“Doesn’t your friend Ford have a suite?”
I scoff, shaking my head as I pull the phone from my ear. This man is acting like he’s too good to sit in the stands, or that he can’t afford to pay for a damn suite if he so desperately needs one.
“My friends split a suite because of all the kids.”
“So because you don’t have kids, you don’t think it’s important to have a suite? I had one when I was playing and you kids were in it all the time.”
“Things were a lot less expensive back then.”
“Are you having money issues?”
Of fucking course that’s what he would zero in on.
“No,” I firmly state. “I don’t buy suites, end of story.”
Nothing is easy with him. Even something as simple as a conversation. He drains so much out of me.
He hums, and I hear background noise. It’s almost enough to make me ask where he is, but honestly I don’t give a fuck.
“Denver’s defense has the highest sack rate in the league right now. Make sure your O-line is intact and ready.”
“Yep.” I’m so mentally checked out of this conversation, but one thing I always told myself is I’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing how he gets to me. As badly as I want to tell him to fuck off and hang up the phone, I don’t. Maybe that’s a mistake on my part, but it’s still part of the guilt he puts on me.I’d be nothing without him.
“I’ll make some calls about a suite. I’d like to be comfortable as I watch my team make you work.”
Not “good luck.” Not “do your best.” Not even a funny way of saying “hey, I’ll always be a Denver fan, but you’re my son and I’m rooting for you.”
I hate how my nose stings and my eyes burn. I shouldn’t pay any mind to anything he says. But he’s my fucking dad. He should care about how he makes me feel.
Once our phone call ends, I hop in the shower. I need to wash away the stress of this day. In addition to speaking with my dad, I had a meeting with my agent and we briefly touched on my contract. She said the Knights have been in touch with her, but haven’t made any official offer yet for us to work with to extend me.
I’m not really surprised, I know these things are tedious and there are a lot of moving parts to make things happen, but I’ve done a lot for this organization since I’ve been here so to be almost halfway into this season and not have really any clue what’s going to happen sucks. It’s the business, but it still sucks.
Birdie meows at the bathroom door, and I hear her loud and clear as I’m drying off. The moment I close any door it’s like she immediately needs to be in that specific room.
“What’s the deal, Bird?” I poke my head out with my towel wrapped around my waist.
She scurries into the bathroom under my feet and then follows me right out as I’m walking toward my closet. I just shake my head at her need to be everywhere I am.
I’m starving and need to eat something. I wish Demi wasn’t at a network dinner tonight. I’d order us some food from that Dominican restaurant again. I’ve been thinking about those fucking tostones since the first time we had them.
Pulling on boxers and a pair of joggers, I shake my hair a little to get excess water off and hear my phone chime three times in a row from my nightstand. I swear to god, if it’s my father again I’m going to lose my fucking mind.
Summer Kincaid
Hi handsome!
Look who we ran into at Bricks!
Summer Kincaid has sent an image
The photo comes through of Abby, Summer, Mia, and then Demi on the far left. Holy fuck, she’s gorgeous. Her smile gets me every goddamn time.
Summer Kincaid
She’s literally stunning. I can’t handle it!
I heart the photo and laugh at Summer’s comment. Tell me about it, I know she is.
