Chapter 38 Desiree Dixon

The Right Man for the Job

I sensed it last night after I told him I was moving to Vegas. Maybe I shouldn't have told him. Maybe he thinks my entire decision hinges on what's happening between the two of us, but in truth, there's more to it than that.

I wouldn't move my entire life to a new city solely because of a man, but my parents are there, and I already have a job offer. It feels like all the pieces fell into place at the right time, and that's what drove my decision, not the great sex with the football player.

But I think I've scared him off at this point. I hope that's not the case, but he’s pulling back, and I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do about that. The reply to my text was a very clear brush-off, which hurts more than it should since we never promised each other anything.

It hurts because it feels like history is repeating itself. It was the first step to Clay breaking my heart three years ago, and here we go again.

But this is different. Asher and I…we were never really dating. We didn’t fall in love.

We had a few good nights together, and the sex was great, and we were starting to form a foundation, but that’s it. We didn’t get that first layer of cement strong enough to build on top of it, I guess.

Maybe I'm making too big of a deal out of this. He does have intense practices and a game on Sunday. I grew up around this life, so I know what his schedule is like. I try to cling to that rather than to disappointment. Maybe I should take him at his word rather than feeling like I’m dropping off his priority list.

It’s just my past coming back to haunt me. It has nothing to do with Asher.

Except…it feels an awful lot like the same thing.

In the morning, I head to the Complex to meet with Erin. I haven't told Angelica that I'm leaving yet, but I get the process moving to secure my position with the Aces. The offices are fairly quiet when I arrive, which is another reminder that both players and coaches are busy as they prepare for Sunday's matchup.

After I meet with HR, I head down to my dad's office to say hi. I stop outside the open door when I hear voices, and I recognize one of the voices as Asher’s.

“I know you said you wanted an outline by Wednesday, but I got it done last night.”

I hear some papers rustling around and a long pause, followed by my dad's voice. “Holy shit, Asher. This is fantastic.” More page flipping, and then my dad says, “I knew I picked the right man for this job.”

I have no idea what they’re talking about, but I also feel like it's probably not my business even though the office door is open. I turn and weave through the maze of hallways to let myself out as I think about how Asher is the right man for my job, too.

That conversation made it clear that my dad and Asher have become close, and I wonder if that is pulsing even more of a hesitation in Asher regarding the two of us. He must feel torn between his obligation to my dad and his feelings for me, if they are even a fraction as intense as the feelings that I'm having for him.

I can't let this go, but I also don't know how to save it. I don't know how to fight against his history when it comes to how he feels about relationships.

He has openly admitted he's never had a serious relationship, and it scares me that his instinct is going to be to run, especially after our talk about commitment and how he felt about his parents’ divorce.

He is committed to football. That's where his first allegiance has been for his entire career, his entire life , second only maybe to the Nash family.

I do not fall into either one of those camps, and it's scary to think that I might end up disappointed—or worse, heartbroken.

My mom and I go out for dinner a little later in the evening, but my dad doesn't join us since he's working long hours drafting up the game plan for this weekend.

After we order and our wine is served, my mom says, “So you signed the paperwork with the Aces today?”

I nod. “I’m so excited for the opportunity.”

“You know you have to be an Aces fan now, right?”

I laugh. I’m a big fan of the tight end already, though I refrain from mentioning that. Instead, I shoot her a wink. “Unless they’re playing the Storm.”

She laughs. “Are you sure you don’t want a position with Berkshire?”

I press my lips together and shake my head. “The people you chose to run it are doing a fabulous job, Mom. I appreciate the offer, as always, but I’m not interested.”

“What about event planning for the hotel group? There’s plenty to do there.”

“I know, but you know how I feel about it.”

“Mm,” she hums as she presses her lips together in disapproval before she takes a sip of her wine.

“I know I’m a disappointment,” I say quietly.

“Oh, honey, no. That’s not at all what I think. I’m very proud of you, even more so because you’re strong and stubborn and willing to do things your own way. You remind me of myself in that way.”

I raise my brows. “You do things your own way?”

“My mom and dad never approved of your father, but I married him anyway.” She shrugs. “They drafted up an airtight prenup, but I knew we’d never need it.”

“I think that’s really sweet. Did you want a part in Berkshire?” I ask.

“Yes and no.” She lifts a shoulder. “I took on a bigger role than I probably should have, but I grew up around it. You didn’t. You grew up around football, and now that’s where your life is leading you.”

