CHAPTER 6 LINCOLN

She slides onto a stool at the bar, and she sits by herself chatting up the bartender. I remember that about her—her ability to be able to talk to just about anyone. It's probably only a small part of what led her into reporting.

It was something we shared in common. We could go to a gathering together and chat up anybody in the room even as teenagers. Between her way of captivating people and my charm, others were drawn to us.

But we didn't want to talk to anybody else. We only wanted to talk to each other.

Until we didn't. Until we couldn't. Until everything changed and we were both forced to choose sides.

We were teenagers. She was fifteen. I was seventeen. The choice wasn't really ours to make at all, not at those ripe young ages. But sometimes I wonder what would've happened if we'd been just a few years older.

I keep my head down as I finish my drink, but my eyes are drawn to her as memories seem to wash over me.

It was only one time.

But it was the time. Her first. My first.

Have I had better sex than that first time over the course of the last two decades? Sure. Of course.

But nothing has ever compared to the way I felt.

That's something that doesn't go away with time. That's something you can't compare. I was in love with her—or at least I thought I was as a teenager. I thought she was my future. She knew I was on track to play in college, and she understood the game from a perspective my other friends and classmates just didn't.

None of them had fathers still playing in the league. A handful of kids we knew had fathers who were retired, but our fathers both had us when they were young.

We were the exception, and it pushed us even closer together.

My dad married my mom the summer before he went to college because she was pregnant. They were high school sweethearts, and she gave up her dreams and aspirations of a career to stay home with me.

The Baileys had a similar story. Joseph and Joanna met in a communications class in college, and one drunken night after celebrating a big win where Joseph scored a pick six his sophomore year, he knocked her up. The two ended up getting married the day after their college graduation.

I stop ruminating on the past when the attractive woman who has been bringing my drinks over hands me the check. I sign it while she waits, and before I slide it over to her, she asks, "So did they offer you the job?"

Considering the location of this joint, I'm not surprised by the question. Surely those who frequent this place are big fans, and I would imagine the staff is, too.

"Still waiting," I admit, and I flash her the smile that's easily bedded women just like her in the past.

She blushes, and I can tell by the way she's gazing at me that if I was in the mood for a quick fuck, she'd be game.

But today, that's not on the agenda. It's time to get over to Jack's office and see what fate has in store for me.

I walk right past Jolene on my way out the door, but she's facing the bar and none the wiser that I was even here.

I think about glancing back at her—more out of curiosity than anything else, to see how kind time has been to her versus the filtered and photoshopped images of her online, not that I've looked—but I don't.

I have to keep my focus about me.

I can't let a girl like her distract me from what I'm doing here.

Or her tits.

If there's anything my father ingrained in me over the years, it's that drive. That focus.

He let a woman distract him. Sure, she's my mother, but he didn't hold back from telling me not to make the same mistakes he did…namely, to have a kid right out of high school when the NFL is calling.

When your father says that to you and he's talking specifically about you, you take it to heart.

I know he meant well. He said those things because he felt like he didn't have the time to give to his wife and kid.

Yet along came Grayson a few years later, and then Spencer and Asher.

I guess feeling like you don't have enough time for your kids doesn't put condoms in the cabinet.

I walk across the street to the Complex, and I head inside. I tell the woman at reception who I am, and she tells me where to go.

I don't feel nervous as I ride the elevator. Instead, an odd tranquility seems to wash over me. I've felt it before in this building, that sense of being home, as if this is where the next segment of my life is going to take place.

That's sort of how I view my life—in segments. There was my childhood, the Jolene segment, the aftermath, college, and then my various positions—the Falcons, the Bengals, and the Rams. Of them all, the worst was the one I dubbed the aftermath. There is nothing about that segment I'd want to relive, yet if this next segment is going to be the Aces, then pieces of her will certainly enter the equation.

I realize she's in my head, threatening the peace I'm feeling as the elevator doors open. I shake her out and head toward the secretary's desk.

"Mr. Nash, lovely to see you again. You can take a seat. Mr. Dalton will be right with you."

"Thank you, Lily," I say, correctly remembering her name and her voice from her introduction when she called me earlier but also because there's a nameplate on the desk giving away that detail.

The door opens before I even get the chance to take a seat, and Jack is standing there waiting for me.

"Lincoln, thanks for coming in on short notice," he says, and he holds out a hand for me to shake as I approach him. I study him for any sort of hint, but his face is blank.

Steve is sitting in the office, and I get the feeling there will be a lot more of these types of meetings in this very place with the same three men in attendance over the next few years.

Before either of us sits, Steve stands, too, and he nods at Jack.

Jack nods before he begins his speech. "Coach Nash, I've been following your career for years, and I believe you have the passion, the leadership, and the knowledge to take our team into the next generation. I'm thrilled to offer you the head coaching position for the Vegas Aces. I realize it's a big decision, and I'd like to persuade you with some of the attractive contract details Mr. Shanahan and I have devised. Have a seat." He nods toward the chair, and both Steve and I sit while Jack moves behind his desk.

He pushes a contract across the desk with a Vegas Aces pen sitting on top, and the top page is a summary of what's inside the contract.

"You'll see our base salary offer, which is ten million a year over the next three years. You can take a look through the guaranteed money and the bonus structure as well as additional incentives," he says, and I pick up the pile of papers and start reading through the contract.

The average base salary for head coaches is closer to six and a half million, so ten is a nice jump.

I would've taken far less, though I don't say that aloud. In fact, I ban the thought entirely from my brain. This is what I'm worth.

There's a clause in there for a buyout in the event I'm fired, but I won't be fired.

I will give this everything I have, and I will build a successful franchise.

Of course I'm taking the offer. But this is a business, and I still need to be smart about how I handle it.

"Thank you for this generous offer," I say. I set the papers down. I know I need to read through the contract. I know I need to share it with my lawyer. I also know I need to discuss this with the Rams. But I'm excited about this opportunity, and I want to express that to Jack and Steve. "I'm honored you chose me as the best fit to lead this team, and I promise I will not let you down. I'd like some time to review the contract, and I need to talk to my current team, but I would like to verbally accept your offer today."

Jack stands, so I do, too. He reaches out a hand to shake mine again. "Fantastic, Coach, and of course I understand. We are just so thrilled to bring you on board, and we're ready to see what you can do out there. Welcome to the Aces."

Steve stands, too, and shakes my hand. "Welcome home," he says.

Welcome home.

I can't wait to get started on this next segment.