Laughing, I push him. “Fuck you. I’m a gentleman with women, especially sisters.” I wink at the camera. “What teammate would I not want to date my sister? JD,” I say, naming our cornerback, then shoot another smile at the social media manager. “Sorry about the cursing.”
“It’s fine. We’ll bleep it out. All part of the Camden Long persona, right?”
“Right,” I say with a forced laugh. That same persona I’ve been trying to drop.
Erik and I head into the locker room to shower and change. We have our first preseason game coming up, a chance to seewhat the rookies can do and for the veterans to stretch our legs. While the team has been jiving well at training camp, I can’t seem to shake the extra emotional weight I’m carrying. It’s like running with chains on my ankles. I’m moving but in slow motion.
Coach reminded me twice about seeing the counselor, and Erik even offered to go to the appointment with me, but I can’t.
Because if I ever let it all out, I might never recover.
Fearing the yawning hole I’m desperate to crawl out of would only grow wider if I admitted everything out loud.
So, thanks, but no thanks.
After dressing and looping my duffel bag over my shoulder, I round the corner of the locker room door, only to run right into Malcolm. “How the hell did you get back here?”
“Nice to see you too. I’m doing well, thank you for asking.”
I stare blandly at him, waiting for his answer.
He shrugs. “You shouldn’t be surprised the front desk is happy to give me the necessary credentials so I can rein in their favorite troublemaker.”
I start walking out to the private parking lot, knowing he’ll tag along at my side. “I haven’t been making any trouble lately.”
“Yes, and I’d like to keep it that way, which is why I’m here to check in. We’re lifting the media embargo on you, so you’ll be doing press, and youwillbe on your best behavior.”
I offer him a salute as I hit the key fob to unlock my car. “Anything else?”
“Yes.” He blocks me from opening my door. He studies me with a tilted head, his off-white suit a contrast to his brown skin, and I’m not sure how he can stand it in this heat. I motion for him to get on with it, and as always, he takes his time, careful with his words. “How is Paisley?”
“She’s good.” I chuck my bag into the trunk. “Really good.”
“And you?”
“Good.”
I don’t think he believes me, but he nods anyway. “As muchas I enjoyed our time together this year, I don’t want to have to go back to babysitting duty.”
“I thought you were myassistant,” I say, repeating his oft-told lie.
Even though he’d been hired to follow me around and keep me out of trouble, he did really help me out in my hour of need. The guy knows how to deal with tough situations and communicate with people from all walks of life. It takes a special talent to keep a level head when emotions are high. I would know because I’m not all that good at it. But he has the ability to take in the storm around him and settle the waves.
“I’ve been meaning to thank you,” I say, swallowing my pride. “For everything you did for me. It’s… I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to pay you back.”
A genuine smile unfurls across his features. “I was happy to help you, and the way you can pay me back is to keep your head down. Prove to the media that you are the person I know and not the arrogant prick they think you are.”
I huff. Before, his words would have bounced off my armor. Thepersona. Now, they stick to me like the cotton of my shirt. I wish I could peel them off, but I can’t. I am still an arrogant prick.
Hell, part of me wants to tell Malcolm to piss off andI’ll do what I want, but there is another part, a bigger one, that knows I can’t. I can’t fuck up again.
I can’t keep letting my worst instincts take over, when I have my sister waiting for me at home. A reputation that will now affect her.
As much as it would be so easy to pretend nothing bothers me and hide behind parties and lavish trips, for once, I like doing the hard thing—I love being with my sister.
“We’ve already been contacted about a special sit-down interview. It’s totally up to you, but I wanted to run that by you and let you think about it. We don’t need the answer right away.” Malcolm scrolls over his cell phone. “Also, I have a list ofquestions you can expect to be asked at your press calls. I wrote up some answers that I’m sending to you right now, so if you don’t like them, rewrite them with your thoughts and send it back to me. I just don’t want you going off the cuff.”
I suspected all of this was coming, that the press would eventually circle like sharks. Drama sells, and I’ve created a lot of drama on my own. Add in this sad story? I’m sure they’ve already written up the pieces. They’re merely waiting to hit publish.
