Page 26 of The Backup Plan

I stop, temper my emotions, and then meet his eyes. They’re bright. Sharp. And just a little too eager.

“Careful,” I say. “You’ll pull something if you keep reaching that hard.”

He chuckles. “Relax, Hale. I’m good.”

Of course, he is.

“That’s what they all say,” I reply.

He straightens, squaring up like this is a weigh-in of a prize fight instead of a conversation in a locker room. “Look, man. I know why they brought you in here. I hate to break it to you, but the last thing I need is a mentor.”

“Pretty sure I came here to play football.”

He snorts like he doesn’t believe me. “I don’t need someone hovering over my shoulder waiting for me to screw up.”

“So, you are worried about me? Perfect.”

“The fuck I am.”

I lift my eyebrows. Easy. Calm. My lack of reaction seems to piss him off even more.

“You’re here because the front office needed a safety net. A familiar name. Someone to keep fans comfortable from where he stands in his place on the sidelines.”

And there’s the bluster I was waiting for. The raucous noise to cover the fact that I make him nervous.

I take a step closer. Not aggressive, just close enough so he knows I mean business and that I’m still six foot five and not going to allow his ego to intimidate me.

“You done?” I ask.

He swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs.

“Because let’s get one thing straight. You will screw up.”

“Like you did in coming here?”

I bite my tongue and, rather than put him in his place like he firmly needs to be, I take the high road. The mentor road. The fucking highway management asked me to be on.

“No,” I say slowly. “Like every single fucking one of us does in this league. The mistakes? The screw-ups? They make us better, Valor.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” he says, his tone less aggressive now.

“No. You don’t. You probably think you don’t need anybody but then that wouldn’t make you a good team player, and we can’t have that in a quarterback, now, can we?”

“All I was saying was I don’t need you.”

“I know. You’re twenty-two and invincible. Congratulations. You kicked ass in college. Awesome. You broke some records and won some awards. Even better. You know what you haven’t done? Faced an NFL player who has been in this league for eight years, knows every trick in the book, and is gunning to sack the arrogant, snot-nosed rookie who thinks he’s better than everyone else.” I blow out a long, low whistle. “I assure you that’s a bell ringing you’ve yet to receive.” I step closer. He blinks. “You keep acting that arrogant around here, I guarantee your own teammates will suddenly have spaghetti arms and let that beast of a defensive lineman slip by so he can take your ass out and teach you a lesson.”

“Bullshit,” he barks out.

I raise my hand. “I was once in your shoes, and I can vouch from personal experience that it happens. So believe me. Don’t believe me. But like it or not, we’re on the same fucking team, and you can bet your ass and that fat contract you signed, that there will come a day when you look toward me for an answer or advice.”

“No, I—”

“I know. You already know it all.”

His jaw tightens. His chin lifts. “I have coaches.”

“Right. Keep thinking that way, and I’ll be taking your spot before you know it.”