“I wasn’t the only one fangirling. Did you see all the women flocking to him when we entered the restaurant?”
Carrie rolls her eyes. “It’s always like that. And they were all over your brother too.”
Though hockey isn’t as big as football in Texas, there seem to be quite a few puck bunnies in the Lone Star state, and they were all apparently in the Italian restaurant where we ate tonight. Thank goodness Axel had the foresight to rent out the private back room for our large party, so we got to eat in relative peace.
“I’m not really accustomed to seeing that because everyone in my small town is used to Bubba. I thought Holly was going to punch that one chick.”
“If she wasn’t pregnant, I’m sure she would have,” Carrie says, reaching over to dig out two bags of spicy almonds from her drawer. “They already have a little boy, right?”
I nod. “Yes, Aiden. He’s a little over a year old now.” My roommate tosses me one of the bags, and I tear it open. “Did your dad pressure you to play football?”
Carrie uses the band on her wrist to tie her curls up into a messy bun. “Not at all. I was actually supposed to play basketball in college, but when we started hearing rumblings about a professional football league for women, I shifted my focus. After the combine, I got invited for a tryout for the team here and made it.”
“I’m glad you did,” I say warmly, popping two savory almonds into my mouth and chewing. “What made you decide to play defense instead of offense like your dad?”
She shrugs. “I guess I didn’t want the comparison. Kinda forging my own path or something.”
“I can understand that. You don’t want to live in your dad’s shadow.”
“Exactly. I’m sure the only reason I got invited for a tryout was because I’m the daughter of Axel Broxton, so I just decided to play on the other side of the ball.” Carrie wets her lips with her tongue. “I need a drink.”
“I’ll grab us some waters,” I say, rising from my bed. “You know, I always thought it was brave of Laila Ali to become a boxer. I mean, her father was one of the greatest of all times, and for her to go into a sport that’s historically a man’s sport… I don’t know, I think that took a lot of guts. Just like you with football.”
“It’s always been my favorite. Football has been in my blood since I was a little girl.” Her voice turns contemplative and a little dreamy. “I remember running up and down the field, tossing the ball around with the other players’ kids after games.”
“I love that,” I say, pulling open the door to the kitchen and lounge we share with our suitemates. Before I can reach the refrigerator, a knock sounds on the main door of our room, and I backtrack. “Wonder who that is.”
When I swing open the door, I’m surprised to find our head coach, Adeline Berry, standing there in a team T-shirt and athletic shorts. She’s about my height, with mahogany skin, short braids, and her customary look of fierceness.
“Coach Berry, hi. Is something wrong?”
“Is Broxton in here with you?” she asks, cutting straight to the point, like always. If you looked up no-nonsense in the dictionary, there would be a picture of Adeline Berry.
Carrie appears beside me in an instant, standing at attention like she’d been summoned by a drill sergeant. “I’m here, Coach, sir, I mean, ma’am.”
Our coach’s brown eyes narrow, holding the moment for longer than necessary before saying, “Both of you. In my office. Six minutes.” Then she turns and marches away, leaving Carrie and I scrambling to find our shoes in a panic.
“Holy crap,” Carrie hisses as we jet out the door a minute later. “I’ve been here for five minutes and already getting called into the coach’s office. What do you think this is about?”
“I have no clue,” I tell her, “but I’m sure it’s nothing bad.”
At least I hope not.
CHAPTER SIX
All the shits
Jordie
That weekend, Carrie and I cruise down Interstate-45 toward Houston in her sporty little red Jeep SUV. I like that her parents have enough money to buy her something worth ten times as much for her high school graduation, but this is what she’d chosen because it was practical for hauling around football gear.
“Why do you think Coach sent me to this meeting?” she frets as her fingers drum nervously on the steering wheel. “This is my first year, and I haven’t even played a single down of college ball.”
“They said they wanted players who are expected to be drafted into the new WNFL when it kicks off in a couple years. She apparently thinks you’re one of those players.”
Carrie scrunches her face and mumbles, “That’s a lot of pressure.”
I comfort her with a pat on her shoulder. “You have the height and speed they’re looking for. You’ve been shining in practices this summer, not to mention, your football IQ is off the charts. You know the game, Care Bear.”
