Chapter 17

17

LUCA

After mini camp ends on Friday, I have the week off before organized team activities get underway for the next few weeks. It’s also finals at USC.

I only have a couple of traditional final exams, and my professors have been nice enough to let me take them on the day of my choosing in the testing center. Part of me wants to get it over with, but the other part?

That part is a little bit afraid to go back to L.A. To be where Tori is. It’s probably the same part that shoves the image of her looking up at me from the hotel bed in front of my brain when I’m trying to study biomechanics.

She was completely right to stop that kiss. She shouldn’t have had to stop anything, though. And I’m the one to blame for that.

It’s not what I want . That’s what she said, and it kills me every time I think about it—knowing that I was pushing myself on her even after we already had the discussion about just being friends.

It shouldn’t hurt to hear her say she doesn’t want that with me. Neither of us got into this for an actual relationship, and I know myself too well to think I can hold and kiss Tori without getting attached. I already am. Really attached. If I were an octopus, all eight of my tentacles would be wrapped around her.

I just have to pull back a bit. Or a lot.

The last thing I need is my mind anywhere but on football. I’m living my dream right now, but I have a lot to prove if I want to keep living it, so I can’t afford to lose focus.

That’s why I drive up to campus while she’s at work on Wednesday, take my two tests, then head right back down to San Diego. I feel like a jerk, but both of us are just trying to live our lives, right?

If I drove to her office like part of me wanted to, the second I saw her, I’d lose the little focus I’ve managed to recoup.

I get a text from her as I park at the hotel, and my stomach drops.

Tori

I just realized it’s finals week! When are you coming up?

I stare at the text for a couple of minutes before responding.

Luca

I actually already took them. I just had two, so I thought I’d knock them out then get back to SD to study plays.

So that I don’t end up kissing you again . That’s the subtext.

My muscles are tense as I wait for her reply. The three dancing dots appear, then disappear.

I clench my eyes shut. I am a jerk . She drove to San Diego to go see houses she won’t even be living in, and I can’t bring myself to go say hi to her when I’m in L.A. Do I really have so little self-control?

A few seconds later, a GIF rolls through of a knockout punch by Mike Tyson.

Tori

You’re so studious. Graduation is on Monday, right?

Luca

Probably. I’ve got training, though.

You’re not going to walk?!

I’ll be too busy running till I can’t stand. I’m not really into ceremonies and stuff.

*sigh* There goes my plan.

Do I even want to know?

I absolutely need to know. I smile as I wait for her text to come through.

I was planning to run on stage and accept your diploma WITH you. Since I’ve been so instrumental in your education, you know. You couldn’t have done it without your super supportive wife.

You were gonna pull a Kanye?

Luca, I’m really happy for you, and I’ma let you finish, but…Beyonce had one of the best college degrees of ALL TIME.

Did Beyonce go to college?

No clue, but I’m pretty sure you can major in Beyonce now.

Oh, by the way, Austin asked for your phone number. I apologize in advance for whatever comes of that.

Nothing comes of it until I’m heading to training camp Monday morning and a slew of texts comes through. It takes me a minute to figure out that I’ve been added to a group text of the Sheppard brothers and brothers-in-law.

I shoot a couple texts back so I don’t seem like a jerk, then get dressed and try to get my head in the game. Today marks the beginning of organized team activities. A lot of us will be rookies, but a number of the more seasoned players participate despite the fact that it’s voluntary. It’s an opportunity to build team chemistry and work on non-contact drills.

There are already a few guys in the room when I get to my locker. There’s a guy in front of the one next to mine, his shirt off. We’ve never met, but I recognize him as Max Bennett, one of the other wide receivers. The only time he played last season was in garbage time when the team was already well in the lead in one of the last season games. One of the starting receivers suffered a career-ending Achilles rupture, and Bennett took his place.

He’s got sandy-blond hair and a short, manicured beard. He turns to me and looks me up and down, then smiles knowingly. “Callahan.”

I nod and put out my hand. “Bennett, right?”

A few of the other players turn to see who he’s talking to.

“That’s right.” He takes my hand and shakes it—tightly—still smiling. “You ready to sit on the bench this season?”

A massive guy with a shiny head and ruddy cheeks walks by and swats Bennett with his towel. “Don’t listen to Bennett. He thinks it’s his job to haze the rookies.”

