Chapter 14 Asher Nash

What’s in Australia?

Minicamps are over, and the next thing on my calendar is training camp, which starts toward the end of July. Apart from a few engagements my publicist committed me to, I don’t have a whole lot going on for the next month.

And I certainly don’t want to spend it here in Vegas reminiscing about the woman who disappeared into thin air, nor do I want to spend it playing poker with my father every night.

I head into the training facility to talk to Lincoln on the Friday morning after the charity ball.

It’s my last chance to attempt to find her, and if it doesn’t pan out, then it was never meant to happen, and I need to get the fuck over it and move the fuck on.

His door is open, so I knock on his doorframe. When he glances up, his eyes focus on my shirt. He rolls his eyes.

“What?” I ask. I glance down at the neon lightning bolts.

“I’d invite you in, but I’m worried about electrocution.”

“Then don’t go out in a storm with metal in your hand, dickhead,” I say.

He flattens his lips at me. “Cut that shit out. What do you want?”

I walk in and plop into the chair on the other side of his desk. “Two things.”

He sighs. “One?”

“I want to take on a leadership role with the squad this year.”

“Mentor the rookie tight ends, then,” he suggests. “Our only formal leadership positions are captains, and those are snagged by people who’ve been around longer than you and who weren’t suspended for a year.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” I say dryly.

He shrugs. “Truth is hard, bro. Lead by example.”

“What about the resident bad boy who cleaned up his act?” I suggest half-jokingly.

“ Have you cleaned it up, though?” he asks.

“I’m trying to. But that suspension, man.” I shake my head. “It’s following me. It’s a shadow I can’t kick.”

“I’m not sure you’ll ever fully kick it,” he says, gentling his tone a bit. “At least not here in Vegas. Memories are short for the good things but long for the negative.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“So work harder on positive press, then. Try to replace that shadow with a good one. Maybe move out of that place you’re sharing with Dad,” he suggests, and that thought hadn’t occurred to me.

Maybe part of what’s keeping that shadow hanging around is the fact that the guy who was my accomplice in the whole thing is still glued to my side, goading me toward the wrong choices. But he’s my dad. It’s easy to believe he wants the best for me, even if it isn’t always true—even if sometimes he wants what’s best for himself.

And it’s not just that. I can’t abandon him. He was there for me when I needed him, and maybe he needs me now.

“Did you have a second thing?” he asks.

“Oh, right. My extra ticket to the charity thing. Who ended up with it?” I ask the question casually even though my heart starts to race.

He shrugs. “No idea. Why?”

“Just curious,” I lie.

“Sorry. I gave the ticket to Steve, and I don’t know what happened to it after that.”

Steve. I could go ask Steve, but that would be even weirder than sitting here asking my brother about it.

I need to let it go, and I think in order to do that, I need to get the fuck out of this place for a while.

“Anything else?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I sigh as I make a snap decision. “I’m heading out for a few weeks. Is there anything I need to know while I’m gone?”

“Heading out for a few weeks?” he repeats. “Where are you going?”

Fuck if I know. Out of here. I need a distraction, and the only time I ever really feel distracted is when I’m traveling. “Australia.”

It’s the first place that comes to mind.

“Australia? What’s in Australia?”

“Kangaroos, the Great Barrier Reef…” My lack of knowledge chooses that moment to show up. “Oh! The Outback.”

“Like…the steakhouse?” he asks.

“Well, yeah. Outback Steakhouse is themed around Australia, isn’t it?”

He shrugs. “I guess. How long will you be gone?”

“A month.” The words are out before I can stop them, but I don’t have any reason to sit here fixating on a fucking ghost.

“With who? Dad?”

“Fuck no. If anything, he’s one of my motivations for leaving town for a while.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Can’t really blame you for that. I don’t think there’s anything here you need to worry about. Try to stay in shape. Watch out for the crocodiles and be sure to hydrate.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, and I give him the salute.

“Travel safe, brochacho.”

I nod as I stand. “Will do. Hi to Jolene and the kids. I’ll bring a boomerang or some shit back for Jonah.”

He chuckles, and I head for home, where I look up flights to Australia and book one leaving in the morning and returning in four weeks. I look up places to stay and find a gorgeous house near the beach, and it even has a pool.

It’s not the first time I’ve ducked out of town at the last minute, and I’m certain it won’t be the last.

I toss all my laundry into the machine that rarely gets used since I have a service that comes to do my laundry for me, and I add in a few of the soap pods to get it going.

“Are you doing laundry?” my dad asks when he walks in. He tilts his head toward the laundry room.

I nod. “I’m heading out of town in the morning and wanted to pack clean clothes.”

He nods at my lightning shirt. “I see you scraped the bottom of the clothes barrel with today’s choice. I always do that, too—wear whatever I’m not planning to pack the day before I leave for a trip. Where are you headed?”

I ignore the jab about my clothes. “Australia,” I say nonchalantly, as if I’ve had this idea planned for months instead of minutes.

“Australia? Why is this the first you’ve mentioned it?”

I shrug. “Oh, didn’t I mention it?”

“Who are you going with?”

I need to back slowly away from that question, or I’ll somehow find him sitting on the airplane beside me.

“Dude, why all the questions? I’ll be back in a month.”

“You’re leaving for an entire month, and you didn’t think to clue your roommate in on that?” he asks.

“Oh, knock that shit off,” I say. “You agreed when we moved in together that you weren’t going to be standing over my every move.”

“Fine, fine,” he says, holding up his hands. “I’m going to miss my number one pal.” He slugs my shoulder playfully.

“I’ll miss you, too, Dad,” I say.

Is my dad one of my best friends? Probably.

And to that end, I think I might need some new friends.

Or, at least, I need to form tighter bonds with some different people. Maybe the rookies Lincoln mentioned. If we could drop Austin Fucking Graham, I’d have a much tighter bond with the tight ends. Hell, I’d organize poker nights or strip club visits if it was the right combination of guys, but as it stands, we don’t have the right chemistry for shit like that.

Graham is a dad now, though, and hopefully that changes his perspective on shit. I don’t know if he’s with the mother or not, but I know kids changed Lincoln, and I’ve seen it happen to other guys I’ve played with, too.

That’s the kind of shit I’m not ready for, though. To be able to take off for a month to Australia for the hell of it because I want to—now that is the kind of lifestyle I want.

Having kids, being tied down…it’s not for everybody.

Would having a woman at home be nice? Sure, it would. But maybe that’s not for everybody, either. Just because my brothers all have that now doesn’t mean I should.

For a minute, I might have fallen into some sort of trap thinking it was for me. I was wrong.

And as I step onto the plane that’ll take me to Los Angeles before I board another one that’ll travel seventeen hours toward Sydney, excitement steps in the place of whatever feelings I had after the charity ball.

Yeah…this is definitely the life for me.