The questions are underway and most are for Mac and Watts, thankfully. Until it’s my turn to talk.
“Hendrix, you had an awesome game tonight,” a reporter named Mike from the Tampa Bay Chronicle says. “How does it feel to earn a shutout against the Spirit? The last time these two teams met, I think it was a draw, correct?”
I nod. “Yes, it was a tie. But this time, Mac came up big for us in the scoring, and I was able to make the correct saves. The first time we played them we were a bit new and still learning our rhythm. This time, I think we were better prepared and worked hard together for this win.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Cindy and Watts are pleased with my response to Mike.
“You sure did, Hendrix. And I know Tampa Bay is pleased with that.” He chuckles before asking Mac about her shot that found the back of the net.
I relax a bit, leaning into the back of my chair.This might not be so bad after all,I think to myself as I sit there.
I feel someone watching me. I don’t bother to scan the room. I know who it is. Even with the cameras flashing and reporters firing questions at us, there’s a steady warmth at my back. It’s August standing against the wall just behind me.
I keep my eyes on the reporters, remembering all of the direction that I’ve been given about being in this room from Cindy. But a part of me is tuned into him, like a second heartbeat. It’s ridiculous how much calmer I feel knowing he’s here. I know he’ll never let them tear us apart, not that they would after today’s game. But ever since Danny and Mac squared off in this room, he’s ready to jump in and prevent it from happening again.
There’s a flicker of vulnerability—that soft, exposed part of me that hates being in this room and dissected by the reporters. But with him here it feels safer, not that I would ever admit that to him. If I were to stumble over an answer or say something stupid, he’d back me up. He wouldn’t judge me; he’d still be there leaning against the wall, eyes on me, making sure we’re all okay. Having him here means more to me than I’ll ever admit to anyone. Especially him.
I answer another question or two, but it’s nothing too heavy or serious. The mood of the room is light given the win and our successful clinching of playoffs. And before I know it, Cindy is thanking everyone for their time. We rise and head out of the room.
I turn and see him standing right beside the door. He says something that I can’t hear to Watts and Mac as they pass him. Our eyes lock when I reach the spot where he’s standing.
“You were wonderful out there tonight,” August says lowly, as if he doesn’t want anyone else to hear his words.
I nod. “I was just doing my job.”
He reaches out and grabs my arm, like he knows I’m seconds from hurrying past him. “Just take the compliment.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, keeping my tone steely and guarded.
“Hen,” my nickname slides from his lips like it’s a habit and something that he’s always called me. Even though, given the fact that he’s the owner and I’m a player, I haven’t heard him callme that in years. Not since we were in college. Right before he left me.
“I’m sure I’ll see you at the bar tonight, August,” I reply and make my way past him. As I pass I breath in the expensive cedar and flowery scent that has become so familiar to me.
“You sure will,” I hear him call after me.
But I don’t react or turn around. Instead, I keep moving, following Mac to the locker room, where we’ll retrieve our stuff and head out for the night.
Chapter Six
~AUGUST~
“Ijust want to say that this team is truly something special. I am blessed to be a part of this organization. The Blaze is really coming into its own. This is the breakout season that no one could have predicted, and it’s all because of all of you.” I stand there on the bar stool, looking out over all the members of the team that came out tonight. I see my friends over in the corner, grinning back at me.
Who would have thought that the boyfriends of soccer players that I manage would befriend me and not see me as the stuck-up boy whose daddy handed him a soccer team to manage? But Danny, who dates Mac, my center striker, has become a close friend of mine. As has Jase, the English goalie coach that I was lucky enough to hire. Jase dates our mid-fielder Cassie. The friend I still talk to from college, Dexter Langley, came down here to be the team’s trainer after running away from a marriage that was left in ruins due to his infidelity, ended up dating my injured center back. My father hates the optics of it all, but it works somehow.
“Let’s have some fun tonight and tomorrow we get back to work on making this playoff run one of the best! Cheers to all of you and your hard work. Go Blaze!” I say, toasting my glass. I’mmet with a chorus of cheers. I can tell that some of it is genuine and some of it is because I bought the round that they are all drinking.
I hop down and rejoin my friends at our usual table.
“So is your father stoked for a change?” Danny asks me quietly as he watches Mac, Cassie, Hendrix and Amelia giggling about something.
I chuckle. “You would think that he would be. But he just said that anything less than a playoff run would have been unacceptable.”
Danny shakes his head. “Has he not seen the media coverage? The Blaze is the only team that has made a playoff run in their inaugural season in ten years. It’s rare for a team that started out the way these girls did to make the playoffs.”
I nod. “I know that, but you know Maxwell Cromwell isn’t easily impressed with the things that I do. He has expectations that would rival a dictator’s. So, nothing that I do is ever quite good enough.” The words slip out before I can stop them. It’s not something that I like to admit to my friends. But I must have enough whiskey in my system to make me say things that normally I wouldn’t.
Danny claps me on the back. “You did plenty, August. Just accept that while he may not see it that way, the rest of us do.”