“And Moose thinks it’s his job to protect his precious little calves,” Bennett shoots back, attempting to snap the guy, who grabs the towel like he just caught a fly out of the air.

“I’m Terry,” he says to me in his strong, deep voice as he drops the end of the towel, “but everyone calls me Moose.”

It’s not a name that requires explanation. The man’s a tank, and if memory serves, he’s our left tackle.

“Welcome to the Admirals.” Moose frowns as he looks me over. “You’re a wideout?”

“Looks more like one of your guys, doesn’t he?” Bennett says, nodding at the group of offensive linemen nearby. Bennett’s probably two inches shorter than me, but he’s also a lot leaner. I know from studying the team stats that speed’s a big strength of his.

“We could use a really strong receiver,” Moose says. “Right, DJ?”

The quarterback, Darius Johnson, looks up from his seat, where he’s studying the playbook. He clearly didn’t hear Moose, who repeats his question.

DJ surveys me with curiosity, then gets up and comes over. “You’re one of the new wideouts?”

I nod and shake his hand. DJ’s known in the League for his calm energy, but his firm grip exudes confidence. I’m looking forward to working with him after the louder, more aggressive style of our Trojan QB.

“Welcome to the team,” DJ says.

“Don’t get attached, DJ,” Bennett says with a wink. “We need speed, not an O-Lineman who missed his calling.”

Normally, I let trash talking slide. I’ve put in a lot of work to control my temper, and I’m not mad right now. But I’m also not going to let Bennett control the narrative.

“Speed’s not the only valuable skill,” I say.

DJ studies me. “It’s true. Coach Tate has a couple new plays where we could use some strength.”

“The Trips Right, 732 Y-Cross,” I say.

There’s a hint of admiration in the quarterback’s eyes. “How would you handle that one? Let’s just say you’re the X receiver.”

I frown, summoning the image of the play diagram. “I’m isolated on the weak side, so I run a deep post while the Z and Y on the strong side stretch the field with a vertical route, the Y crossing underneath. The goal’s to pull the safety away, leaving me one-on-one with the corner, or, if the coverage shifts, open up space for the cross.”

Silence follows, but DJ nods in approbation while Moose smiles and slaps me on the shoulder. “Someone’s been studying.”

“Nice work, Callahan,” DJ says in his calm voice. “Keep studying. I’m looking forward to seeing how you do on the field.”

He and Moose walk away, and my gaze shifts to Bennett, who looks at me for a second, then laughs softly and heads for the door.

I get the feeling he thinks I’m brown-nosing. Or trying to steal his position.

Which, to be fair, are both accurate to some extent. Of course I want a starting spot. Of course I want to prove I know my stuff. But I also have respect for the current players, and I trust he’ll understand that as we start running drills. If he thinks he can trash-talk me until I break down, though, he’s got another think coming. I learned how to steel myself against that from a young age, thanks to my mom’s boyfriend, Clint.

By the end of the first week of OTAs, I’ve met the majority of the team. A few of the star veterans haven’t come, but they’ll be at the mandatory mini camp and the rest of the pre-season training come July.

It’s a solid team. There are always interesting personality dynamics, but I try to keep my head down and work rather than getting caught up in the push and pull of team politics.

So far, I’ve grown closest with Moose, DJ, and Richins, one of the starting wideouts who doesn’t seem as threatened by me as Bennett. Louie did end up getting picked up by the team, but I just give him a wide berth, and he seems good with that.

“Is that Victoria?” Bennett asks as everyone changes after showering at the end of the day on Friday.

My eyes, which were on a text from Tori, sweep to him, and I set my phone facedown on the shelf of my locker.

He smiles. “No shame in texting your wife, Callahan. Just try to keep it PG-13.” He narrows his eyes as he surveys me. “I bet this all-day training is killing you, right? Newlyweds and all that. Louie said you two can’t keep your hands off each other.” He winks.

I glance at Louie, who’s got headphones in.

I don’t respond to Bennett because I don’t know what to say. I was texting Tori, but it’s weird to me that he knows her name. Or that he was looking at my phone. Our texts aren’t for public consumption—but not for the reasons he assumes.

“You did your research,” he says, “and I did mine. You two got married like six weeks ago, right? After you saved her from getting run over by a truck? Congratulations, man.”

“Thanks,” I say, but there’s a knot in my stomach. I don’t need him researching my personal life.

