Chapter 30 Nolan

Chapter 30

Nolan

The parking lot outside of Gateway Stadium was even more full than usual as I pulled in and began to drive past everyone braving the snowy conditions to tailgate outside. Many of the fans recognized my Range Rover and cheers broke out as I crawled by them.

People were in winter overalls and stocking caps to keep the cold away, but you'd never guess they were tailgating in these conditions from the smiles on their faces. Bobcat flags were raised high on flagpoles throughout the parking lot. Some people even had custom flags that read "The GOAT" with a picture of me on it. Most of these fans wouldn't have tickets to the game, but simply being here and watching the game from televisions they set up in the parking lot was enough for them.

I may be biased, but I truly believed the Bobcats' fanbase was the best in the entire NFL, and they would be something I would miss playing for. I only hoped that Coach Randolph and the rest of the organization had considered my offer to take over for Coach Elliott after he retired so I could remain a piece of this place.

Workers were ambling around the parking garage the players and staff used underneath the stadium. But there was one person I noticed immediately that had me hesitating to get out of my car.

"Nolan!" Gary Martinez, the Bobcats' owner, greeted me as soon as I closed the driver side door.

"Mr. Martinez," I replied cautiously, feeling like I was wandering into a conversation that I wasn't prepared for.

"How are you feeling for today's game?"

"Ready to get the Bobcat Nation a win." The reply slipped out of my mouth like the rehearsed answer of a politician rather than something I'd say.

"Good, good." Gary nodded his head as if he wouldn't have cared if I'd told him I was about to throw the game because he was clearly on a mission for something else entirely. "Listen, I wanted to add something else to our offer to you for coming back next year."

My stomach sank when I realized where this conversation was going. I could honestly say I hadn't given the offer much thought these past few weeks. I'd been perfectly content with my decision to be done after this season and move into coaching. But a selfish piece of myself anxiously awaited his offer.

"We think we can give you about ten million more dollars to your contract for just next year if you come back."

I had to fight to keep my jaw from hitting the floor.

"Oh, sir. I'm not sure—"

Gary cut me off, waving his hands around. "Please don't answer me right now. Really think on it."

Before I could say anything else, Gary slipped away into the crowd of fans that lined the hallway leading toward the locker room.

I dressed into my warmup clothes in a complete fog as I thought about Gary's offer. I never thought I could be swayed by money, but for some reason all my previous conviction over my decision was slowly slipping away.

Lottie was preparing the training room for me and Derek when I walked in, my mind still heavy with Gary's offer.

"Hey!" Her brilliant smile was the only thing that managed to pull me out of my own head.

I hadn't seen her yet today. She had made the executive decision the night before that we should sleep at our own places solely because we still weren't getting much sleep when we stayed with each other, and she didn't want to be the reason that I wasn't prepared for today's game.

Lottie pulled a heating pack out for me and met me at one of the training beds. "How are you feeling?"

"Rested and ready for today," I told her because that was how I had felt up until thirty minutes ago. I had mentally prepared myself on the ride over to the stadium and had felt ready to take on the Dallas Hogs, a lower-ranking team in this year's playoffs. But teams like that were typically the ones that snuck up on you after you wrote them off as a win before the game was even played.

"Anything feeling sore or that you want to put extra attention on?" Lottie asked me, slipping right into her physical therapy mind. "I want to go through all of the exercises for your knee still, but if there's anything else, we can also do that."

I tried to stay present as I worked through the exercises with Lottie, but all I could think about was how long she'd held out on pursuing anything with me to keep things professional.

How would she feel if I decided to play another year?

Should I tell her now?

Would she understand?

"I'm so sorry if you are trying to get in the zone," Lottie said, bringing me back out of my thoughts. "I just want you to do these last few exercises to wake up your stabilizer muscles and then you can head out to the field to get some throws in."

Lottie kept her distance because she thought I was trying to focus for the game. She had no idea about the mental interrogation I was giving myself.

The line of questioning switched from any concern I had about how Lottie would take it if I decided to return for one last year to if I was actually ready to give this up the second I stepped out of the tunnel and onto the field.

The stadium was nearly already full, and the place erupted in cheers as I walked out—a hero's welcome.

Am I really ready for this to end?

"How are you feeling?" I turned to see Caleb standing next to me, his eyes wide with awe as he took in our stadium like it was the first time.

"I'm good. How are you doing with all of this?" I asked him, gesturing to the increase in media and the higher energy levels.

"It feels like I'm riding some sort of high," he told me with his eyes still scanning the stadium. "I'm sure this is old news to you having done this so many times."

I shook my head. "It never gets old."

A little boy near us was screaming my name and waving a foam football and a marker. I walked over to him to sign what he was holding before returning to Caleb.

"They love you," he observed. "I just hope I can fill the big shoes you're leaving behind."

Guilt clawed at my throat, reminding me that I was clinging to something for selfish reasons and ignoring the signs that it was time to go. "You will. You have so much talent."

