Grey grumbles.
“Don’t you dare say, ‘I told you so,’” Wolf warns.
“Come on, we’ve done worse.” Declan shrugs.
“Guys, Elyse was there,” I say, referring to Starkowsky’s daughter.
She’s a grown woman and a reporter. She’s spent a lot of time in the locker room pre- and post-game and has certainly seen her share of football players in various stages of dress, having been around the team her entire life. However, she’s still someone’s daughter.
“It’s the principle. Would you want your daughter to see our backsides?” I ask.
“He has a point,” Grey says.
“We don’t have daughters,” Wolf says.
“You know what I mean,” I hiss.
Unlike the other guys, I’d like to settle down, get married, and have daughters and sons someday. Someday soon, if I have any say in the matter.
The duration of a football player’s career isn’t all that long—Grey being an exception. After our next Super Bowl win, when reporters ask me to look into the crystal ball and predict the future, I’d like to answer that I’m retiring because I’m starting a family.
Declan’s laugh reminds me that at this rate, I’ll surpass Grey in seasons played.
Coach Hammer gets off the phone. We each have our apologies at the ready, but Hammer holds up his massive hand, indicating we save it for someone who’ll tolerate excuses.
He gets to his feet and starts pacing along the bank of windows overlooking the practice field. “I understand the pranks are part of the game, the camaraderie, and the glue that holds the team together in some ways. But you went too far. I’ve had a lot of heat coming down from up high lately about your—” He turns his hand in a circle. “About your antics.”
Wolf lifts and lowers his shoulders. “Oh, come on, we were just having fun. We thought it was just going to be Brandon, not the commish.”
“Elyse was mortified.” Coach practically growls.
“More like the commish was mortified,” Wolf says.
Hammer tilts his head at ashut upangle. “Connor.” Given his tone, I’m surprised he doesn’t add Wolf’s middle name to his given one.
Wolf instantly stands down. Coach Hammer is the only person I’ve ever seen who is slightly capable of taming the wild in him.
“I need you to understand what is appropriate and what goes over the line,” Hammer says.
I nod, nerves zipping.
“Filling someone’s car with balloons? Harmless. Coating the inside of a locker with molasses? Amusing. Stealing all the toilet paper rolls and removing them from the building?” Hammer winces. “Mooning the commissioner, his daughter, our newest player, and a bunch of officials?”
“Hilarious,” Wolf says, only loud enough so we can hear.
“Boys, there are consequences.”
“A fine?” Wolf asks. “I’ll pay for it. Whatever.”
“Penalty?” Declan says.
“Community service?” I ask.
Grey’s silence suggests it’ll be worse. Much worse.
“No, you’re going to finishing school,” Hammer says.
All at once, there’s a flurry of questions and confusion, namely that it’s some kind of joke. Wolf barks a laugh. My mouth remains closed.
