“Cooper should make up his own mind about Miles,” I whisper. “Promise me.”

  “Promise. I won’t say anything, but he’s eventually going to find out. You’re going to be at some games with me this year. You know how lonely it was for me, waiting for him after the games when all those jersey-chasers were waiting to get a piece of him. I almost got into a fight every damn time.”

  I hadn’t really thought about that, but still… I’ll postpone Cooper knowing as long as I can. Maybe the distance between Miles and me will do us some good. We’re not in the same social circle now, and I don’t write about him. With time, maybe we can be cordial with one another.

  “I’m starving.” Cooper walks down the hall and opens the pizza box. “Fuck, Elle, I told you I wanted meat.”

  “And you also told me that camp starts next week and I shouldn’t let you eat things your nutritionist wouldn’t approve of. So if you’re having pizza, you’re having veggies.”

  He stares at the pizza as though someone told him he’s eating liver for the next week straight.

  “I was so excited,” he whines.

  “Stop being a baby,” I say and grab three beers from my fridge. Grocery delivery is the best thing ever. I pop open the bottle and hand it to him. “Here, drink away your problems.”

  “She knows I don’t like mushrooms,” he whispers and takes his pizza and beer into the other room, where he turns on the television.

  “It’s just like old times now that you’re back.” Elle side-hugs me and holds up her beer.

  I clink mine with hers.

  “Welcome to Chicago, B.”

  Cooper runs over and clinks his bottle to mine. “Hey now, you can’t be leaving me out of your girly things now that we’re back to being a throuple.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “We’re not a throuple, Coop.”

  He stares at us for a second and busts out laughing. “I just meant we’re three, not a… fucking hell, you know what I meant.”

  We laugh and he goes back into the living room, sits down, and eats his pizza.

  As much as I’ll miss my friends in San Francisco, I’m happy to be reunited with these two. I can’t wait to see what excitement Chicago brings me.

  My phone rings and I pull it out of my back pocket to see my mom’s name. Elle looks over my shoulder and sighs. I hit Decline and she sighs harder.

  “Sooner or later…”

  “Not tonight,” I say, grabbing my pizza and beer.

  I was able to hide a lot of that part of my life in San Francisco, but here, Elle and Cooper will call me out on my shit. That’s the problem with old friends. They know your wounds better than anyone.

  Chapter 3

  Miles

  Training camp…

  Training camp isn’t for the weak. It’s the hardest training I’ve ever done. During my first training camp, I threw up ten times. I underestimated it. But now I know.

  Thankfully, today is over, and I’m stretching while some of the players are working one-on-one with their specialist coaches. I’m sitting in the field, talking to my other defensive players, when Ronnie Michaels walks up to me.

  Ronnie is the general manager of the Chicago Grizzlies. He’s the one who positioned my trade last year. He’s the one who brought me into his office my first day on the team and said how much they wanted me. How much of an asset I would be to the team. I felt great until the draft happened, and they took a safety in the fifth round. Why do the Grizzlies need a third-string safety?

  He sits down beside me. Ronnie’s one of those hands-on GMs, always telling you how he wouldn’t be where he is without the players. Which is nice to hear, and of course, in a roundabout way, it’s true. Without players, the league doesn’t exist, but there’ll never be a shortage of guys who want to play professional football.

  “Great day today. That pick-six against Damon? Fuck, man, everyone went crazy.”

  I could say it’s like flag football out there right now. We’re not in pads yet and just running drills. The pick-six was nothing. But I’m going to take credit, because Cooper is one hell of a quarterback, and Damon Siska has some of the best hands in the league. So the fact I stopped them from scoring means I’m doing something right.

  “Thanks. It was fun out there.”

  “And that’s what it’s all about. Fun. Too much serious shit in this league.”

  Says the man who doesn’t have to fight for his position every year. The Grizzlies gave me a two-year contract. So in reality, I have to prove myself this year with the hopes they resign me.

  “I can’t tell you again how happy we are that we were able to get you onto the Grizzlies. You’re going to do amazing things for us.” He claps me on the back and stands. “I have to go tell the Sportsverse reporter just that. Come over when you’re done, and I’ll introduce you to her.”

  For a moment I freeze, not wanting to look in the direction he’s headed for fear of finding a short, feisty brunette with a scowl. Because if Bryce was hired at Sportsverse to cover the Grizzlies, I’m going to lose my ever-loving mind.

  Thankfully, when I look up, a tall redhead is smiling at me. Ronnie’s already made his way over there, and he must say something about me because she waves and her smile grows. It would make my day if this woman were one of my fans and not the half of Chicago that thinks I’m a bust and past my prime.

  After I finish stretching, I walk over to the press area where Ronnie is still talking to the redhead. With so much against me, I can’t pass up an opportunity for good press.

  “Hi,” I say, and Ronnie turns to me, putting his hand on the back of my shoulder as if he’s presenting me.

  “Miles. So glad you could cut your stretching a little short and talk to us. Let me introduce you to Shelly Breckles. She’s the point person for Sportsverse Magazine, and she covers the Grizzlies.”

