. In here? I’m a football player, and I need to remind myself of that. Until something more is questioned, I stick to that. “Yeah. Just a rough game.”
He doesn’t buy it. “You don’t get to have rough games right now. Not with how much we’ve built this brand around you.”
Brand.
Not team. Not player. Not person.
Brand.
I swallow the bitterness climbing up inside me.
“I know we expected a lot out of you right out the gate, but that's what we do here. Zach Hart and I wanted you here, and we worked hard with Dane to make sure it happened. But we don’t give away big contracts for dropped passes. We signed you because you were the best of the best on your team.”
I remember getting the call from Zach Hart.
He was a top recruiter at South Carolina University when I was in high school, and my sister said he had been watching me.
But when it came time to decide on a college, he only offered a free ride to me.
And we three Nicks were determined to stay together.
I passed on the offer, always thinking I made a huge mistake.
My sister would often remind me of that mistake.
“You know we both watched your skill and saw potential for more. We wanted you five years ago, Nik.”
“Funny how I ended up here anyway, huh?”
He grins. “Not by chance. My wife told me I'd be a complete dumbass if I passed on you on draft night.”
I smile. Coach’s wife, Francesca Gage, runs Love PR, a play on her maiden name, Casanova.
She represented Jameson Winters in college and got him signed to the SC Warriors, Jackson's old team. And once that was in place, it wasn’t long before Jackson was offered the head coaching spot here.
Together, they're an empire running the sports world.
“You started out strong. But as the pressure builds, I’m seeing something different. You have to rely on new guys now, Nik. You don’t have your safety net, and I’m hoping that isn’t going to be a problem going forward.”
I lean back, hating that he’s right, but knowing it’s nothing to do with them. “In other words, my friends only made me look good.”
“I’m not saying that. But I need you here.
Focused.” He sighs and scrubs his hand over his face.
“I know it was two bad drops, and I know you caught the one that mattered. But what if we didn’t have that third attempt?
That’s what I'm pressing home here, Nik. This is the big leagues, kid. There’s no red shirting here, no do-over senior year.
You still want to step on that field? You want a ring?
Every fucking drive matters.” He accentuates each word with a hand clap, and I jump in my seat with each one.
I feel his eyes on me, and I look away. I don't know what to say.
“There’s chatter in the locker room," Coach Gage says, lowering his voice and crossing his arms in front of him. “You know I don't stand for that shit. I’ve addressed it where it started, but I need you to promise me that if something is said, you don't react. This season is too important, and I don’t need the press blowing something up that isn’t there. We stay focused, together. Understand?”
“Understood.”
I want to ask what kind of chatter. I want to know if it’s just about the team not feeling they can trust me on the field after those drops, or if my past is leaking into the locker room, but Coach pushes from the desk, and that’s my cue to leave.
I stand, and he claps me on the shoulder.
“You’re a good kid, Papas. Keep riding this straight and narrow.
You’re too good to blow your chance like I did. ”
He’s looking me straight in the eye, and I feel the sincerity in his voice. It’s both encouraging and humbling because underneath all the shit, I know he’s right. I know if I can just stay true to myself, I can make this last.
But sometimes, I don’t even know who I am anymore.
~~
My phone buzzes as I drive the backroads back to my condo. It’s my sister, and I know I have to pick up and talk to her; if I don’t, she’ll just keep calling. I press the speaker, and her voice fills my truck.
“Hey, Eva.”
“Nik, who is this reporter?”
I grip the wheel tight. “The Warriors PR thought it'd be a good idea to do a legacy piece. Show off Saint Nik, use it to open up more contracts.”
“Drop her. Pull out of this story now.”
Her voice is firm, almost to the point of chastisement. “Eva, I can’—”
“You can. She’s too close.”
I furrow my brows. “Too close?”
“You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?”
I huff. “This is why I didn’t sign with you. You can’t separate personal versus business, and you damn sure don’t get to ask who I take to bed.”
She lets out a breath. “Nik, you’re my baby brother.
Of course I can’t separate personal and business.
” She says it, and I instantly feel bad.
She’s right: we’re family, no matter how close or not close we work in the same industry.
Neither one of us was living at home at the time it all came to a head with my dad.
But once I paid the debt with that game, he disappeared, leaving Mom behind.
None of us know where he ended up, and I made it a point to play along with not knowing why he left to begin with.
And, honestly, I really don’t know why he left.
It was over. I fixed it for him, and for all I know now, he’s dead.
Eva was the one who returned home, took the time to stay with Mom, and helped her rebuild. Eva told me I needed to concentrate on getting to the top. And so I did. I used my first signing bonus and bought my mom a new home. We didn’t want her stuck in the same spot where she lost everything.
But I never told her what I did to make sure dad made it out from under that trouble.
“I’m sorry. I just worry, Nik. You’ve worked so hard to get where you’re at just to have some jersey chaser want to use you to build her story.”
“And so have you.” I sigh. “I can handle this. Don’t get your name mixed up here. We split for a reason, right?”
We always said it'd be better not to show nepotism, but I also knew if anything came up, I wouldn’t want her mixed up with my mess.
She sighs. “Yeah, well, sometimes you have to make a hard call for family, right?”
If that sentence doesn’t describe my entire life. “Right. Listen, it’s going to be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Hm,” she hums into the phone. “Just don't get blinded by a good blow job, Warrior.”
I chuckle. “I’ll try to control myself.”
“Bye, Nik.”
“Bye, Eva.”
I end the call and pull into the underground parking garage. As I park, a thought crosses my mind.
How did Eva know about Noelle?
I never told her about the piece, and no articles have been published.
I get out of my truck, grab my gym bag, and sling it over my shoulder, shaking the thoughts away.
Eva knows everything PR-related. She was probably just approached to be part of the interviews, but then why wouldn’t Noelle tell me that?