“Hey Zach,” I hollered, my voice echoing off the walls. “Why don’t you take a break and come in here?”
That’s when I noticed his shadow standing nearby. I had no clue how the players put up with having cameras following them around the campus. Whoever in the league made the decision that it’d be good for the league’s image to base a reality TV show on one team’s pre-season prep each year deserved to be kick squarely in the dick. Those guys were a distraction during the best of times, but this year, they had the potential to completely derail a rising star’s career. It didn’t help matters at all that the shadow was both the problem and the solution in this case. It seemed way too fucking convenient that his ex-boyfriend just happened to get a job working for the show. And, of course, he was following Zach towards my office. Dammit. I waved him off. “Sorry, son, this is a closed door meeting. You’ll have to wait out here.”
The shadow— Griffin— set down his camera and plopped his ass into a chair. I almost felt bad when his shoulders slumped forward in defeat, but fuck that. His job was to get dirt on the player he was assigned to follow and my job, apparently, was to find a way to scrub that dirt off and make it go away. Or at least figure out how to help Zach hide it. If he was serious about this guy, no way in hell was I going to try and convince Zach to send him packing. Zach wiped the sweat from his brow. His shirt was already soaked through, another sign he was pushing too hard. An injury right now could derail his entire season. And this early in his career, he could find himself on the unemployment line. “Everything okay, Nix?”
“Good, good,” I assured him. “Please, have a seat.”
His motions were tentative, as though was gearing up for an ass chewing. And he might be, depending on how our conversation went. The cocksure attitude from last year was going, vanished the moment we gave him a heads up that he’d been recorded talking to the team captain on the beach. That was supposed to be a private conversation, but we were all quickly learning there would be no such thing except in league-approved areas that weren’t wired or video and sound. Now, he was constantly on alert, worried that his place with the team was in danger because of what he did on his own time.
“How are you holding up?” I asked. The question felt forced and I hoped he knew me well enough to know it was because I wasn’t comfortable talking about anything other than football and was doing this under duress, not because I didn’t care about his answer.
“Feeling good,” he responded confidently. “Doing everything I can to improve my start on the forty. Competition’s tight this year.”
“Zach, I can assure you, you have nothing to worry about there.” I cleared my throat, straightened a stack of papers on my desk, wiggled my mouse to wakeup my computer. Anything to put off this conversation. “What I mean is how are you doing after what Coach told you the first day of camp? I know you said you just want to play ball, but frankly, we’re concerned that you’re pushing yourself so you don’t have to face the prospect of the show outing you.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” he insisted, his voice wavering. He dragged his hands through his hair, carefully avoiding making eye contact. “I just…um…you know, I’m trying to focus on what really matters. And right now, the only thing that matters is making sure my ass isn’t called up to Coach’s office next week. You said it yourself that people are expecting more out of me this year and that’s going to get even worse as soon as they find out I’m gay. Basically, I’m just doing what you told me I need to do.”
“That may be true, but I don’t believe I told you to abuse your body,” I pointed out. “You’ll be no use to anyone if you don’t take a break to let your body heal. I’m going to talk to Coach, but I think it’d be for the best if you sit out practices today.”
“I can’t do that, Nix,” he argued, growing more agitated. This is why I didn’t get into anything other than training routines, injury prevention, and game preparation. I reached out to calm him down, not surprised when he flinched away from me. In his mind, I’d become the enemy. I was the one standing between him and his goals. “I have to be on that field. Aren’t you guys the ones telling us every play matters during camp?”
My head started to throb as my blood pressured skyrocketed. I clenched my jaw as I rounded the desk, trying to hide my frustration over not getting through to Zach. I was on his side here, both professionally and personally. But how did you help someone who seemed so damn set on not being helped?
“Zach, take the break,” I pleaded with him. If I had to, I’d tell him flat-out that Coach would be pissed off if he didn’t back off a bit. Actually, that wasn’t a bad plan. “You’re not being punished and no one’s going to think less of you. One thing you need to know about Coach Rodgers is he’s fully invested in his players. He firmly believes you can’t perform at peak level on the field if you’re not taking care of yourself at home. Given the way he’s turned this team around since he got to town, it’s hard to disagree with him. He knows how much stress you’re getting ready to face head-on and while he respects the hell out of your decision, he’s worried. And so am I. Will you do this? If not for yourself, do it to put our minds at ease.”
“Fine.” The sharp response was to be expected, but I didn’t care how much attitude he threw as long as he agreed with my request. “But you’re wrong. What I do during the off season, who I spend time with when you don’t own my ass, that has no bearing on what I do when I walk through the locker room doors. If I have to work longer and harder to keep my head clear, that’s on me.”
The door bounced off the wall as Zach stormed out of the office. Yeah, that went well. Looked like I needed to call Lincoln after all.
Author’s Note
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About the Author
Sloan Johnson is a big city girl trapped in a country girl’s life. While she longs for the hustle and bustle of New York City or Las Vegas, she hasn’t yet figured out how to sit on the deck with her morning coffee, watching the deer and wild turkeys in the fields while surrounded by concrete and glass.
When she was three, her parents received their first call from the principal asking them to pick her up from school. Apparently, if you aren’t enrolled, you can’t attend classes, even in Kindergarten. The next week, she was in preschool and started plotting her first story soon after.
Later in life, her parents needed to do something to help their socially awkward, uncoordinated child come out of her shell and figured there was no better place than a bar on Wednesday nights. It’s a good thing they did because this is where she found her love of reading and writing. Who needs socialization when you can sit alone in your bedroom with a good book?
@authorsloanj
Sloan Johnson
authorsloanj.com
[email protected]
Also by Sloan Johnson
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Never Too Late
Wild Pitch
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Change Up
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Acknowledgments
As always, nothing I do would be possible without a strong team behind me. I sometimes think writing acknowledgments is harder than writing the book, because I’m terrified I will forget someone vital to the process. If I do and it’s you, please know it’s not a personal affront, simply my scattered brai
n refusing to focus.
Denise, I’m not sure you understand what it means to have you on the other side of an internet or phone connection, ready to reassure me, talk me down, and sometimes kick me in the ass to get over myself.
Erin, thank you for not running scared when I asked you to look at something and give me your honest opinion. More importantly, thank you for giving it to me, even when it was hard to hear.
Abbey, you caught things no one else did and weren’t afraid to give me your thoughts even when I hadn’t asked for them. I appreciate that honesty!
Stephanie, thank you for working hard to take my pile of thoughts and turn them into a polished work.
Marisa, as always, you’re a graphic design goddess! I’m so glad you refused to just sell me a picture two years ago!
Eric, I’m not sure we’ll ever understand how you manage to find the perfect models to represent the characters I write, but some things are better left unknown. I only hope we can continue this magic for years to come.
Morgan, you are my sunshine. Cheesy, sure, but you always put a smile on my face. I cherish our friendship and don’t know what I’d do without you.
And last, but not least, Kristen. You’re sitting in front of me right now, making one last pass over the book in case I missed something. I love your face.
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