Jogging off the field, I grabbed a towel from one of the assistants and downed half my water bottle.
A body banged into my back. I braced my hands on the sideline bench and stopped myself from falling forward and accidentally crushing a ball boy before turning and glaring.
Vince snatched his towel from one of the kids and kept up his glare.
“Don’t think you’re special, rookie. This is how they treat all the rooks on the first day.”
I mopped the sweat off my face and set my bottle down.
“Did you hear me, Rook?”
“I heard you, but I’m sure as hell not listening.” I walked away, back to the locker rooms.
His muttered curses made the aching muscles and draining fatigue worth it.
Knox came in after I’d already showered. His face was long and drawn like his favorite pizza place had just gone out of business.
“How’d it go?” I zipped up my duffle.
“About as shitty as you’d expect.” He squeezed the back of his neck. “Fuck, I hate feeling like this. I couldn’t do jack shit out there. I wouldn’t be surprised if I got a call tonight.”
“They’re not going to send anyone home on day one. One drill at a time. You got this.”
“Glad someone thinks so,” he mumbled under his breath.
“It’s the first day. No one knows what the hell they’re doing.”
“It looked like you did to me.” He jerked his jersey off, sweat splattered the polished wooden bench.
“I did all right.”
“Since when is the all-powerful Dare so modest?”
“Since I’m Keyton and I stopped shoving my head so far up my own ass.” I flung a towel to him.
He grabbed it out of the air and wrapped it around his waist. “Do we have a team dinner tonight?”
“Dinner opens in twenty minutes, if you want real food.”
“If I can drag myself out of the shower, it’ll be a miracle.”
“Just think of that sirloin, gravy, and mashed potatoes.”
His eyes widened before he dropped his head. “Not for me. The team nutritionist said I’m strictly on the lose-weight train. So it’ll be boneless, skinless chicken breasts and steamed broccoli for me.”
“That sucks.”
“Tell me about it. And let me guess, you’re on the add-weight diet.”
I clenched my teeth sucking in air with my gaze darting away. Hadn’t I always been? Even after an unlimited meal plan in college and learning to cook for myself once I could actually go to the grocery store and buy food, I never turned down a meal, but with all the working out it always felt like it was never enough.
The locker room filled up with coaching staff, assistants, and more players.
“When I thought I couldn’t hate you more,” Knox grumbled. “Wait for me, at least. I can get some vicarious enjoyment out of you eating those double chocolate chip cookies.”
The volume increased and it was bodies banging into bodies in the locker room that was smaller than the team one back in the stadium.
“Catch you outside.”
I walked out of the locker room. A shoulder drove into my chest on the way in. My muscles tensed. Looking up, I shook my head and put a stranglehold onto the sparks of anger trying to light a fire in my gut. A shaved head gleaming with sweat glared back at me.
“What are you shaking your head at, Rook?”
“Just the fact that you might need glasses with the way you keep banging your way around today.” I backed out of the doorway with my hand tight around the strap of my duffle bag.
“Say that to my face.” He jerked forward. Someone grabbed onto his collar.
“I thought I just did.” I let the door close between us and shook my head again. Fuck! This was not why I was here. Did I really want to start some shit with an asshole afraid to lose his position? Knox didn’t want to believe I’d changed, and in moments like this I didn’t believe it either. Why hadn’t I just kept my head down and done my job?
He could flail and grasp for what was left of his career, just like I’d probably be doing in a few years. But I fucking hated bullying assholes.
Outside the early evening air was thick. A kid ran up to me with a ball and a pen. “Are you on the team, sir?”
Way to make me feel old, kid. And that remained to be seen, but I had a place at the table at the moment. I smiled and crouched down. “Yeah, I am.”
“Cool.” He jumped and looked back at his Dad behind the rope. “Can you sign this?” He held out a silver metallic sharpie.
Finding a spot that wasn’t already covered in ink, I scribbled my name.
He looked at it like I’d handed over a thousand dollar check. Depending on how we did this season, maybe I had. “Thank you!” He raced back under the roped off area that was meant to keep people away from the exit.
Damn, that felt good. The kind of excitement I could bring a kid just by signing my name on a piece of leather made me want to push myself even harder, so that kid could be even prouder to have my name added to the ball.
There weren’t too many people out there yet, since some players were still finishing up practice. Some of the guys looked like I felt, and others breezed out like this hadn’t been more than a light jog around the park. Not making the cut scared me more than almost anything. I’d built my whole life around football, lived and breathed it for so long. It had been my refuge. If it was taken away now, what the hell would I do? Would I even get to set foot on a stadium field?
All those texts would end once word got around that I’d been cut. Then I’d be the guy everyone had always figured would fuck it up one way or another.
I shook my head, trying to knock those thoughts flat on their ass. I couldn’t let those crazy fears get in my head and trip me up.
The kid rushed back to his dad and they shared high fives and chest bumps before flipping the ball over and pointing out the spot I’d signed. His dad had a side smile that matched his. What would my life have turned out like if I’d had a dad like that? Or if my mom hadn’t died?
Moments like these felt like getting sideswiped by a truck. What was Bay doing now? How would things have gone for us if I hadn’t fucked them up? Would I have kissed her goodbye as she was unpacking our new apartment after going to school on opposite sides of the country for the last four years? Would she be sending me texts about how much she missed me? Would I be crossing off the days on a calendar like I was locked up in county until I got to sleep beside her?
The exit burst open and Knox strolled out with his hair wetting his shirt. “I’m fucking starving.”
“What happened to scraping yourself up off the floor?”
He clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Just talked to the nutritionist. I’m allowed to have three cookies a week, even on the lose plan.”
I laughed. “Next time you get laid out on the field, I’ll tell them to hold the smelling salts, and just wave a chocolate chip cookie under your nose.”
“And I’d eat it, too. Let’s go.” He led the way to the cafeteria as if following his nose.
The tables were broken up more by position than seniority this time around. People were getting more comfortable.
The number of plates—many more than one—I needed to fill for my calorie plan was insane. They contained pounds of the most delicious food I’d had in a while, so I wasn’t complaining.