The suite is quiet. Only the hum of the heater echoes as we walk from the foyer around the corner. Vera is here, perched on a couch in the sunken living room, her hands folded in her lap.

  “Please, have a seat,” Jasper says, indicating the chair across from his wife.

  Is Vera pissed I’m not joining her matchmaking agency?

  Jasper sits in the yellow chair across from me. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, water?”

  I furrow my brow. The owner is offering me a beverage? Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe it’s still the middle of the night, because this is a topsy-turvy world. “I’m good, sir.”

  “Excellent.” He rubs his palms on his pant legs, almost as if he’s nervous. “You might be wondering why I called you here.”

  Ya think?

  I nod. I can hardly speak.

  He takes a deep breath, sighs, then gestures to his wife. “Vera told me what’s going on.”

  My stomach churns as I wait for her to reveal my dirty little lie.

  But when Vera meets my gaze, her expression is elegant, professional. “I told my husband about the remarks Maxine has been making on her show. And I overheard some of what she said to you last night. I thought I lost an earring so I doubled back and heard her inviting you out for a drink, as well as the other things.”

  I sit straighter, girding myself for whatever is coming next.

  “And I told him how she behaved at the auction. So we decided to pull our sponsorship of her show. Effective immediately.”

  My jaw comes unhinged, and I try to speak. To say holy shit, thank you.

  Vera continues. “We won’t be associated with that kind of unwanted attention. It’s gone beyond a funny sort of joke about a celebrity. It’s completely inappropriate. And we won’t be a part of it. We have resources on the team to help you if you need any. Counseling, if that’s something you want.”

  Wow. “Um, thanks. I think I’m okay though,” I say, since truthfully, last night was the only time she went too far, and I handled it. I take a big breath. “Thank you, though. For stepping up like that.”

  Except, what if they figure out I don’t deserve the support? What if they know I lied about Violet at the auction?

  “Of course. It’s what we do for our players,” Jasper says, then sighs deeply, like he’s relieved to be finished with that unpleasant matter. “But that’s not the only reason we called you in.”

  Shit. There’s more? “Okay,” I say tentatively.

  Vera leans forward. “Now, I know you and Violet have known each other since you were kids, but since your relationship first came to light at the auction, I’d love to showcase the two of you on my social media. For my agency.”

  I blink, unsure why the hell she would. “But we didn’t use your agency,” I say, pointing out the obvious.

  Vera waves a hand airily. “Of course not, darling. I’d never claim you did. I simply want to showcase you as an example of the kind of love I can bring to my clients. As relationship goals. I can see you’re in love with her, and it’s so wonderful.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again. Once more, the room is upside down, right side up, tipped on its side. “I’m in love with her?” I ask, but then I realize those words shouldn’t come out in the form of a question.

  And not just because of my audience. That’s because it’s not a fucking question. It’s a fact of my existence.

  “I’m in love with her,” I repeat, this time with the certainty I feel inside. In my heart.

  As soon as I say it, I can’t seem to stop saying it. It frees me. It rips the weight of confusion off my shoulders. Everything that’s been happening with Violet crystallizes in one bright, clear moment. “I’m completely head over heels for her.”

  I am absolutely smitten with my best friend’s sister, the girl I’ve known nearly my whole life.

  “I can tell,” Vera says, a soft smile curving her lips. “And, she’s quite in love with you too.”

  My eyes widen to the size of pizza pies. “What?”

  Wild hope takes off inside me, strapping my heart onto a rocket of hope. Violet’s in love with me too? There’s no way. That’s too much to ask for. That’s like winning the Super Bowl.

  Vera’s eyes twinkle. “I saw you two kiss. And I’ve been following your romance. It’s a little magical.” She turns her gaze to her husband, who smiles adoringly at her.

  “A lot magical,” he adds. “And we’re glad we can assist with removing any tension Maxine may have caused in your personal life.”

  The team owner and his wife just went to bat for me. To prevent an uncomfortable situation with a radio host.

  But what have I been doing?

  Hiding everything.

  “I’m glad we could chat and properly take care of matters,” Jasper says.

  And when I’m dismissed, I realize that’s exactly what I need to do too.

  30

  It takes all day to work up my nerve because I’m about to do something my agent would deem utterly insane.

  That’s why I don’t call Ford. There wouldn’t be enough yoga classes in the Bay Area to calm him down if I told him my plan.

  Besides, when I’m on the field and see safeties swarming the guy I’m about to throw to, I can’t find a new target if I’m looking to the sidelines for instructions.

  I have to lead the team.

  I have to be the one to lead my own damn career.

  When the pre-game team meeting in the hotel conference room ends that evening, I don’t leave with my teammates. I walk over to Greenhaven and ask if I can have a word. He turns away from his assistant coaches and tells them he’ll be right back. We head into a private room off the conference area, and he shuts the door.

  “What can I do for you, Cooper?”

  My first name. There it is again. That’s who I want to be for him. But I can’t be that guy if I’m lying. I clear my throat. “I wanted to thank you for the invitation to dinner with your wife.”

