My game day.
We’re all in the locker room getting ready to enter the tunnel and then run out onto the field. The crowd is wild out there. The first game of the season is always nuts—especially when it’s at home like this. We won two preseason games and lost one, all of which I had to watch from the sidelines. They rarely start veteran players for preseason games, and especially not when we’re coming off an injury.
Today, there’s a lethal undercurrent in the locker room while everyone suits up. It’s a fresh season. A clean slate. You can feel the anticipation of it like a cloud of smoke in the air. But for me, it’s even more intense. I finally get the chance to prove myself for the first time. And I feel ready.
The last two months have been…incredible. Not just because my job has been ramping back up again and filling my days, but because my mornings and nights have been devoted to Nora. Nora. I can’t think her name without smiling. Without heat gripping my spine.
We’ve both been wildly busy—Nora even more so than me. And it’s been the greatest privilege to watch her absolutely shine. The magazine article was published last month, and ever since, athletes have been banging down her door for representation. Not because our love story has gone viral and put her on the map—but because of the advice she gave to young women during the interview. Since then, her roster has been filling up with
eighty percent female athletes. Because of it she’s been out of town a lot, traveling all over the country to scout athletes and take meetings with others. I didn’t see her once this past week because she was in Illinois scouting a female college soccer player—the last one she wants to add to her roster before closing it off to new clients.
Yeah, I miss her like hell when she’s not around, but I’ll sacrifice getting to see her every day in favor of witnessing that beaming smile on her face each time she returns home. She’s living her dream and it shows in her laughter, in her smile, even in the way she makes love with me. Nora is truly happy. And I’m happy too because of it.
We haven’t moved in together yet. We’ve been operating more like a monogamous, serious dating relationship than marriage just to give ourselves time to adjust. We did literally everything backward and so it’s been fun to simply date Nora these last two months—forgetting entirely about the tattoo rings on our fingers sometimes. But even though we don’t technically live under the same roof, we spend most nights we’re in town together. Either at my place or hers, but rarely separate. Her mom comes over a lot for dinner or a game night along with the guys and their wives. Pam is honestly one of my favorite people in the world. She gives us all shit over everything in the way a friend would. She’s great.
And maybe that’s why I’m excited today and not worried. My life feels more whole than it ever has before—and I’ve been thinking more and more about my future away from the Sharks…getting excited about it instead of dreading it. I have Nora to thank for that, because watching her pursue this new season in her career has inspired me to want my own.
Whatever the outcome today—even if I play my shittiest game ever and get cut immediately after, I know I’ll be okay. There’s more out there for me than just football.
Still…I plan to play a hell of a game.
“You ready?” Nathan asks, coming up beside me and slamming a hand into my shoulder pads. He’s already in uniform, helmet in hand, grinning like he can see into the future.
I nod and reach for my helmet from my locker. “More than ready.”
“And if you play like shit?” “Still ready.”
He nods with a smile and gets ready to walk away when Jamal interrupts, looking in the mirror in his locker. “Tell me, you guys…does it suck waking up every morning knowing you’ll never look as good as me?” He smirks at his reflection, diamond earring glinting in the light.
Price, who’s sitting on the bench in front of his locker looking more exhausted than I’ve ever seen him, looks up at Jamal. “Do me a favor? When you get tackled today, picture my smiling face the whole time.”
Jamal pretends to pout. “Someone a little grumpy from not sleeping with the new baby around? Don’t worry. I’ll pick up your slack on the field today.”
Price stands and towers over Jamal. “Go ahead, little chicken nugget.
Taunt me some more.”
Jamal pats Price’s chest, not at all intimidated by his height. “Oh good.
You’re awake now.”
Nathan shakes his head. “Jamal, one of these days you’re really going to get the crap beat out of you.”
Jamal only grins wider and runs a hand over the side of his head. “And I’ll still look good.”
“All right,” Lawrence says, stepping into the circle and drawing all eyes to him. “It’s almost time. And I just want to say…” He looks at everyone and his eyes fall to me last, holding my gaze. “I’m proud to play with all of you. And proud to call you my friends.”
I frown and cross my arms. “The hell, Lawrence? Is that supposed to be my farewell speech?”
His face flushes and all of the guys laugh. “No. Not at all. I just wanted you to know that no matter what happens—”
“What’s going to happen?” I interrupt, lifting my chin and letting my arrogance fuel me.
Lawrence sees it and nods with a smile. Everyone does. It’s been a minute since I’ve felt this familiar confidence pump through my veins, and clearly, they’ve noticed its absence.
