Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
At first, I’m not sure how to respond. I’m honored, of course, but it comes with some strangeness because what’s different in my life is Lucas. I lost myself after Ellis’s death, and now my coach is saying I found myself again, and it’s because of Ellis’s brother.
“Thank you, Coach. That means a lot to me. I love this game. I love this team. Football has always been the most important thing in my world.”
Should it be, though? I used to think so. I didn’t even have to feel guilty feeling that way because Ellis used to think it should be too. We had that in common. We bonded over it. Football was all that mattered, but now that feels off, like I suddenly realize that even though I love football, there’s more that matters, that there’s a million different things to love that aren’t football. Is that all we shared? That can’t be the case, but it was always there with Ellis and me. It’s what we did, what we talked about, what we were striving for, both of us—for me to be the best player I could be.
“That’s good, Hunter. I’m glad to hear you love this game—we shouldn’t be here if we don’t—but there’s more to life than football, okay? You can’t give your all here, if you’re not happy there. One day, football won’t be here, not in the same way, at least. Remember that. You deserve to be happy.”
Again, I’m struck speechless. I try to imagine Coach Blake telling me that, but there’s no chance in hell he would. He has always told me to succeed, that football must be everything, must come first, and with him, it always has. Before his wife, before his kids…
“Thank you. I am.”
He grins and pats me on the back. “I can tell. That’s why you’re playing so well. Happiness doesn’t start on the field, but we reap the benefits there. I just wanted to tell you I see you, see your effort, and as I said, whatever you’re doing, keep it up. We need you out there.”
Oakley is waiting for me in the locker room, standing by his cubby with a towel around his hips, water glistening on his pretty brown skin. “Hey, bro. Everything good?”
“Yeah. It was weird. He just wanted to tell me he’s proud I’ve been playing well.”
“He’s right.” Oakley pulls his boxer briefs on beneath his towel, then tosses it aside. “You’re killing it. Our little fucking Comeback King.”
I roll my eyes at the ridiculous nickname. “Shut up, Lockdown Mann,” I throw his nickname back at him. They call him that because he’s so damn good at covering the best wide receivers in the game—including Desmond.
“Damn right.” He grins, wearing the name proudly.
“I never went anywhere,” I finally say, though we both know that’s not true.
“Maybe not physically, but up here.” Oakley taps his temple. “You’re good now, though—or better. Everyone’s noticed. You deserve that after what you’ve been through. You know you’re my boy…even if you are cool with Desmond.”
I chuckle. Des and Oakley have never gotten along—probably partially because Des is so good at what he does, and Oak is too, which means it’s always a battle between the two of them. Still though, outside of that, they’ve always grated on each other’s nerves—or I guess Des annoys the shit out of Oakley. Something about him hits weird with Des too, but not in the same way. It’s almost like he enjoys getting under Oakley’s skin. He’s supposed to on the field, but not off it. “Des is my guy,” I say, feeling playful with Oakley.
“Everyone has a flaw. I guess yours is your bad taste.”
“But you’re my boy too,” I add, remembering how much I enjoy bullshitting with Oakley. When Ellis died, Oakley used to ask me to hang out all the time, often to have dinner with his family. I said no so often, eventually he stopped asking. What would he think if he knew about Lucas and me? Could we have a night at my house the way we did with Isla last week?
“Everyone gets it right once in a while.” Oakley winks, and I laugh.
“You’re an asshole.”
“Definitely.” He grins, puts his shirt and pants on, and steps into his shoes. “It’s good to have you back, man. But it’s different too…you seem different. Lighter or some shit.”
“I feel lighter,” I admit. “Let’s hang out soon, okay? Outside of football, I mean.”
Oakley’s smile grows. I swear the guy never looks unhappy. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He holds his fist out for me, and I bump it. “I’m out. See ya on Wednesday, Hunter.”
“See you then.”
I can’t wait to get home and share my day with Lucas.
*
“Mmm, I like days off after a week off,” Lucas says as I lift him up and set him on my kitchen counter. His arms and legs immediately wrap around me, and when I lower my hand, I feel the bulge growing beneath his LA Pulse shorts.