  He nods. “Of course.” He takes a beat, studies my face, and reads me loud and clear. “But you didn’t need to pull me aside for that.”

  “No. I didn’t.” I take a deep, fueling breath. “I’m not really involved with Violet.”

  His brow furrows. His eyes register surprise. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen Greenhaven flummoxed. “You’re not?”

  “I am, but I’m not.”

  “You might want to explain that better.”

  “Something happened at the auction. Someone wanted to bid on me. And I didn’t want that person to win. So Violet bid, and when the host of the auction saw us on stage, she figured we were together, and I didn’t correct her. I said she was my girlfriend, and we kept it up.”

  He raises an index finger like a professor making a point. “But you go around with her like you are with her. You stopped by the hospital, she kissed you at the game last week, you post those pictures on your feed . . .”

  “You see my Instagram?”

  “I’m aware of what my players post on social media. Are you saying it was all a lie?”

  That word cuts straight through my chest, a sharp knife to my heart. Nothing has felt more true than my feelings for Violet. “I’m saying it started that way. I did it to make my life easier, but then somewhere along the way, I fell in love with her.” I hold up a hand. “I know that doesn’t excuse the fact that it started as a ruse. I’m not trying to make it all okay. The kiss on the field was real. At least to me, it felt real. Going to visit the kids was absolutely real, and to tell the truth, that’s probably when I knew in my heart I was in love with her.” I swallow and push past my fear that I’m upending my chances with the team.

  His lips twitch. “A man doesn’t look at a woman the way you look at her without it being real.”

  I flash back to the day in his office. To the gift he ordered for his wife. To the way he talks about Emily. This man is still crazy in love with his woman. That must be what he sees in me when I look at Violet, when I talk about Violet.

  “It is real. For me, at least. I have no idea if she feels the same. But I needed you to know the full truth. I want to carry this team. But I want to do it as a leader, not as a liar. And if I ever come to your house for dinner, I don’t want to be the guy who sits down at your table with you and your wife unless all my cards are on the table too.” I spread my hands in front of me, gesturing to the imaginary table. “These are my cards.”

  He nods, the wheels in his head turning, it seems. “I appreciate you showing them to me.”

  And that’s it. That’s all he says.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to return to the coaches.”

  I leave, having no clue if I just blew up my future with the Renegades.

  31

  “You did what?”

  I sink into the chair in Jones’s room. “I told him everything.”

  He drags both hands through his dark hair. “What in the actual fuck?”

  “I know, right?”

  “No, I mean what in the actual fuck are your balls made of?”

  I laugh, the first good laugh I’ve had all day.

  He gestures to my crotch. “Are they steel? Are they titanium? Are they some new fucking substance cloned from the DNA of the toughest badasses in the world? Special forces guys and paratroopers and bounty hunters?”

  “Maybe just pure stupidity.”

  Jones shakes his head. “Nope. Not stupidity.” He claps his hand on my shoulder. “You’re a steely-eyed missile-man, and I will follow you into battle.”

  I give him a look like he’s crazy. “You can’t be serious, can you?”

  “Dude, I have motherfucking chills. Look at me.” He holds out his arms, and yup, the hairs stand on end.

  “This is weird. I’m in your hotel room, and you’re showing me the hair on your arms.”

  “Because you’re like a Navy SEAL, man. You march in there, you see the commanding officer, you tell him the whole truth, so help you God. And you leave without him telling you what he thinks. You have the biggest cojones I’ve seen.”

  “You’ve been checking out my cojones, have you? You peek in the showers, right?”

  He gazes heavenward. “Why do I compliment him? Why?”

  I smile. “Thanks, Jones. I needed this. I feel a little insane right now. I texted Ford afterward and told him, and his only reply was Go kick Baltimore’s ass tomorrow, you fucking superstar. I have no clue what that means.”

  Jones furrows his brow. “Do you want me to play text message interpretation with you?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head.

  “I’m going to do it anyway. It means a cigar is just a cigar. It means go kick Baltimore’s ass tomorrow.”

  I hold up a fist for bumping. “That sounds like a plan.”

  “It’s an excellent plan. It’s precisely what we’re going to do. Because you’re not insane. You’re a field general. You’re the motherfucking quarterback.”

  And that’s what I do the next day against the enemy. I lead the team down the field as fifty thousand raving Baltimore Cougars fans boo us like we’re the Ebola virus.

  And I don’t care.

  I’m all business from the first possession when I take the snap, hand off to Harlan, and we earn a first down.

  From there, I do my goddamn job with blinders on, tuning out the crowd, tuning out the noise, listening only to my head and gut. I call an audible when I see their defense switch from man-to-man to zone coverage. My receivers change routes, and several seconds later, I lob a pass to Jones in his smelly socks, who grabs it fluidly, darts around the safety, and takes that prize another twenty yards.

  The rest of the drive is clockwork. A short pass to McCormick on second down. A handoff to long-haired Harlan, and then the bastard shows off his quicksilver feet, darting, dodging, and taking the ball right into the end zone.

  It’s a beautiful start, and I high-five him.

