Chapter 2 Austin Graham

Another Christmas I’ll Spend Alone

Four Weeks Until Christmas

“I’m sorry,” my mom says.

She’s sorry. She’s fucking sorry.

It’s yet another Christmas I’ll spend alone.

This is why I hate this holiday. Every year, I get my hopes up that things will be different. Every year, I’m disappointed when I fall into the same goddamn trap.

“It’s fine,” I lie. “I have practice on Christmas Day anyway. I have to go.”

I hang up without saying anything else. We’re not really close enough for more words anyway. This was her obligatory annual call to let me know she’s not coming to Vegas for Christmas.

I don’t particularly want to spend the holiday with my family anyway. I’ve come in second with them my entire life, and getting together with them is a reminder that even in my personal life, I’m never first to anybody.

I made it all the way to the goddamn NFL, and I get to come in second as tight end number two. Or three, depending on the day and how well Chase Morgan is executing.

When Ben Olson retired, it was finally my turn. I was finally going to be the sole starting tight end for the Vegas Aces. Sure, I start games, but the Aces have traditionally run an offense that only required one on the field at a time. This was it. My shot. Fucking finally.

And then a new head coach brought in his baby brother to start over me, and I’m back to being second best.

It’s the goddamn story of my life.

You’d think the glory of getting drafted and being good enough to get a spot on the fifty-three man roster would be enough. It’s not.

I have fought tooth and nail to get where I am, and for what?

To sit out half the plays. To be a bystander. To watch someone else get to execute when I can’t. To sub in when the starter gets tired or when our team is so far ahead it won’t matter if I fuck it all up.

My competitive edge is starting to wear thin. I’ve resorted to devious tactics I’m not proud of to try to get ahead, and somehow even that has bitten me in the ass every damn time.

Every goddamn time.

I think it stems back to when I was five. I barely remember it, but it’s a feeling I associate with my childhood. My parents decided to divorce, and I found out on Christmas Day. They were whisper-yelling at each other in the hallway, and I heard every word.

I was their only kid. My dad left, and I don’t really know what happened to him. He just disappeared one day. My mom said he died a few years later, and my mom remarried. She had a kid with her new husband, and I was the third wheel. I was there because my mom didn’t have anywhere else to send me.

It’s why I turned to football. I found a family there—a brotherhood—a place where I fit in when it felt like I didn’t fit in with my own family.

And now she’s choosing my half-brother over me. Again. As usual. She’s going to New York for Christmas to spend time with Carson, his wife, Tamryn, and their kid.

My mom hasn’t been out to meet Mia. She’ll be a year old in a month and a half, and her grandmother hasn’t met her yet. At least her grandmother on my side hasn’t.

Her grandmother on Kelly’s side is pretty dope.

But my mom? She hasn’t been to a single game this season.

Let me know when you’re starting. I’ll come then.

I guess starting is the only way to make her proud. I officially give up.

She lives in Florida, where I grew up. Geographically, New York is closer to her than Vegas.

But she’s made the same choice every year. Geography doesn’t matter. I’m still second best to Carson. I’ll always be second best to Carson, to starting tight end Asher Nash…fuck, even to whatever idea Kelly has in her head about me that’s stopping her from being with me.

I’d love to figure out some way to get out of the rut I find myself in. It feels like I’m very nearly at rock bottom, which sounds so ridiculous as an NFL star who seems to have everything from the outside.

I don’t. I don’t have anything at all…except for my baby girl.

She’s the one bright spot in an otherwise gray world. She’s what keeps me going. She’s my motivation to keep fighting, to work harder…to show her mother that I’m not the same guy who sold a video of my teammate to the highest bidder because of my grudge against his whole family.

I get it. It was a stupid decision that hurt her best friend since she’s married to that teammate—or former teammate now, anyway.

But goddamn, she’s been holding onto that grudge for a long time now. It’s been a year and a half, and we tried reigniting things on and off when she was pregnant and after Mia was born.

During the time she was pregnant, I did another stupid thing when I bribed Terry Lawrence to be extra tough on Asher during practice. I caught hell for it, but it didn’t stop me from doing other things to sabotage my teammates.

“Accidentally” bumping into players during practice to make them look unprepared and unreliable, “forgetting” to share important notes, making weak blocks when I knew it would cause someone else to take a hit—yeah, I’ve done all those things.

But they haven’t garnered me the starting position. Instead, they’ve cost me my reputation in the locker room. That family I found through football? They’ve scattered, much like the family I’m related to by blood.

Everything was easier a few years ago—back before Lincoln Nash was named the head coach of the Vegas Aces. I was one of the crew. We were all members of the same exclusive private club, and then shit hit the fan when a list of members was released to the public. The club survived somehow, but it’s not like it used to be.

And then Kelly found out I was still a member after we’d been seeing each other a while. Combined with her somehow knowing everything I’ve done, I guess she determined I’m not mature enough for her liking.

But ever since Mia was born, I’ve started fighting harder.

I want to be someone my daughter can be proud of someday, and to me, that means being a starter.

It also meant withdrawing my membership at the club, though it hasn’t come up with Kelly since I left.

We all slip up sometimes. We take advantage of situations when we see ways they’ll benefit us. It’s not right, but it’s the example my mother led by, and it’s all I’ve ever known.

As I stare down at a picture of my little girl on my phone’s lock screen, I realize how very badly I want to break the cycle. I don’t want Mia to be like me, and maybe it’s for the best for her to only get to see me once a week.

But I want more. I wish I could have more. The thought of coming in second to Mia—to some other guy her mother starts seeing who might get more time with her than I do—tears me apart. It claws at me and hurts like the worst sort of pain I’ve ever known.

But her mother isn’t seeing anyone right now, so I’m holding onto hope that someday she’ll change her mind about me.

Maybe that means changing who I am, too. Maybe it means stepping up the way Kelly would want me to.

And as for Christmas, well…I guess, apart from dropping off a gift for my daughter, it’ll just be another day of the week for me.

I head to the Complex, the practice facility for the Vegas Aces, and I hit the weight room ahead of practice. I spot a few of my teammates in the locker room, but I can’t say I’m particularly close to most of them anymore. I used to be close to some of the wide receivers. So close that we even had a crew that got together every week for drinks. But they’re married now with families, so the Thursday Night Crew has changed.

I’m on the outside now, even though I have a kid now, too.

I pulled too many stunts for them to trust me, and it’s easier for them to keep their tight bond and write me out of it.

I’d say I’m probably closest to the two tight ends who aren’t related to the coach, and that’s about it. I mainly keep to myself, and I feel every inch of that as I walk into a lonely locker room on a Saturday ahead of game day.

It’s all part of that feeling of rock bottom. I wonder if getting out of Vegas would be any better, but trying to go somewhere else would take me away from my daughter. I’m already short on time with her. I don’t know how I’d handle living in a different state entirely.

But you know what they say about rock bottom.

There’s only one way to go.