Turning, I walked to the door and opened it. “I’m sure we’ll see one another. Let’s not mention this.”
“I want to fucking scream it from the fifty-yard line.” He stepped into the hallway.
“You played great today, Fin. I’m glad you’re on our team.”
Fin nodded.
I remembered something else. “What you asked earlier, about the sidelines…” I nodded. “I was having the time of my life. I guess this day has been a whirlwind of emotions.”
While Fin looked as if he was about to reply, I closed the door. As soon as it was locked, I rubbed my sore wrists, leaned against the door, and sighed. I didn’t even realize my cheeks were damp with tears until I made my way through the large empty condo toward my bedroom, more accurately, my garden tub.
My bubble bath was calling.
CHAPTER 21
Fin
Monday morning, I stuffed my shit into my locker space before making my way to the film room. Akin to a movie theater, the large film room had enough seats for the entire team. That wasn’t where I was supposed to be. My stop would be in the offensive film review, a smaller theater room down the hallway. Entering near the back, my gaze met offensive coordinator Drew Pratt’s. He offered me a clipped nod.
Did he know about Tilson wanting to speak to me?
His expression only said to take a seat.
The room filled as Coach Tilson, Coach Garcia, and the other offensive-position coaches congregatedin the front of the room. Without appearing obvious, I searched for any sign of Vee. The sight of her vivid green eyes and the taste of her sweet lips from last night were on repeat in my dreams. Waking didn’t seem to slow the memories. If I thought about the way she moaned when I spread my fingers over her soft skin beneath her top, I’d get hard in a room full of testosterone.
Corden Young, an offensive tackle, took the seat to my side. He had six years in the league, and this was his third with the Coopers. “Good game, yesterday.”
“Thanks for keeping me safe.”
Corden scoffed. “That shiner you’re sporting doesn’t look like we did that good of a job.”
Gingerly, I lifted my fingers to my cheek, below my left eye. “Looks worse than it feels.”
The seats were filling as he lowered his voice. “News about Dennison?”
Pressing my lips together, I shook my head. “Nothing since yesterday. I spoke to him after the news conference. He sounded positive. I’m sure they’re going to let us know.”
A hand came to my shoulder from behind. A quick crane of my neck and I saw JD’s smile. “Good to work together again.”
JD’s light green eyes contrasted with his dark complexion. It was his constant smile and ready laughthat I’d missed. “Missed you, too. I’m here until Dennison can take back his place.”
“Quiet,” Coach Tilson said from the front. “The injury report hasn’t been finalized yet.” He lifted his hand to keep us quiet. “I know everyone’s wondering about Dennison. The official diagnosis is a grade-one concussion and neck sprain.” His eyes came to me. “Fin will be starting next Sunday in Denver.”
It was difficult to describe the feeling registering in my gut.
I’d be lying if I didn’t like hearing my name on the starting lineup. On the other hand, this was my thirteenth season in the NFL. I’d been mowed down by some of the league’s best defensive players. The ache in my body as I woke this morning told me that I was meant to step aside for the younger and healthier class.
“The Coopers’ plane will leave Thursday afternoon an hour after practice ends. Be ready. We don’t wait. As our veterans know, they don’t call Denver ‘mile-high stadium’ for nothing. Stadium ops have worked out two days of practice in Denver to get you used to breathing the thinner air. Now, we’re not going to spend a lot of time rewatching Packard’s hit on Troy. I would, however, like us to watch one time, not to analyze the hit, but to look at our O line. Could we have prevented it?”
Corden bristled and murmured under his breath.
“The hit was late,” Drew Pratt interjected. “We’renot assigning blame. Packard shouldn’t have been still targeting. If any of you guards or tackles had stopped him, you would have been called for a late hit. Nevertheless, this is an opportunity for us to evaluate the possibilities.”
When the film review of the game was over, I headed to Coach Tilson’s office. “The coach wanted to see me, Griffin Graham,” I said to his assistant.
She picked up the phone. When she hung up, she shook her head. “Coach Tilson is busy right now and said not to worry about it. Everything worked out.”
“All right.” Turning, I let out a breath.
