“Yeah right.” Ford chuckles.
Coach waves us over for a quick huddle post practice as the final drills are wrapping up.
“Gentlemen, we know how important these moments are. Nice day today. We’ve got to challenge one another, keep each other accountable and focused. Make sure we keep these connections we’re building strong.” Coach Aarons looks around at the men standing before him. Not everyone on this practice field will make the fifty-three-man roster. It’s a tough reality, butpart of the business. “Compete your asses off. Not just amongst one another, but compete with yourself. Make yourself better for your teammates. There’s an old saying, ‘If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.’ We go far on this team. We work together on this team. There’s not just one guy on this field who is going to do it all for us. Every one of you needs to be prepared and in shape. Meet with the trainers, they’re here to help. Get some rest and we’ll be back at it tomorrow.”
There’s a collective “yes, sir” among the guys as Coach Aarons nods in my direction and begins to move away from the huddle.
“All right, boys, bring it in,” I say, raising an arm. “One goal every year, fellas. Bring home the championship. For each other and for the city. Everything we’re doing from now until the end of the season becomes intentional. We need that mindset on this field so it translates to those sixty minutes every game. Like Coach said, let’s keep competing our fucking asses off. Let’s stay committed to one another, to the team. Yeah? Family on three—one, two, three,family!”
The huddle breaks apart, and I run a hand through my sweat-soaked hair. The guys start filtering out and walking toward the facility, getting ready to head home for the day.
Except today, I don’t go right home. Because today is a therapy day.
A few years ago, I finally admitted to myself what I think I had been suspecting for a while. I needed an outlet. A place to get some of the things I harbor off my chest. My childhood was anything but a childhood, and as an adult I now see how that affected who I became.
It took the team therapist, Dana, two sessions to tell me the symptoms I was experiencing were depression. And four sessions for me to break down in her office. Something I never,everthought I’d fucking do. I didn’t realize how lost I was untilshe created the space for me to talk about everything. Now, these biweekly appointments are like a damn cleanse for my soul.
I’ve never publicly shared that I go to therapy, but my closest friends and my brother know. Truthfully, I probably never would have even started if Mia didn’t have me researching a bunch of shit for Nate a few years ago before he started his foundation for mental health. It’s been cool as hell seeing that small idea of his turn into such a big movement for athletes all over the country.
Summer was the first person I told that I wanted to go talk to someone, and she’s been who I’ve shared the most with since. I’m not entirely sure how, but fiery Summer Kincaid somehow ended up as my ear for a lot of hard days, and I cherish that woman so much for it.
Therapy days always lead to my best night’s rest too. Something about getting all the bullshit off my chest is freeing.
And I’ll definitely need a good night’s rest; I’ve got a big day tomorrow.
I’m no closer to finding an apartment. Are they incredibly expensive on purpose? Alyssa offered again for me to stay, but I need my own space.
Something I vowed to myself after my divorce was the promise of being selfish. In the right way, of course—doing what I felt was best for me, speaking my truth and removing myself from people or places that no longer felt right. And that’s exactly what I’m choosing to do here. I’m so appreciative of Alyssa helping me a few months ago, but I need to find my own place anyway, and this kind of pushes me to do it sooner.
But at this moment, all of my energy is going into this coffee with Liam. I’ve been thinking about it since I woke up this morning.
And not in the obsessive kind of way people might assume if I said this out loud. More so, why did I agree to go get coffee with him? I have nothing against Liam. But hanging outwith him one-on-one could very easily give him, and anyone who happens to see, the wrong impression. The last thing I ever want is someone to assume I didn’t earn my spot in my career. But I overthink normal everyday interactions, so I shouldn’t be surprised I’m nearly spiraling over coffee with the quarterback.
But it’s just that. It’s coffee. And we’re just friends.
So that’s why I’m sitting at Sips Coffee House, at a table in the corner with a baseball hat tipped down over my face.
“Excuse me.” A shaky teenage voice grabs my attention, and I glance up to see a barista holding a cup of coffee in front of me. He looks genuinely nervous as he places it down on the table. “This is, uh, from Liam Evans.” He looks behind him and then back to me as he swallows and steps back.
I tilt my head and see Liam near the counter. Leaning against it with a sly grin spread across his face. His tanned biceps on display as they cross his chest and the light gray shirt hugging every ridge of his shoulders. The perfectly messy, but not so messy, look to his hair paired with black denim jeans. He may as well be holding a sign that saysLook at me, I’m very attractive. He isn’t trying to hide being here one bit. Living up to his love for attention in all areas of his life apparently.
“Sending me coffee?” I slide the cup closer to me as he takes a seat across from me.
“What’s with the hat? Afraid to be seen with me?” The left side of his mouth tilts into a grin. He doesn’t acknowledge my question, and I don’t follow up.
I take a slow sip of the drink, letting its warmth coat my throat and exhale a deep breath.
“I’ve had enough gossip around my name to last a lifetime. So, yes, I’d really rather not be seen right now.” I sigh. “Although, I did agree to meet you, so what does that say about my decision-making skills?” My eyes widen at my own statement. I’m talking to myself at this point.
A throaty chuckle bellows out of his chest and he takes a sip of his coffee before rubbing the back of his neck.
“I think your decision-making skills are impeccable.”
“That’s debatable.” I laugh to myself, shaking my head back and forth.
“Why do you say that?” He leans in closer, as if he’s genuinely curious.
“Forget I said it. I’m still just looking for an apartment and feeling stressed out over it, I think.”