  I put my hand between us and her thin, smooth hand slides into my calloused one. “Nice to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is all mine. I’m a Wolverine too, and I’ve been following you around ever since.”

  “Really? You went to the University of Michigan too? What year?”

  “Just a year behind you.”

  “Really?” I can’t believe I don’t know her. I thought I knew everyone who wrote for the newspaper back then.

  “Yeah, I had a talk radio show on campus where I’d go over the games. I was way too intimidated by you to ask you to be on it though. But here we are now.”

  “Exactly, here we are now,” Ronnie says, clapping me on the back again. “I’m going to leave you two to catch up.”

  We say our goodbyes, and my eyes follow him as he makes his way over to the fifth-round draft pick, Tre Brummer. A sour taste hits my tongue. He’s younger, faster, and was supposed to be drafted higher, except the idiot got into a bar fight, and now he’s been labeled as a troublemaker.

  “So…” Shelly pulls my attention back to her. “I was so excited when you were traded to Chicago. I went out and bought your jersey. I already have some interesting articles and pieces to do about you that I’m pitching to my editor.”

  “Why would you want to do that?” I shouldn’t ask the question, but why would I be important enough to have special pieces on me?

  Her green eyes widen. “Are you kidding me? You’re like the underdog story of the year. You’re traded mid-year and the team you were on for years wins the Big Game? Don’t tell me you’re not upset about that. That you don’t feel like you have something to prove.”

  Shit, this woman understands me.

  “Yeah, I do, but the Kingsmen deserved to win. Lee Burrows is one hell of a quarterback.” Plus, he’s my friend.

  “So is Cooper Rice, and he’s younger than Burrows. Analysts are saying this is his year, and with you on defense to stop the other teams, it’s a match made to get you guys to the Big Game. That’s all without even adding Damon Siska into the equation. You should be smiling, Miles.” She playfully pushes my shoulder and laughs.

  “There have been a lot of teams with great players that never reached the championship game.”

  She rocks back on her heels. “You’re one of those, are you?”

  I arch an eyebrow. “One of?”

  “Pessimist.”

  I’m not sure that’s what I would say. I shrug. But I know better than to get my hopes up. Maybe this year they’ll want to trade me somewhere else just when we’re on a winning streak.

  “I learned a long time ago to keep my expectations low.”

  She laughs and hits me in the shoulder again. “Well, you have me on your side this year and I’m going to make sure everyone, including Ronnie and the whole coaching staff, know how good they have it with you as their first-string safety. Have faith in me, Miles Cavanaugh. You’re going to be the hottest commodity in the league by the year’s end.”

  “That would be amazing. I’m usually underrated.” I smile at her.

  “Exactly, but I could be president of your fan club. I love the way you play, the way you live your life away from the press, the way you take your physicality seriously with your workouts and watching what you put in your body.”

  My ego soars with her words. Finally, someone on my side. Someone the complete opposite of Bryce and her nitpicky bullshit. “I can’t tell you how happy you just made me.”

  She smiles wide. “I couldn’t wait to get down here this morning. I tried on, like, five outfits. My boyfriend is jealous, but he’s not really a sports guy, so he doesn’t understand how I’ve followed you your entire career and how anxious I was to meet you in person. I felt like those young girls who cry at the concert of their favorite boy band.” She laughs again.

  I join in with her because I must be dreaming or lost in some other world because a sports reporter wants to scream from the rooftops how great of a player I am.

  Fuck, maybe Chicago is exactly where I need to be.

  Later that day, in the dorms where we stay during training camp, Damon and Cooper are playing some video game in the common area, so I sit in the chair next to them. I knew Damon Siska in college—we were teammates—so he made my adjustment to the Grizzlies a lot easier. Propped me up to the other players.

  Cooper, on the other hand, I don’t know much about, except that some woman on a social media app fell in love with his looks and made these videos that went viral, and women all over the world fell in love with him. He’s been inundated with commercial deals and magazine covers over the past year. I’ve never been the “it” player, so I have to wonder how he handles all the fame, especially when it’s not even football-related.

  “Say thank you,” Damon says, his thumbs moving on the controller, his eyes fixated at the screen.

  “For?”

  “I scored you a place at The Den.”

  Cooper laughs. “Shit, man, did you start that name for the place?”

  Neither of them look at each other while they’re talking, instead concentrating on the screen.

  “Hell, no, man, but it’s really brilliant when you think about it. I mean Grizzlies and The Den?” Damon laughs.

  “Is someone going to fill me in about what The Den is?” I ask.

  “It’s our place on the North Side, by the Colts field.”

  The Colts are one of Chicago’s baseball teams. The most-loved team on the North Side.

  “People call where you live The Den?”

  They glance at one another and laugh before concentrating back on the television.

  “Tell me you get it, Cavanaugh?” Cooper says, his body twisting as though that can impact his game on the screen. “I know you’re, like, a straight arrow and shit, but you do enjoy some of the advantages to being a pro football star, right?”

  “Hell no, my bro doesn’t,” Damon says, his thumbs hammering on the buttons. “Fuck you, Rice.”

  Cooper smiles as he continues to win the video game.

  “So how and why did you score me a place?” I ask.

