Chapter 24 Austin Graham

A Developing Story

Two Days Until Christmas

My head throbs as morning dawns.

Going out last night was probably a dumb idea.

Scratch that probably .

It was a dumb idea, but it seemed smart at the time since I was flying solo and feeling the sting of nerves.

I had a shitty meeting with the team owner as he yelled at me for something I didn’t even fucking do. I tried to convince him I was innocent, and he relented a bit—but not totally.

My track record speaks for itself, and none of my coaches believe me. They were in the meeting, too—the head coach, the offensive coordinator, and the tight end coach. They were all there, and they looked at me with disappointment.

I demanded an appeal. They demanded a retest.

I’m trying so goddamn hard not to let it get me down, but I will fight like hell for my innocence.

I just need Kelly to believe me. Everyone else can kick rocks, but if she believes in me, that’s all that matters.

Asher texted me to invite me out for that beer we talked about, and I knew I couldn’t sit around the house waiting for the results staring at a Christmas tree that I’m not even sure I have the heart to decorate anymore.

So I went out.

I confided in him, and I was absolutely shocked when he told me he believed me.

“If you say you didn't do it, then I believe you didn't do it,” he said, and I've never felt more grateful for someone to actually believe me. It was what I needed in the moment, but I regret it this morning—or at least the drinking portion of it.

Now, I wait for test results that I shouldn't have to wait for because I know I didn't take anything I wasn't supposed to take. But then the thoughts turn dark as I start to doubt myself.

Was I drugged?

Is somebody trying to sabotage me?

Did Chase put something in my Gatorade so he'd get the starting position over me?

Hell of a fucking Christmas present.

These aren't things I should question and doubt, but because of who I am and the way I've acted towards people, they are.

That's on me. I should've treated people better, but as much as I'd like to, I can't change it. All I can do is deal with it now.

I feel shitty that I didn't answer Kelly’s call last night. I was at the Gridiron with a bunch of football players, and it was loud. I’d just confessed what I was going through to Asher, and I wasn't in a place to answer the call.

I was worried I’d wake her or Mia by the time I was able to call her, and besides, the way we left things yesterday…I’m just trying to give her space. I don’t want to come on too strong even though I want with everything in me for her to tell me she believes me.

Maybe I’m putting up walls. Maybe I’m avoiding her call because I don’t think I can bear to hear that she doesn’t believe in me.

And so instead, I’m waiting for the results of the retest. I wish I could say I’m innocent until proven guilty, but it appears I’m guilty, and now I need to prove my innocence.

The only reason I got any sleep at all last night was because I passed out, and I head to the shower to try to scrub away the hangover. It doesn’t work. I walk out to the kitchen to fry up some bacon and eggs.

I walk right past the tree I haven’t decorated yet. I turn on the television and flip to ESPN.

I’m only half-listening as I grab the supplies to make breakfast and start a Keurig to get some caffeine into my system. I need to beat this hangover fast so I can get to practice the second my test results come back in.

“Rumors in from Vegas this morning about the lab the Aces use for randomized testing mixing up specimens,” the reporter says.

I drop an egg on the floor at those words.

“This is a developing story.”

What the fuck?

I grab my phone, and I dial Jack Dalton’s office.

“This is Lily for Jack Dalton,” she answers.

“Lily, it’s Austin Graham. I need to talk to Jack.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Graham, but he’s on another call,” she says. “May I take a message?”

“Have him call me as soon as possible. Please.” I hang up before she can ask more questions, and I dial my coach next.

“Austin, what can I do for you?” Lincoln answers.

“I just saw a headline on ESPN that the lab fucked up some of our test results. Do you know if mine were included in that?” I blurt.

“I haven't heard anything about this, but I will look into it immediately.”

“Coach?” I ask, my voice tentative regarding what I'm about to say.

“Yeah?”

“I know we didn't get off to the best start when you came in here, and I apologize for my part in that. But I want you to know I would never do something like this. I may not always do the right thing, but PEDs? That's not my style.”

He's quiet, and then he says, “I know that, Graham. I never really thought you would, but you know we have to follow protocol. Human error is always possible, and I really hope that's the case here.”

“I can assure you, Coach, it is. Unless someone slipped me something, I never knowingly took steroids,” I say.

“I'll look into the claims you're making about this lab, and can I tell you something else Graham?” he asks, and he plows ahead without waiting for me to answer. “I like the fire in you. I like it at practice, and I like it right now. You're not backing down. Someone who had something to hide wouldn't do that. I just want to say I believe you. Maybe I didn’t at first because of your track record, but I do now.”