"You've done so much for me. I wish I had a few more years to learn from you," Caleb continued, conflicting my emotions even further.

I reached over to grasp his shoulder. "Maybe you will. We will just have to see."

I watched the confusion cross his face before I turned to leave him, only to come face to face with Harper Nelson, one of the ESPN reporters.

"Hi, Nolan!" Harper's megawatt television smile nearly blinded me. "Do you have a second for a few questions? I won't take up too much of your time, I know you're trying to get ready for the game."

Normally, I avoided reporters before the game and most of the time reporters understood that. But I respected the hustle that Harper Nelson had. She worked harder than nearly all her peers and she was half the age of most of them.

"Sure," I told her.

Harper looked surprised that I agreed for only a split second before she snapped back into her professional demeanor and flipped her notes app open on her phone.

"You were vocal at the end of last season that this would be your last. But with a season plagued with injury, I'm sure you would agree that this hasn't been the ideal final season for someone like Nolan Hill." Harper looked up at me expectantly, awaiting my answer.

"I would agree that this season hasn't quite met the hopes that I originally had for it," I told her.

Harper powered on with her next question. She didn't dance around players' responses because with every conversation she was on a mission to achieve the one goal she set out with at the start: to find a good story. "Is it true you are considering coming back next year? Reports from the Bobcats are that you may be coming back for one more year."

And there it is.

Had Gary tipped her off?

Anger flared through me that my choice to make that public had been taken from me. I knew this was all business, but for me, this was my life.

I now had two choices. I could either tell her that I had no plans of coming back next year to play and use that as an opportunity to put the coaching staff on the spot with my offer to take over the quarterbacks coaching position, or I could tell her that I had started to consider what that might look like if I came back for another season. Both would have consequences I'd have to live with. The question was which one I truly wanted.

"I've had conversations about coming back next year and I'm exploring all avenues of what makes sense for me and my career," I finally told her.

Judging by the way Harper's eyebrows shot up, she wasn't expecting an answer like that from me. I hadn't indicated at all this entire season with any of the press that I'd been thinking of rescinding my idea of retiring.

"Thank you." I excused myself while she was still shocked from my response before I could potentially stumble into any other situations.

As I walked back to the locker room to change into my uniform, I knew phones across the country would be notified with my response to Harper Nelson's question in minutes. Analysts would dissect my response and play out every angle. Fans would either support or put down the idea of me coming back. Gary Martinez would get excited that I might just be considering his offer.

But what no one truly understood was how hard this season had been for me. Not many people had to face the end of their careers so early in their life and be forced to pivot into something else. The average person celebrated the end of their career with retirement—a true retirement where they went on an extended vacation or played too many rounds of golf. I didn't have that luxury, because while I was paid a lot for my time in the NFL, I still wanted an income for when I wanted to start a family or take care of my parents when they inevitably needed the help.

That comment would be scrutinized by many across the nation because it was easy for others to add their opinion on someone else's life simply because it took the focus off their own. I didn't feel I deserved to be judged or crucified over struggling with a decision only a few thousand people ever had to make.

Even still, I knew I'd be facing a reckoning once this game was over.

The locker room had emptied a while ago as I continued to sit in my cubby, replaying the win in my head and the reality that I was heading toward my third NFC Championship game of my career—one step away from the Super Bowl.

No one had brought up my comment to Harper during the game, but I noticed the way the coaches snuck glances at me as if I were a jackpot that they were a dice roll away from winning in Las Vegas.

"Are you really considering playing again next year?" a soft voice asked me from the entry of the locker room.

Lottie stood in the doorway, looking much smaller than her full height, as if she weren't sure if she should be here or not. My heart sank when I noticed the hurt that she was trying her hardest to keep from showing on her face.

I crossed the room in three quick strides until I was only a foot from her, close enough to notice the tear stains on her cheeks.

Who the hell made her cry?

The thought that someone had done something to hurt her bad enough for her to cry made my chest become unbearably tight. I reached for her, wanting to pull her into a hug as words seemed to escape me. I wanted to do whatever I could to try and comfort her, but she stepped out of my grasp.

"Are you really considering playing again next year?"

For just a moment, I wanted to punch Gary Martinez for taking any opportunity of discussing this with her and leaking that to the press to force my hand. I sighed when I realized the two of us were about to walk onto a battlefield together, except we might be on opposite sides.

"The coaching staff and Gary Martinez approached me a few weeks ago about playing again next year. It was when I'd asked about coming back to coach."

There was an almost inaudible gasp from Lottie at my confession.

"Weeks ago?" This time, Lottie didn't bother hiding the hurt on her face. "Why hadn't you talked to me about it?"

I had flashbacks of my previous relationship and how all Rachel cared about was how my career affected her. She loved the benefits but hated how my attention was often pulled away from her. As Lottie stood before me, anger radiating off her for not informing her on a decision that I had made for my own career, I feared something similar happening.