  “You’re in that short-term rental still with shitty furniture and an even shittier location. You’re not gonna meet any girls living where you are right now. So I pulled rank. After Creed retired, half the team put in bids for his floor.”

  Cooper glances in my direction and laughs. “It’s a four-flat with a bar on the street level and a rooftop bar and bleachers that look onto the Colts’ field. It’s the top floor unit too. Premium. You really should thank him, because I heard some of the offers from other players were hard to pass up.”

  “Then why did I get the place when I never even expressed any interest in wanting to live there?” I ask.

  “Because, like I told Burrows, you’re under my wing here, and I’m not going to fail you like he did. Fucking bastard gets attached and lets you become a hermit?” Damon shakes his head like “how could he?” “We’re going out, and you’re going to enjoy your life for once. That means you live at The Den with Rice and me.” He drops his controller and walks away, pulling at his blond hair. “Fuck this.”

  Cooper laughs. “It’s just a game, man.”

  Having known Damon since college, I’m familiar with his hatred for losing at anything. Back then, he would’ve broken something.

  “So, how much is this coveted spot in The Den going to cost me?” I ask.

  Damon recovers quickly and laughs. “Rematch, bastard.”

  “It’s worth the cost,” Cooper says.

  “So say thank you,” Damon insists, picking up his controller, along with Cooper, to play again.

  “Thanks, I guess, but I don’t think I’m going to do the name justice.” I’m not the playboy type, even if I wish I were.

  “I’m gonna make sure you do. And you’re welcome.” Damon smiles at me before his lips turn into a thin line and he puts on his game face to compete with Cooper.

  Things are looking up. I wanted to find common ground with my teammates, and with Shelly at Sportsverse on my side, maybe this is my year.

  I fucking hope so.

  Chapter 4

  Bryce

  The nervous butterflies refuse to stop as I walk into the Sportsverse Magazine office building in downtown Chicago. Public transportation did not help my hair this morning because it was so hot, and I’m pretty sure all my makeup has dripped off my face.

  I press the elevator button and ride it up to the twentieth floor. The doors slide open, and it feels as if people are tumbling in my stomach while I stare at the Sportsverse logo on the wall.

  You’ve got this, Bryce.

  You deserve this.

  Do not fuck this up.

  I step out and take a breath before turning to the right to see a large reception desk. Although I was already here for my final interview, I have no idea where to go, so I stop in front of the frazzled-looking woman.

  She keeps pressing buttons on the phone and asking people to hold before clicking on another line. I hate to even bother her. A delivery guy who rode up the elevator with me stands next to me, staring at her. She blows a piece of her hair off her face and holds her finger up to us.

  “She must be a temp,” the delivery guy says to me. “She’s not the normal receptionist.”

  I nod.

  “What are you here for?” His gaze falls down my body and never makes it back up to my eyes.

  Instead, it rests on my legs, and I reprimand myself for wearing this pencil skirt. If it wasn’t my luckiest one, I would’ve worn something else. But I wore this when I got my job at the Chronicle, and I was wearing it when I got the call from Sportsverse. Good things happen when I wear this skirt.

  “Today is my first day,” I say.

  His eyebrows lift.

  I sigh. “Yes, funny thing, women in the world know a lot about sports too.”

  He holds up his free hand. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You didn’t have to, your body language said it all.” I used to be tighter lipped when men gave me the all-too-familiar look when they found out I’m a sports reporter, but I’m done with that.

  “So you’re a reporter then?”

  I nod, waiting for the receptionist, but she’s still fielding nonstop calls. “I am.”

  “For women’s basketball or something?”

  I spear him with a look. “Why would it be women’s?”

  He holds up his hand again. “I was just asking. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “I’ll be reporting on hockey.”

  “The Hawks?” he asks.

  “Tundra.”

  “Oh.” He says it in a tone that implies that this makes more sense to him.

  I fucking wish I could’ve said the Hawks. There’s a lot to report on with the Tundra. More shifting of players. Bringing them up, bringing them down. The ins and outs are fascinating, and I’m excited to report on them. But they aren’t a national team, so it isn’t considered as prestigious.

  I turn back to the receptionist because I no longer want to talk to this man.

  She finally stops and looks at me as if she’s about a second from tears. Oh, I know that look.

  I round the desk and pick up a second phone which must be used by a second receptionist who isn’t here. Sometimes you just have to step in and take control of a situation.

  “Sportsverse Magazine,” I answer. “Please hold.”

  With the two of us double teaming the phones, me placing people on hold and her transferring them where they need to go, it’s only a few minutes before there’s a break in the calls, and everyone is taken care of.

  “Thank you so much. Both receptionists called in and I’m a temp.” She signs for the package and places it on the desk.

  “Good luck, you two,” the delivery guy says, and I roll my eyes.

  “And what can I do for you?” she asks, turning her attention to me.

  “Well, today is my first day. I’m to report to Bill Osterman.”

  Her eyes widen. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She shoos me away with her hand. “I’m holding you up. Mr. Osterman’s assistant was adamant that I send you to the conference room as soon as you arrived. I guess it’s a team meeting or something.” She presses a button on the phone system. “I’ll show you there.”

 

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