Nathan smirks. “Oh damn. Derek’s got his bedroom eyes.”
Jamal cringes. “Is this what Nora has to look at right before you—”
“Oh, yes. Please do finish that sentence, because I would love to respond to it.”
“So many threats today, gentlemen!” Jamal raises his hands with an indulgent smile. “Does no one appreciate my attempts to liven you guys up before a game?”
“I appreciate you,” says Lawrence, with such tender gratitude there’s no way it could be misconstrued as sarcasm. No one would guess that this man is about to become feral in the stadium in a few minutes.
“All right, all right,” says Nathan, stepping in the middle of all of us. “Real speech time…” We have a formal huddle with the whole team on the field—but this one is tradition for the five of us. A minute for us to regroup and get ready. Nathan gives the first speech of the season each year, and we rotate every week after that. And just in case this really does end up being the last one I hear from him, I savor it.
“There’s been a lot of change for each of us this year. We’ve had babies.” He looks at Price. “We’ve gotten married.” He looks at me. “We’ve gotten a second ear piercing.” He looks at Jamal. “We’ve had poems published.” He looks at Lawrence and stops there, oddly not adding any monumental moments for himself. “It’s been a good year and I’m thankful to have walked with each of you through it. And today…I’m thankful to walk on that field with you too. It’s going to be a good season. But mainly because I’m playing beside my friends…”
There’s a beat of silence because no one trusts themselves not to get emotional. Everyone’s eyes have suspiciously dropped to the carpet and there’s sounds of throats clearing and aggressive sniffs.
Finally, Nathan finishes while looking right at me. “Let’s give ’em hell today, boys.”
—
We run out of the tunnel and the crowd’s cheering rips through me. The sun is hot and the sky is as blue as the day I kissed Nora on the beach. The memory of her has me squinting up into the stands to find her. She has use of my private box, but she didn’t want to sit in it today. She wanted to take her usual seat in the stands—the seat I had no idea she’d been occupying for the last several years.
I was all for her sitting there until I realized that seat was up at the tip- top of the stadium. I selfishly vetoed it. It didn’t take much to convince her
—I just told her the truth: I wanted to be able to see her face from the field during the game.
So now I search the seats just behind our sidelines, anxiously trying to spot her. To find the woman who’s my tether to happiness.
The crowd roars around me and several of my teammates jostle my shoulders as they fly past me and onto the field. Our coach slaps my back and tells me good luck before he jogs over to his position on the sidelines. But I’m preoccupied looking for her. Nora Mackenzie Pender.
And then there she is, my wife.
Her auburn hair glints in the sunlight and her smile grows eight sizes. I missed waking up to her this morning after having to spend the night in the hotel with the team. I’m starved for the sight of her. Hungry for her touch.
Nora blows me a kiss and then points down to her new jersey I had secretly delivered to her apartment this morning. It’s the newest black-and- white design for the season that she doesn’t have yet. She spins around so I can see she’s painted the number with glitter glue and she holds her hands over her shoulder, making a heart.
At the sight of her, the rest of the stadium falls away and it’s just her standing here—her pretty mouth smiling as she turns back to me, silently calling me to her. I jog my way over and drop my helmet beside me on the turf. I grab the railing and jump up to stand level with her. The people beside her are family of the other players and don’t make any moves to touch me. But Nora, she leans forward and dives her hands right into the back of my hair.
“Well, hello there, handsome,” she says in that fake southern accent she once used on me at the bar in Vegas. The night we accidentally changed our lives forever.
“Kiss me,” I half demand, half beg.
She obliges, pressing a tame yet intoxicating kiss to my mouth. I’m vaguely aware of cheers and catcalls rising around us. “I missed you last night,” she says, breaking the kiss with a twinkle in her hazel eyes. “But I used my time well and made this epic sign.”
My gaze drops to the thick cardboard she holds up for me. PENDER, LET ME SEE THAT TIGHT END.
I shake my head. “Is that drawing supposed to be my ass in uniform?” “It’s an uncanny likeness.” Her eyes glow with happiness—or maybe
that’s just all the glitter reflecting from the sign.
“I love you.” I lean in to kiss her one last time, but just before my lips touch hers, a hand grips my back and rips me off the wall.
“You two kiss too damn much. It’s time to play football.”
“Jamal, you’ve got a death wish today,” I call after his retreating figure. He’s running onto the field with a cocky grin, flipping me the bird behind his back.
I glance at Nora one last time and point at her before heading to join the guys on the field to stretch. This one’s for you.