“I know Dad is solidly against me ending up with a football player, but what do you think?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Why? Do you have one in mind?”

I clear my throat as I do everything in my power not to give myself away. Thank goodness the lighting in here is dim because I can’t control the heat rushing to my cheeks. “No,” I lie.

“I think you have to be willing to brace yourself for certain things. Like with Clayton,” she says softly. “It’s hard. If you go into it expecting his full attention, you’ll end up sorely disappointed. But if you go in managing your expectations knowing you can’t be his top priority because he has an entire locker room depending on him, you’ll be okay.”

“Is that what you did?” I ask.

She nods. “We talked at length about what he wanted out of his future before we ever talked about a future together. I knew he wanted to play until his body couldn’t take it anymore, and then he wanted to coach. And I was fine with him being a position coach, but I knew he dreamed bigger.”

“Do you think he wants to be a head coach someday?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “He always wanted to be an offensive coordinator. I think he’ll stay here as long as he’s welcome, and then he’ll retire.” She takes another sip of wine. “You’re awfully inquisitive tonight.”

“Just curious since I’m going to be working with the same team,” I say, forcing nonchalance into my tone.

She nods as she presses her lips together, and I’m pretty sure she buys my answer. “Have you spoken with Angelica?”

I shake my head. “Not yet. I need to do it in person, so probably Monday.”

“Always a tough balance,” she laments, and I nod. “When are you moving here?”

“My official start date with the Aces is November first, so I only have two weeks. I won’t have an office there, so I’ll be working from home.”

“Home with Dad and me?” she asks with hope. “Or are you getting your own place?”

“You know how much I love staying with you, but I think I’d like a place of my own. Since it’s remote, I can take my time.”

She nods. “Of course. I’ll have Joyce get in touch. She’s the realtor we used when we moved.”

We chat about the best areas to live in and around Vegas, and then our food arrives.

“So how’s Dad adjusting to his new role?” I ask.

“He’s totally in his element and loving every second. He decided that every year, he quietly wants to take a player sort of under his wing and help that player be the best version of himself.”

“Oh?” I ask. “Who did he pick this year?”

“Asher Nash.”

I nearly choke on my salmon, but I manage to pull it together. “What’s he doing with Asher?”

“He saw a hole in the mentorship program, so he’s having Asher devise a whole program and implement it with one of the struggling rookies. I think it’s an incredible idea.”

Aha! So that was the project they were talking about. “Totally incredible,” I agree.

And it makes so much sense that he’d be cautious about being with me if he’s getting closer with my dad.

Still, despite both knowing and understanding all that, the call that comes Saturday night when players are staying at a hotel ahead of game day catches me completely off guard.

I spot his name on my screen, and a smile lights up my entire face as I answer. “Hey, stranger.”

“Hey,” he says softly. I haven’t heard his voice since Wednesday night when we had our Lake Mead date.

“It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Yours, too. And before I lose my nerve, I need to tell you something.”

Alarm bells ring out in my head. “What?”

He blows out a breath. “I’m, uh…going through some things with my dad, with your dad. It’s all getting overwhelming and complicated, and I think it’s probably for the best if we cut this off before we get too serious. Maybe we can revisit after the season. My contract will be up, and I’ll be potentially facing free agency. If I go somewhere else, even better. But I can’t keep doing this behind your dad’s back. It’s wrong even though it’s so goddamn right.”

He's babbling, but even if he wasn’t, I’m not sure exactly what I’d say.

I felt it coming, but it still takes me by surprise. It’s still a blow.

It still breaks my heart.

I’m silent as I look up at the ceiling to try to ward off the tears, and my chest feels like it’s cracking in half.

“Say something,” he whispers.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Say we can try again when the time is right.” His tone is desperate, and I wish I could promise that, but I can’t. I can’t wait around forever until he decides to be strong enough to take me on.

“I can’t guarantee that,” I say flatly.

He blows out a breath, and an awkward silence falls over the line.

“I get it. You shouldn’t wait around for me. You’re amazing, Des, and I want you to have everything you deserve.”

But what if what I deserve is you ?

I want to ask the question, but I don’t. I can’t—not when it leaves me open to the vulnerability of his answer.

“Thanks,” I mutter instead. “I need to go. Good luck tomorrow.”

I cut the call before he can respond, and then I cry myself to sleep.