I grip the phone a little tighter in my palm. “I appreciate that, Coach. It means a lot after everything we've been through.”

“Keep fighting, and we’ll get to the bottom of what's really going on here, okay?”

“Thanks.” I cut the call and cross my fingers as I hope for the best.

It's an hour before I hear back from Jack’s office.

“Hi, Lily,” I answer when I see it's her calling.

“Mr. Graham, Mr. Dalton would like to see you in his office immediately.”

Everything's always immediate with this guy, but when you're as busy as Jack Dalton is, I guess my only option is to get my ass over to the Complex and meet with my team owner.

I show up and am immediately sent into Jack's office.

He’s sitting at his desk, steepling his fingers in front of his lips as he watches me walk in and sit across from him.

“You’ve had some tough breaks,” he says as I sit across from him.

I raise my brows and nod in agreement. “Feels like I've been fighting my whole life.”

“Well, you're getting good at it. I was on the phone with the lab when your call came through earlier. I have good news and better news for you. The good news is your second test results came back, and they’re clean. The better news is that your first results were skewed due to human error. The tech who collected your sample mixed yours up with another player’s.”

My breath hitches at that. I am in the clear, but that means one of my teammates is not. It also means that whatever teammate got called in the same day as me knows what he did and still managed to test negative.

I’m tempted to ask who it is, but I also don't want to know. Whoever it is has to have known that someone else took the fall for him when his results came back negative, and since I’m not out on the practice field today, he has to know it was me.

“I can tell you want to ask, so go ahead and ask,” Jack says.

“Who?”

“Morgan.”

I clench my jaw.

Jack shrugs. “I think he saw his opportunity to start and wasn't about to let it go by.”

I sigh roughly, my eyes flashing with fury.

“I don't blame you for being angry,” Jack says, “but think about what you would've done in his shoes before you got the starting position. Think about the things you did do. I think you'll agree you wouldn't have been innocent.”

I know he’s right, but my instinct is to protest. “But I never would have taken PEDs in the first place, and I never would've been stupid enough to get caught if I did.”

He chuckles. “Just remember the position you’re in now along with the reputation you’re working to build when you think about how you want to handle this. Neither Lincoln nor I want to see you in here the way we did not so long ago after you and Grayson got into it.”

I blow out a breath. I can't just let it go, but I also don't need this to cause irreparable damage in the locker room. He's right. I'm finally at a place that I can be proud of, and I'm not going to ruin it by fighting with a teammate—even if what he did was really shitty. I've done some shitty things myself. “Understood.”

“Good. Now get your ass down to practice, and send Morgan up. I’ll let you decide how you want to handle whether he gets a warning from you about what’s coming up here.”

I nod and turn to leave, and before I cross the threshold of the doorway, Jack says, “Graham?”

I turn back around and meet his gaze.

“Make me proud out there.”

His words are heavy on my conscience as I head down toward the locker room. People rarely say those words to me. I never had parents to make proud. I was only a disappointment to my mother. I’ve tried to make coaches proud, and fans, and teammates, but to be second best my entire career told me I wasn’t good enough.

But now, for once in my life, I have people I want to make proud, and I need to handle this in a way that will make them proud of me too.

I head down to the locker room and get my practice gear on, and then I head out to the field and touch base with Coach Bruce, who was expecting me.

“Welcome back, Graham.”

I nod at him and head out onto the field to join in on footwork drills the other tight ends are doing right now.

I glance at Chase—who looks surprised to see me here—and I clench my hands into tight fists, digging my nails into my skin as I fight with everything inside of me to remain calm.

He has to know he's fucked the second he sees me.

“JD-Five wants to talk to you in his office,” I say, dropping Jack Dalton’s nickname.

His eyes widen a little as if he knows he's caught.

“I know what happened,” I say to him, and I draw in a deep breath as I get up in his face. He flinches a little. “I understand why you did what you thought you had to do. I will not forget, but I think you are going to pay the price without me being the one who's issuing the punishment.”

He nods once at me as if he understands what I'm saying. He turns to talk to Coach Bruce for a second before he excuses himself to head upstairs.

I have a feeling my name will be in the news over the next couple days, and that's okay. Two days from now is Christmas, and the coaching staff decided to have us practice today and tomorrow and give us Thursday off to spend the day with our families since our game this week is a home game.

But as I’m practicing on the field, I realize what I want.

What I really want.

What I’ve always wanted.

What’s been within my grasp all along.

I need to go get it, to hang on tight to it, and to never let it go.

I'm not spending Christmas at home by myself.

As soon as I get home from practice, I’m booking a ticket to Chicago.