“Tell Mrs. Callahan hi from me,” he says, slinging his duffel over his shoulder and heading out.

I watch him leave, then pull in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Shake it off, Luca .

Saturday is moving day, and it’s the first time I’ve seen Tori since we made the no-kissing rule. I told her she didn’t need to help with the move, but she insisted, and I wasn’t strong enough to protest more time with her. I may be able to bench 320 pounds, but I’m not that strong.

A car pulls up as I’m taping up one of the last boxes, and I look through the open blinds, squinting. It’s not Tori’s car in front of my place, though.

My brows shoot up as Troy climbs out of the driver seat. Tori’s in the passenger seat, and Jack climbs out of the back.

Tori hurries to the front door, and I go to open it for her.

“Hey, sweetie,” she says loudly, her eyes wide as dinner plates as she pulls me into a hug. “You haven’t been answering your phone!” she whisper yells. “They would not take no for an answer when they found out you were moving today.”

“Tor,” Troy yells over, standing at the bed of his truck, “what do you want to do with your boxes?”

“Your boxes?” I repeat, looking at her.

“Yes,” she says, that same deer-in-the-headlights look in her eyes. “ My boxes. So that I have stuff there when I come stay with you on the weekends. Like a married couple.”

Suddenly, her more-than-usually frizzy hair and mismatching socks make sense. She must’ve shoved a bunch of stuff into boxes as fast as possible so Troy and Jack wouldn’t get suspicious that we were only moving my belongings. It’s already hard enough to explain why my everyday stuff is still at my place instead of at Tori’s. Thankfully, most of it’s already boxed up, so they won’t actually see the contents of what we’re moving. Which is literally everything I own.

Troy and Jack might not have been the most welcome sight at first, but their strength is definitely appreciated. I also genuinely like both of them. Between them and Tori, there’s a whole lot of banter and laughter happening amidst the grunting and box stacking. I get the sense that the Sheppard family doesn’t do boring or dull.

The four of us make quick work of loading everything into my car and Jack’s truck.

“You okay?” Tori asks as we caravan to San Diego, Troy and Jack bringing up the rear.

“Yeah,” I say. “Of course.”

She looks at me suspiciously. “You’re just…quiet.”

I am . I feel kind of weird inside, and I’m not sure why.

“Is it Jack and Troy? They’re a lot, I know. I promise I tried to persuade them not to come, but they always have to be involved. And you saw Jack constantly trying to one-up Troy with the number of boxes he carried. Troy’s been working out hardcore over the past couple years, and Jack can’t handle being outdone. And then Troy likes to tease Jack that even though Jack and Siena got married first, it’s Eden who’ll be ruling the grandkids, and?—”

“You’re really lucky.”

Tori looks at me for a second. “That I’ve got a weirdly competitive family?”

“That you’ve got a family.” I try to keep my voice casual and my eyes on the road ahead. “Not a lot of people have one who’d show up to spend the day helping them move. Much less helping a near-stranger move.” I check my blind spot and change lanes for something to do because I can feel her eyes on me.

“You’re not a near-stranger,” she says. “You’re part of the family.”

I glance at her, and it hits me. That’s why I’m feeling weird.

Today feels a lot like the night of the draft. The Sheppards treated me like I belonged. They didn’t hold me at arms’ length.

Some of how I’m feeling is probably guilt over our deception, but most of it, I think, is not knowing how to function in this environment. I’ve never had a proper family with brothers and sisters and a mom and dad who like each other. I didn’t even know that type of family existed. It always seemed like a creation of Hollywood or prime-time TV.

But it does exist. The Sheppards are proof, and they’re claiming me as one of them.

It almost hurts how much I want that, how much I want to be part of them. Not as part of some ploy to get my green card.

For real.

“You’re right, though,” Tori says. “I tend to take them for granted. I just wasn’t really planning to pack up my stuff and pretend to move. And now I have to figure out how to explain why I’m coming back to L.A. with them instead of staying in San Diego to help you settle in. But anyway, enough about that. I want to hear all about the team now that you’ve met them. Please tell me not everyone is like Louie.”

I’m not one to talk for long periods of time without encouragement, but Tori is the type to ask questions, so we pass the rest of the ride talking about the team and how OTAs are going. She doesn’t know much about football, but she’s determined to learn it. All on this car ride.

As for me? I’m just trying not to fall more in love with her every minute.

I’m pretty sure she’s having more success than I am.