Page 47 of Tiger Lilies and Tight Ends

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he taunts. Sully is a big man and easily has five inches and eighty pounds on Dylan.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll go with the sandwich, too. Just like you didn’t say the details about the spiders, you didn’t tell us that we couldn’t slather it with toppings like chili, onions, and cheese. I’ll drown out the nut flavor,” Rico states, proud of his choice.

“My stomach just turned.” Dylan frowns. “I think I’ll take the spiders.”

Chapter 20

Tyler

Today is our season opener and the first game of my eighth season playing in the NFL. I feel blessed that this game is at home and among our fans, and emotional that I’ve made it this long playing a sport that I love.

Most athletes never know when their last day is coming. Yes, plenty out there choose to retire and leave on a high note, but for a lot of people, like my buddy Jack Willett who used to play for our team, a career-ending injury takes us out. An injury that always comes when we least expect it and breaks our hearts. I’m not oblivious to my age or the wear and tear I’ve placed on my body, but deep down in my soul, I know I have a few good years left.

“Ty,” Bryan calls for me. “Stick-in route,” he says, and I move to my place on our lineup. He calls the play, and I take off five yards. The stick route is a short, quick-hitting pass route where a receiver runs slightly outwards and then cuts back. This route is most used when it’s third and four. I have to be able to block the defensive end and catch the ball. A good tight end understands the importance of route running and how to leverage their size and ability to achieve this. It makes us hard to cover. I pivot away from where the defender would be, and Bryan fires the ball to my outside shoulder away from the defender. Easy catch.

“You good?” I ask him as he jogs over, and I toss the ball back to him.

“Yeah, I just wanted a few more passes before the game starts.” He tucks the ball under his arm and wipes his hands on the towel tucked into his waist.

“Nervous?”

“Always. You’d think I wouldn’t be after all these years, but I am.”

“Yeah, me too.”

The first game of the season always brings with it a host of emotions. There’s excitement, as it’s a fresh start to rid ourselves of whatever happened last season. We get to show off new talent like Ryder, and there’s a certain level of electric vibration in the air that comes with the fans. It fuels us, but there’s also nervousness as we as an organization put expectations on ourselves right out of the gate. We want to execute as perfectly as we can, make a statement about our unity as a team, and start the momentum to propel us into the next week.

“You’re only nervous because you have company here.”

“Nah, it’s not like that.”

“You sure about that? Y’all have been playing house now for a while.”

“I know she went and looked at a few places recently, but she didn’t love them. I don’t mind her there. It’s been nice.”

“Ah, is our lone wolf deciding he doesn’t want to be lonely anymore?”

“Shut up.” I shove him in the shoulder, and he laughs. “How’s farm life, chicken daddy?”

He frowns, then smirks at me. “You’ll know soon enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs at me while grinning as he jogs backward. “Exactly what I said.”

A roar from some fans in the far end zone catches my attention as Bryan runs over to Titan to run the opposite route of what we just did. The beat of a familiar cadence echoes, and I find the Tarpons drumline that walks through the fans and performs, and people love it. All the drummers wear a hat shaped like a fish, and it’s a spectacle, that’s for sure.

Man, I love this stadium. The teal stadium seats, the flag poles, which are made to look like fishing rods, the fishing boat that’s set up on one end of the stadium to host events, the drumline, and even King Silver, our mascot. The nickname for a tarpon is silver king, so of course our organization flopped the words, and we have a large fish that walks around with a crown on his head. I’ve bled these colors for so long, I’m not even sure I could work elsewhere.

Drifting my eyes to the right, I see the roped-off section for friends and family on the field. I instantly find her. I know she’s here with Camille and Sophie, but it also feels like she’s here for me. At least I’d like to think that she is.

Since I’ve been in the NFL, not once have I had someone stand there for me who wasn’t my parents or Lance. I’m man enough to admit that more times than not, I wish that I did, but never enough to make a change and do something about it. Now, seeing her there, I don’t know, it does something to me. And damn if she doesn’t look good, too. She’s wearing a tiny teal skirt that swishes when she walks, tall silvery-sparkled cowboy boots, and a white Tarpons T-shirt. I have no idea where she got those boots from, and although I shouldn’t, I can’t help but think about what she would look like in only those boots. Damn boot kink. Her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail and sways back and forth as she talks. Her hair, also my kryptonite, would look good wrapped in my fist. My heart thumps hard in my chest as she laughs at something Camille says.

I’m pretty sure I have it bad.

Bad for my best friend’s little sister.

Jogging over to the sideline, I lock my eyes on her, and hers are on me. I veer toward Sophie and Vivi first, attempting not to make myself obvious, as I pull my helmet up so it props on the top of my head. Although I’m not sure if there’s even a way to stop the circus that’s bound to happen.