Chapter Eighteen

Romilly quickly learned the magnitude of just how influential Kaiden Demay was when her Etsy shop sold all her paintings. She also received a lot of DMs asking questions, from when she’d have more paintings to how Kaiden was in bed. A couple of men asked to marry her. Women wanted pictures of Kaiden, preferably without clothes, and they were willing to pay an astronomical amount.

When she went to the post office, people pointed at her. A couple of kids asked for her autograph. It wasn’t the mob mentality from the art show, but it was intrusive. She didn’t understand why people would be interested in her when it was Kaiden who was famous.

Kaiden’s image manager booked him interviews, including one in New York and one that was a podcast, so he had flown out the day before. He was due to come home the next day. She stayed home, painting, and changing her online store. Stepping into social media, she couldn’t help but check what people were saying. For the next hour, she went down a few rabbit holes. Even among the positive posts, hateful comments sprouted. People mentioned how Kaiden couldn’t do a few good deeds to wipe out the bad. She hated that his motivations were looked at with scorn and derision, even though he put his whole heart in the things he did.

When he returned, they tore each other’s clothes off, kissing and touching and exploring each other. As he stared into her eyes, he pushed forward and she gasped as he filled her up. His thick cock bumped against a spot deep inside her that caused pleasure to tingle through every cell in her body and short-wired her brain. And when he did it again, she couldn’t stop her fingernails from digging into his shoulders.

“Ah, yes, Babe,” he gasped. “God, you feel so good.”

She might feel good to him, but he kept doing that hip thing that drove every thought out of her head. Driving her over the edge, she came, splintering in a bazillion atoms of bliss. Never had an orgasm shook her so hard and she stared, dazed, up at Kaiden as he found his own release.

Laying content in his arms, she dozed on and off as his fingers drew lazy circles on her back.

“You can come watch training camp.”

That snapped her to attention. “Oh, um. Perhaps. I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“You won’t be.”

“It’s a little impractical for me to come to Illinois.”

“I’d send a car.”

“Let’s play it by ear. Okay?”

He kissed the top of her head. “Okay.”

****

Before he knew it, training camp had arrived. This would be the first time they’d be parted for more than a few days, and for some reason, this made him uneasy. Although he didn’t know why. Just that something nagged at him.

He pulled her into his arms and laid his head on the top of hers. “Are you going to text me?”

“Every night,” she promised.

“Even video calls?”

“If you want.”

“I do want,” he murmured. “Do you think you could do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Find me a house.”

She pulled back and looked up at him, blinking. “What?”

“A house,” he repeated. “I’m going to ask my mom to help put my house in California on the market, so I thought I could have you look for one here.”

“Oh,” she said, pulling away. “Of course. But you have to let me know what you want.”

“I was thinking about four bedrooms. At least two bathrooms. A finished basement. A pool would be nice.”

“Okay. Sounds reasonable. I’ll start looking for you.”

He kissed her forehead. “Thanks, baby. Call Crew’s friend, Paul. He can help narrow things down. Make sure you pick homes that would appeal to you. I like your style.”

She frowned. “Okay. Nothing cold and sterile?”

“No. I want a home, not a mausoleum.”

“I think I can do that.”

He smiled down at her. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

He leaned down and gave her a lingering kiss on the mouth, then picked up his duffle bag and left her apartment. When the door closed behind him, he hesitated for a moment, before forcing himself to walk away.

****

Training camp was held at a university, and the players would sleep in the dorms attached to campus. Usually, the rookies would arrive first, and have a few days of intense training before the vets appeared. But, since the Archers were made up of misfits and undrafted men, they all started together.

Ninety players came together to live, eat, and breathe football for the next two to three weeks. By the end of camp, only fifty-three would remain standing. Even though his contract had been snapped up by the Archers, that didn’t mean he couldn’t fuck up and get benched.

“Your number one priority on offense should be execution,” Coach Sigworth said, pacing back and forth. “We’re going to focus on small, careful plays, again and again. Until you’re dreaming them. Until you can run them blindfolded. Until all of you connect with one another. Those other teams out there have already written us off. They think you’re the castoffs. The derelicts of the NFL. Nobody wants you and everyone is laughing at you.”

A disgruntled murmur swept through the players.

“So, while you’re here, keep those words in your head. Let them fuel you on, because thirty-seven of you will not be joining us for the upcoming season.” Coach Sigworth clapped his hands. “Now, get out there and start sweating.”