"But only because we understand when it's time to stop choosing ourselves and start choosing the other person. It's a give and take." Hawthorn's advice from practice earlier in the week rang through my head like a warning, but I chose to ignore it. If Lottie wasn't going to think rationally, neither was I.

"Well, you hadn't decided yet if I was worth the risk, so I didn't feel like I needed to tell you. I wanted to make the decision for myself," I told her, a sour feeling filling my stomach as I realized we were gearing up for a knock-down-drag-out fight.

"I made it clear to you that I wouldn't date you if you continued to play! It's unprofessional and against my contract to date a player," Lottie exclaimed, throwing her hands up.

"Is that really what the problem is, Lottie? Because you seemed to decide against your own rules that we should give us a shot. You and I both know that there are easy solutions to that problem. I think you know there's something else happening here," I told her, hating how every sentence I threw at her felt like it was hurting me just as much as it was hurting her.

Lottie shrank away from me as if I'd physically hit her with my words. But now that I knew I'd hit the mark, I wasn't stopping. "What really bothers you about me coming back for another season?"

Her lower lip trembled as she looked at me like I was someone she didn't recognize anymore. But then I watched her steel herself as she prepared to answer me.

"I watched my father continue to choose football and his career over his family and I refuse to let history repeat itself. His choices made my mother a shell of herself and forced me to grow up much quicker than I needed to. I don't want to see myself constantly put on the back burner so you can cling on to the last bits of your career." The hurt in Lottie's eyes slowly turned into a determined fire as she tried to repair the armor I had tried my best to damage.

"I thought you said you'd support me in whatever I wanted to do," I reminded her. I had no idea why I was still trying to add gasoline to the fire, but the words slipped out of my mouth on their own.

"Of course I will," Lottie replied, exasperated. "I will always support you. I want you to make the decision that's best for you. But if your decision is not what's best for me, I can still support you while also choosing myself. I still believe you'll be a fantastic coach, Nolan. And I'm excited for when you realize what I see in you. But I think it's for the best if we stop seeing each other until you figure out what you want to do with your life."

I never expected fighting with someone you truly love to hurt so badly. It was like fighting without any armor. And it was as Lottie suggested that we stop seeing each other that I finally realized that I did truly love her. But it was clear we both had things we needed to address. To love each other, first we needed to learn to love ourselves better.

"This conversation is not going the way I had wanted it to." I scrubbed a hand over my face as I let out a sigh.

I began pacing.

"I've never admitted this out loud to anyone before, but I've been terrified for the end to come because I'm afraid that once I'm on the other side of this, I'll realize that was the best life had to offer for me. I'm afraid that there's nothing else that I'm truly good at or that will bring me the same joy I feel when I play."

Lottie studied me, her head slightly cocked as she watched me lay out all the pieces of myself that I normally hid from everyone else.

"I'm aware that taking this offer might be selfish. I would be taking away an opportunity from Caleb and potentially ruining the team's future if Caleb gets traded. What's even worse is that I hadn't even really considered the offer when they gave it to me—not until they offered me even more money than my current contract. I would have liked to think I was the kind of person that couldn't be bought, but that was the only thing that had me second-guessing if I should do it. Maybe it's not about the money. Maybe this offering stroked my ego that they wanted me that badly."

Every few sentences I stole a glance at Lottie, fearful that she'd be looking at me with disgust. To my surprise, her eyebrows were pulled together and she looked like she wanted to reach out to let me know she was there. It was the only thing that gave me the courage to keep going.

"I know in my heart that I must make the best decision for myself. The problem is that I don't know what that is yet. What I do know is that you have managed to melt the frost on my heart that grew over these last few years. You've managed to make me into a better man—one that might be capable of treating you right …" I paused. "Might even be capable of truly loving you right."

Lottie froze.

"I want to kiss every scar that time has left on you, Lottie. That your father has left on you. I want to give you the life that you've always deserved. I truly believe that."

A gasp sounded through the room as Lottie flopped down into the chair at her desk. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her hands up and down as she wrestled with how to respond. A single tear broke free and trailed down her cheek as she stared down at her empty desk.

"I want to move forward with you, but I don't think I can," she finally choked out. "Maybe we are meant to be in the future, but I can't risk letting myself get hurt. Not again. Not right now."

"I dare you to let me treat you right," I fought back. "I promise you it'll be worth it. I know it. Let me prove it to you."

I never thought I'd ever beg for anyone, but there was a first time for everything.

Lottie shook her head. "I can't."

I sighed. A part of me had always known this was how this conversation would end as soon as I started it. Nothing had changed for either of us, so I was only rehashing the same things expecting a different result. Albert Einstein had a word for that.

"I don't think you can either," I told her. "Not until you can forgive the man who broke your heart first. Because I don't think it was ever healed."

The moment I turned to leave, I realized I had never really felt real pain until then. Not even with all my injuries. The kind of pain that physical therapy couldn't fix was far worse because there was nothing but time that could heal it.