Aston is leaning against his station like the room exists solely for his commentary. He might be a rookie, but he’ll be one of our starting defensive players this year. He’s a walking highlight reel. Equal parts talent, ego, and charm.
When he spots me, a huge grin spreads across his face. “There he is. Mr. Prime Time.”
“Don’t start.” I laugh, shaking my head.
“Too late. What’s got you all smiley this morning?” He walks to me and gives me a hug.
“I’m not extra smiley. Same as always.”
“Uh, you sure it doesn’t have something to do with a particular lady?”
I lean in, whispering, “What are you talking about?”
“I mean”—he lowers his voice—“I think there’s something you need to tell me.”
Shit. What did Archie tell him?
I called Archie last night to tell him about Seraphina. He was shocked and angry on my behalf for the time I missed, but he’s really happy for me, and he wants to come meet them both soon.
And because the Griffiths all talk on a daily basis, I have to assume Archie told them all the news. And I don’t mind; everyone will know soon enough. I just … need to do this the right way.
“I don’t have anything to tell you.” I shrug.
He smirks. “Okay, sure.”
Before I can respond, our defensive captain, Wyatt St. Clair—otherwise known as Saint—tosses a towel at Aston’s head.
“Save the gossip for after practice, Griffith,” he says. “We need to be on the field in ten.”
Saint is a steady kind of guy and built like a brick wall. A true leader on and off the field. He’s the perfect balance for Aston’s personality.
“Pitz,” he says, holding his hand out to me, smirking. “Glad you could make it, man.”
“Thanks.” I shake his hand, smiling. “Don’t think I had the option to miss it.”
Behind him, one of our tight ends, Brody Vaughn, jogs over, and we also shake hands.
“Media team is already out there,” he says. “They have the drones flying.”
“Gotta love the aerial shots.” I smirk.
“I do. Any angle of me, though, is prime,” Aston chimes in.
We all laugh, and I shake my head. It’s going to be fun playing with him this year. But it does make me miss Archie more than ever.
A few minutes later, I make my way onto the practice field.
Staffers move between camera set ups. Media directs us where to go. Sponsor reps hover like nervous parents at the first game of the season.
And over near the sideline …
Alie and Seraphina.
She’s standing with a clipboard in her hand, talking to Presley and someone wearing a headset, completely in command, while Sera tosses a football into the air, letting it drop, only to pick it up again.
My chest tightens, and I have to fight the urge to run over to her and pick her up, then kiss her mom.
Aston walks over to me and follows my gaze. “Is that her?”
