“Shit!”
There’s a loud crack outside of the training facility that makes my body coil together. I’ve been able to hear the rain for hours, but the addition of booming thunder is new and jolts me out of my daze as I’m taking a knee on the sidelines.
Practicing indoors is never something I enjoy, I always prefer our outdoor field since it helps prepare me for the most realistic conditions during an actual game. But with the way the rain has been coming down all day, there was really no other option but to bring it inside.
The thunder cracks again as I pick my helmet up from the ground and stand. My knees ache with each step I take. Some days, my body makes me think I’m getting too old for this game, but my mind swiftly tells the achy joints to suck it up.
I feel lucky that in all my years playing football—college and high school included—I’ve never had an injury so bad that it tookme out for multiple games. Sure, I’ve experienced bumps and bruises, a pulled muscle or two. Hell, if you’re not getting beat up on the field, you’re probably not doing your job. And doing our job is the one thing that Coach Aarons drills into us each day. In the last couple of years—he’s become less tolerant of bullshit and a lot more business-minded. I get it, at the end of the day this is a business, it’s just a shift from previous years where he seemed to be more lenient.
A quiet groan leaves my chest when I look ahead, noticing two of the interns at the double doors that lead out of the indoor facility and into the main building. They both stand there, eagerly waiting for each of us to walk by, holding their tiny microphone right outside the doors. Another day, another ridiculous question they poll us on for the Knights social media page.
I understand a social media presence is important for a team, but the media side is the one thing about this life I can’t fucking stand. I’m not showy and I have zero interest in making myself into some internet click bait story. It’s nothing against the girls who make the posts, I’m sure they’re all nice enough, it’s merely a me thing. Sometimes, I can skirt by them and get in unnoticed. When we’re outside it’s so much easier, but these doors are the only way in and way out.
“What have you got for us today?” Liam Evans, our quarterback, asks, smiling at the two wide eyed interns, and they blush at the sound of his voice.
One of the girls clears her throat before she speaks, but her voice cracks a bit and she giggles before starting over. It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.
Women are constantly tongue-tied around Liam Evans. He’s a handsome guy, tall and a great athlete, so I suppose I get it. He’s the kind of guy who likes to take up space, he enjoys being the one people talk about. Going out and being in the spotlightis something he thrives off of, the exact opposite of myself. He doesn’t even have to say much; his game can speak for itself, honestly. It amazes me sometimes that we’re actually friends—good friends—because half the time when he talks I want to knock his teeth in. He reminds me of the little brother I never had.
“Who on the team would you let date your sister?” the short redhead asks when she regains her composure. She then points the microphone at me and Liam awaiting our reply. My head shakes back and forth just as Ford, my brother-in-law and teammate, walks up behind me.
“Yeah, Hunt, who on the team would you let date your sister?” Ford gives me a shove before he walks by, able to bypass the question himself.
“I have no sisters, but if I did, there’s not a guy on this team I’d let near her,” Liam says, cocking an eyebrow.
“My sister is married to Anderson, so I’d have to go with him. Although,letis kind of a loose term. I mostly tolerate it.” I nod my head toward the doors Ford just walked through, giving him an amused smirk.
When I found out my sister was seeing Ford, I definitely could have reacted better. It was a combination of shock and anger that came out in giving both of them the cold shoulder for weeks. I was pissed Abby would go behind my back and I was pissed Ford was hooking up with my little sister. It wasn’t my finest moment, but I see now what they have. What they’ve had for years. He protects her, he loves her, and he’s completely committed to her. She’s happy and that’s all that I can ask for.
Both girls gawk at me as if I’ve just given them the juiciest news they’ve heard all day. It’s no secret my sister is married to my teammate, but clearly it still carries a shock factor. I nod at the girls and pivot past them. I can hear their voices whisperingas I open the doors, but I can’t make out their words. Not that I have any interest in what they’re saying anyway.
“You just gave them something to talk about for the rest of the day,” Liam says with a husky whisper as we walk down the hall.
The walls on the way to the locker room are filled with newspaper articles and photos of all our team’s success over the last couple of years. A constant reminder of the greatness that we should be seeing this season, only we aren’t. This season has been tough. We haven’t been playing our best, making bullshit mistakes and too many guys are getting hurt, causing backups to fill in who are inexperienced when it comes to live game play.
The Halloween decorations that were up just a week ago are coming down to make room for the Christmas ones that will take their place. It’s hard to believe it’s already the first week of November and that only adds pressure to the season, knowing it’s almost over and we’re not in a position we want to be in. We’re nowhere near the position weshouldbe in. Aside from guys getting hurt—which, in most cases, is beyond our control—it’s all things we can work on. We all have shit we’re dealing with outside of the field. We all have a home life and personal things that are important, but we’re on this team to do a job and some days it feels like no one wants to do it.
Once I’m showered and changed from practice, I immediately feel ready to get home. My knees are still giving me trouble and I’m fucking gassed from a tough day of practice.
“Can I convince you to come to the hockey game tonight? Dunn gave us these.” Nate Campbell—one of my closest friends and our running back on the team—waves four tickets in my face. He puts them back into his jeans pocket before pulling his hair back with a blue scrunchie, no doubt belonging to his wife, tying it in a low bun. In all the years I’ve known Nate, he’s had short hair, so this is a new look for him.
“Can’t.” I brace for the follow up questions that are sure to come.
“We haven’t been to a hockey game in years, come on,” Nate urges.
I shake my head at Nate and quickly finish putting my clothes in my bag before he can say anything else to try and sway me.
“Not going to happen.” My mouth forms a firm line and I grab my duffel bag, hauling it on my shoulder.
“I’m afraid you’re going to forget what it feels like to be around a woman other than your sister and this guy's wife.” Liam jerks his thumb in Nate’s direction. “We can even go to a bar afterward.”
“Funny,” I answer flatly, tossing a towel into the laundry bin nearby.
“Hey.” Liam walks up closer to me just as I’m about to leave, practically cornering me. “I’m just fucking with you, but it wouldn’t hurt to make some time for yourself, man. I know I don’t know the first thing about being a dad. All we’re saying is, we know it’s been a while since you’ve let yourself have some fun.”
My definition of fun has drastically changed in the last few years. Fun for me now is defined by early bedtimes and documentaries. It’s finding out that my three-year-old did not, in fact, eat the last Fudgsicle and I can enjoy it while learning about different whale species on a Saturday night.
“You guys go have fun,” I say as I walk out, not acknowledging the first half of Liam’s comment.