  Our defense holds them to three, but when we get the ball again, their line nearly mows us down, and we barely get into field position. But we manage, and when Einstein spits out his bubblegum, he sends the ball soaring thirty-seven yards between the goalposts.

  I bump fists with him when he comes off the field, grab some water, and watch the defense. Greenhaven glances my way and gives me a nod.

  I can’t decipher what that means, and I decide to stop trying.

  I stop thinking about everything I can’t control. Violet’s feelings. My job situation. Ford’s state of mind. Trent’s potential reaction. Where I’ll be next year. The one thing I can control is what happens on the gridiron, and when we get the ball back, I am in the zone. Namely, the end zone.

  Twice.

  As the team trots to the locker room at halftime, I’m one of the last guys to head inside. I’m keenly aware that someone’s right behind me, and that gruff-voiced someone determines my future.

  “Cooper.”

  It’s Greenhaven. He takes two big strides to catch up, and we walk side by side through the tunnel. “Did I ever tell you the story of how I met my wife?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I met Emily at a barbecue thirty years ago, when I’d first started with Phoenix. I wore a team jersey. As I flipped a burger on the grill, she asked if I was a Phoenix fan.”

  I look at him, waiting for him to continue.

  “She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Know what I told her?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I told her I was an assistant coach on the team.”

  I furrow my brow. If memory serves, he wasn’t the assistant coach thirty years ago. Assistant coach is a key position, one he worked his way up to. But that wasn’t how he’d started. “You weren’t, though, right?”

  He shakes his head as we walk, our footsteps echoing. “Not in the least. Know what my job really was?”

  “What was it, sir?”

  “I was the assistant to the coach,” he says with a lopsided grin.

  I dare to let a smile spread on my face, since there’s a world of difference between an assistant coach and the assistant to the coach. “Is that so?”

  “Have I mentioned how pretty she was?”

  “I believe you did.”

  “But she was more than pretty. She stole my heart. I think that’s why Emily forgave me when I admitted on our second date that I’d fibbed,” he says as we reach the inside corridor of the stadium. He stops and clasps my upper arm. “I appreciate your candor. And I value it, Cooper.”

  Then he strides into the locker room, where he gives his halftime speech to keep it up, and that’s exactly what we do.

  We’re on fire the rest of the game, scoring a field goal and two more touchdowns. A calm, focused energy fills me with each drive. When the clock ticks to nothing at the end of the fourth quarter, the Renegades erupt with elation because we fucking made it to the playoffs.

  Holy shit.

  That’s when the emotions explode. That’s when exhilaration overwhelms me. We punch the air. We hug it out. We shout and hoot and holler. There’s still so much more work to be done, but for now, I let myself enjoy this moment, even though I can’t believe we pulled this off. Three years of warming the bench, a terrible start to the season, and here in late December on enemy territory, we’re celebrating a wild-card spot and a kickass record.

  Later, when the cameras stop rolling and the cheers die down, there’s one person I want to call first.

  32

  I call my mom.

  Obviously.

  Who else would I call first?

  She’s the reason I’m here. She’s the reason I have a chance at the post-season. She’s done everything for me.

  “Hey, Mom, if I win the Super Bowl, want me to get you another house?”

  She screams in excitement, so loudly I pull the phone from my ear. Then, she laughs. “Just a new Coach handbag and my favorite Chinese food, please. And I knew you’d make it to the post-season, sweetie. I just knew it.”

  “Funny how a lot of people say that, but you actually said that when I was seven,” I say as I make my way toward the stadium exit, pressing the phone closer again.

  “And eight, and nine, and ten, and so on. When will I see you again?”

  “I’m heading back tonight. I can try to stop by tomorrow, but it’s a tight week since we’re the Thursday night game of the week.”

  “You know where to find me, and you also know how to get me tickets on the fifty-yard line for Thursday night, so why don’t I plan on seeing you then?”

  “It’s a date.”

  “Besides, there’s someone you should see first.”

  “Yeah, who’s that?”

  She laughs. “Might it be a pretty little lady who you’ve had your eye on since you were a teenager?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say as I near the exit.

  “Right. Sure. Keep telling yourself that. Incidentally, I always knew there was something real between the two of you.”

  My chest twists when she says that. “You did?”

  “I did,” she says, with a smile in her voice. “I could tell you two liked each other. I could tell at the game last week, and I could tell back in high school.”

  I want to believe every word she’s saying, but I also don’t know if I can.

  “Mom, I’m not sure it’s real for her.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “I’m serious. I don’t know if she’d get seriously involved with a guy like me.”

  She scoffs. “You mean handsome, talented, rich, kind, and good?”

  I laugh. “More specifically, I meant someone who’s married to football. That’s what Trent said about me last time I saw him. Do you think it’s true?”

  “In many ways, you are, and that’s not a bad thing. What would be bad is not letting her know how much she means to you.”

  I heave a sigh. “Why are you always right?”

  “It’s a gift. It comes with being a mom,” she says with a light laugh.

  I tell her I love her, then I hang up and open Violet’s contact info.