Me: How do I make the green card questions stop? They are making me feel like someone laid a pottery wheel on my chest.
Willow: You know how.
Me: Shut it.
Willow: So testy. Have you thrown a pot? You know that’ll make you feel better.
I have not. I’m not sure I can.
Me: No.
Willow: Well, hop to it. You still need to tell me one thing you’re great at today. I’ve been waiting all day …
Willow won’t stop asking until she gets an answer. She and Roman have that in common, I’m afraid. A shaky breath filters through my lips, and I type.
Me: Popcorn.
Willow: Microwave popcorn does not count as something you’re great at, Stella.
Me: It does, and I’m fantastic at it.
I have never failed at microwave popcorn. Work, everyday tasks, five whole days of marriage, sure. But popcorn? Never.
Seventeen
I barely makeit through our team meeting. It’s been two weeks since I married my surly little bride. And I feel like we’re still at square one.
Coach called a last-minute meeting, and I’ve been too distracted to pay much attention. I’m still not sure what it’s about when?—
“Graves, this one is for you. So, listen up,” Jacobson says. “Our owner, Will Baxter, has invited all who aren’t traveling for the Thanksgiving holiday to eat and enjoy the festivities at his place. Graves, I’ve already RSVPed for you and the new little missus.”
I sit up a little taller. Did he just say what I think he said? “Uh—but we have plans.” We don’t. Rebecca called asking us to fly out for the holidays and Stella declined with the excuse that my schedule wouldn’t allow it.
“You didn’t.” Jacobson grins. “Now you do.” He nods as if he’s doing me a favor. “That’s it, guys. Enjoy the break. We’ll see you on Thursday, or in January.”
The guys around me stand, but they don’t go anywhere.They are content to yammer on to one another like it’s been months since they’ve seen each other.
“Graves, you got married?” Maverick Monroe says. “I mean, I saw the interview. I thought it was a joke.”
I ignore the idiot midfielder and jog up to the head of the room. “Coach,” I say. “Stella and I can’t make it to Thanksgiving.” I clear my throat, not quite meeting Jacobson’s eye. “Really. We can’t.”
“Doubtful,” Jet Jacobson says. “Whitaker already told me her family is in Canada.” Pointing a finger at me, he adds, “Baxter’s house, two o’clock, Thanksgiving Day. Don’t be late.” Then he slips his laptop into his backpack, not bothering to pay me any more attention.
“But Coach, listen?—”
His head whips up and he takes one step closer to me, putting almost zero space between the two of us. “No, you listen. You married your girl. You moved into your cabin. And since then, you haven’t spoken to one of your teammates. This is part of the reason I didn’t want you leaving Lakeview. Married or not, you must be in contact with your teammates. You need them.”
I open my mouth, but Jacobson isn’t finished.
“Not to mention, no woman wants to be in the woods, alone, at all times. Your wife needs this too. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for her. You can’t keep her locked up in the woods?—”
“She isn’t locked up. She can come and go anytime.” But she hasn’t. And while Stella was always introverted, she always spent time with her friends too. She had a tight-knit group in school, and now she’s stuck with me and only me.
I bow my head and inhale a deep breath. “You might be right.” Maybe Stella would be more cooperative aboutstudying for our green card interview if she had any semblance of a social life.
“Of course I’m right. We need you, Roman. You’re the best at what you do. But even more, you need this team. You need these men. Not to mention, you’re going to drive your new wife away if you are the only person she sees or converses with. Get the girl out.”
For the firsttime in my Red Tails career, I’m hearing Jet Jacobson.You need your team.
