Chapter Eighteen

Blake

C oach Wallace stands in front of the room. All of the players have come together for their weekly meeting. I've already attended the offensive team meeting, and I have a feeling this isn't going to be a good session. While we won our last game, it wasn't a blow-out at all. It was by three points, and we got lucky because of a missed call by the refs.

"This a championship team." Coach starts off, speaking quietly. "It has been a championship team—you're all wearing a ring that indicates that." He rubs at the bridge of his nose. "But what I saw on the field during our last game? That was absolutely not a championship team." His voice rises. "What I need you to do is get your heads out of your asses, stop believing your own hype, and play like you goddamn want to win another championship. If you don't play any better than you did last week? You're not even winning the fucking division. Get your minds right and earn the money you're being paid. If not, I have no qualms about replacing you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," we answer as a group.

It's never good to get your ass ripped by the coach, but it is what it is, and sometimes that's going to happen. I get up and follow the rest of the guys, and as I'm passing, I hear. "Blake, I have some things I wanna talk to you about if that's okay with you."

That's never good to hear, but you absolutely do not tell Coach no. "Want me to meet you in your office?"

"Yeah, but give me a few minutes. I need to call my wife and let her know I'm gonna be late tonight."

I inhale deeply before going into the locker room. For fifteen minutes I play around in my locker, cleaning it up, and debating on whether I should text Willa or not about our plans to meet up tonight. In the end, I decide that since this meeting is more than likely about her, I shouldn't press my luck.

When enough time has passed, I head toward the office and knock before I enter. "You wanted to talk to me, Coach?"

"Have a seat." He indicates the black leather chair across from his desk.

I take it, nervously putting my ankle up on my knee, trying not to let my foot shake and show the nerves flowing through my body. "I think I know what this is about, but I'm willing to listen to whatever it is you have to say."

He nods. "I'm sure you do, and I'm not accusing you of anything. I just want to have a conversation with you. That good?"

"Perfect. You know I'm willing to talk to you about anything."

"Okay. You've been with me since I came to Nashville. I'm the only coach you've ever had, and in my career, I've never coached another player like you. What we have"—he moves his hand back and forth between us—"isn't something that happens every day in the league. Hell, we've been together longer than some marriages." We both laugh.

"No, you're right," I say. "We have."

"Which is why I know I need to have this conversation with you, even if it sucks to have it." Coach rubs at his beard. It's a nervous gesture for him, the same way my feet shake. "I know you are as serious as anyone out on that field, but I heard about you and Willa. I know that it might not be something serious between the two of you, and you might just be having fun, but I need to be the person to tell you to be careful. You love with your whole heart, Blake, and sometimes that's detrimental to your career."

"I promise you I'm not going to do something that will hurt the team. As always, they are my number-one priority through the season." I swear, hoping that he'll believe me.

"I don't doubt that, but what I'm worried about is the attention she will bring. Will everyone be able to handle it? Will she come to the games?" Coach asks, putting his elbows on the desk.

"We aren't that far in, but I would think that she would want to come see me play. I would hope she would. I'd put her up in my family suite if she did. I'm more than sure she'd bring her own security so that HiLow Stadium wouldn't have to take care of it. If this gets more serious than it is right now, I will have a talk with the team and make sure they're okay with me bringing attention to them." I lay my plan out for him, hoping he will approve it.

"It seems as if you've thought about this."

"I have." Thanks to my brother. I run a hand along the back of my head. "I've thought about it a lot, but I have to give it a shot. I like her."

"And you should give it a shot. I just want to make sure we can all deal with it—including me. I'm gunning for another championship after we came so close last eason, and you know everyone else on the team is too. It shouldn't matter if she's a distraction, but you know as well as I do, if we start floundering, if we hit a skid, that's going to be the first thing anyone says." He taps his pen on the desk.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "These aren't things I haven't already thought about. While I'll be in a spot that's potentially uncomfortable for me, being in her world, it'd be stupid of me not to realize she's also going to be in an uncomfortable place. You know as well I do that if we get deep enough in that she comes to a game, the league is going to focus on it." My stomach cramps slightly, admitting this to Coach. It's like the more I talk, the worse it sounds.

He rubs at his chin. "That's one hundred percent the truth. They focus on CeCe when she comes, since she started the podcast with your brother. Anything the league sees that can make them appear to be better than they actually are, they're going to lean in to. More than anything, I need to know you can handle it. They're going to talk about her."

"They already do." I laugh. "I always forget you aren't on social media. You don't see what everyone says."

"What would you like to do when it comes to telling the team? I know this is your private life, but they have a right to know what's going to happen to them. This affects everyone, whether it be directly or indirectly."

The string of silence extends and expands between us. I've been thinking about what I need to do, what I want to do for the members of my team. We are a family. "Would you allow me to call a meeting and speak with them personally and privately before she comes to a game? I would listen to all their concerns and address them. I've been with most of these guys for the entirety of their careers, and most of mine. I would never want to make them feel as if they couldn't be themselves in their own home, ya know?"

Coach gives me a smile. "I think that's very mature of you, Blake, and I know it'll be very appreciated by your teammates. I know they like her music; I hear the locker room listening to her quite often."

"What is your opinion? How are they going to handle it?" I respect his thoughts almost as much as I respect my parents.

"They know you. They'll want you to be happy as long as the relationship isn't toxic. We've all been there. Remember Grady?"

I groan, rolling my eyes as I think about the rookie we had a couple years ago who argued with his girlfriend like it was an Olympic sport. "God, who doesn't remember Grady? That shit was a hot mess, and I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for a while because he was so young. However, when they started arguing during our practices and she made a sign to hold up at a game to tell him what a dick he was—I was done with the both of them."

Coach laughs so hard, he coughs. Clearly trying to bring it under control, he takes a drink of water. "I have never seen anything like that before. It was an embarrassment to us all. Remember? I had to pull his ass at half-time because he was so pissed and kept threatening to run up to the stands and give her a piece of his mind. It was the craziest thing I've ever seen, and trust me, I know you. If I had a thought that you would do anything like that, I'd jerk your ass in a knot so hard, the league would probably fine me for being an abusive coach."

I laugh along with him. "Nah, I'd understand because I'd deserve it. We're professionals, and we need to act that way. What they were doing was so out-of-this-world insane that I don't think any of us believed it at first."

"You know people are going to say the same about you, right? She's so famous—what's she going to be doing with a football player, and didn't she just break up with someone?"

I raise one eyebrow. "Coach, I thought you didn't follow anything. Here you are, knowing that Willa broke up with her long-term boyfriend."

"Well yeah. She's Willa Potter. I'd be living under a rock if I didn't know who she is or what she's doing."

I sigh heavily. "I'm done with you, Coach. Have a good night."

"Tell her I said hi..." he yells out after me, as I walk out of his office and back into the locker room.

The smile on my face won't fade, and I have a feeling it's not going to as long as I have her coming over tonight.