They broke to start warming up.

Crew nudged him. “Our life for the next couple of weeks.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, brother.”

“Yep.”

It was the start of existing in a bubble. Train harder. Play faster. Do better. He and the others awoke at about six a.m., tired and sore from the day before. Scarfing down a healthy breakfast before heading over to the gym for an hour of weightlifting, which felt more torturous as each day passed. Then meetings. Lots and lots of team meetings, followed by watching footage of the day before. After that, even more meetings, this time on offensive and defensive strategies, and although his position was offensive, it was good to learn how the defense of the other team might move.

The practice of the day was more for mental preparation. Walking through plays, discussing what was covered in the earlier meetings. Lunch offered a little downtime, when he would text Romilly and go over the pictures of houses she sent, giving his opinion.

“Hey, you,” Crew said, sitting down next to him.

“Hey,” Kaiden said.

“What‘cha looking at?”

“Romilly is house hunting for me. Your friend is helping her.”

Crew’s eyebrows went up. “You’re moving in together?”

“No, unfortunately,” he replied. “I have a feeling I have to whittle down her hesitancy.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t have to whittle too hard. The girl watches you with lovesick eyes.”

That pleased Kaiden immensely, and allowed a little shiver of guilt to escape the vault he’d placed it in.

“What’s wrong?”

Kaiden glanced at him. “Nothing but bruises. Why?”

“You had an odd expression on your face.”

Kaiden paused, wondering if he should tell Crew. Would that assuage the feeling of remorse? Or would that just open a floodgate he wouldn’t be able to rebrick behind the wall? It was best to probably forget that all together. Just let it die a quick death.

Just then, his cell phone rang and the name of the last person he ever thought to call him flashed on the screen.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Excuse me.”

He rose from the table and hurried away, trying to get a little privacy to talk.

“What do you want, Lareece?”

“Aw, is that any way to talk to the love of your life?”

He let out a snort of derision. “You are not the love of my life.”

“Hm,” she said with a huff. “I saw you with that frumpy little nothing in St. Louis. Really scraping the bottom of a barrel with that one.”

“Leave her out of this,” he warned. “She’s nothing.”

“Oh? Does lover girl know that?”

“Stop. You broke up with me, remember?”

“I broke up with you because you lost your NFL career.”

“I didn’t lose it, Lareece. Stop making shit up and tell me what you want.”

She was silent for a moment. “What is she to you?”

“She’s none of your business.”

“Well, I was wondering because rumor has it, you’d do anything to salvage your career. Even hide behind someone.”

Fear made his stomach clench. “Who’s saying that?”

She ignored the question. “One word from me and I can get you back on the team here. Playing for the best in the NFL.”

“I doubt it. It was your father who fired me.”

“Daddy sometimes makes mistakes. So, here’s what you’re going to do. Get rid of Miss Goody Two-shoes, apologize to my dad, and then move back to L.A.”

“Just like that, eh?”

“Of course, darling,” she purred.

If she had called weeks ago, he would’ve jumped at the chance. But not now. Not after Romilly. Not after Crew. For the first time in his career, he had this gut feeling he was where he needed to be. That he was becoming part of something great.

“I think I’ll stay in St. Louis. Have a good life, Lareece.”

“Don’t you dar e— ”

He didn’t want to hear anything more from her. She was his past. Romilly was his future. When his cell rang again, he shut the call down, then blocked her number.

He and Lareece had been on again, off again for the past year. Her father didn’t like him, especially after discovering he’d been fucking his daughter.

“You okay?” Crew asked.

Kaiden turned, and nodded. “My ex.”

“Bet that was a suck ass conversation.”

“Let’s say I got fucked and didn’t enjoy it.”

Crew winced. “Come on. It’s dessert time. Sugar always makes things better.”

Each day was a repeat of the day before. Hard work conditioning the body and mind. Plyometric exercises like box jumps, lunges, and squat jumps helped increase power and agility. Core strengthening exercises such as planks and Russian twists to boost stability, balance, and control.High-intensity conditioning drills, such as sprints and shuttle runs to build endurance. All of it paired with flexibility training made sure he was the best tight end he could be.

He had a lot to prove. Giving the proverbial finger to his last team.

By the end of training camp, Kaiden was tired and sore, but happy.

He couldn’t wait to get home and see his girl.