“C’mon, King. It’s not a hard question. Is it the money? Is it the celebrity status? Is it the women? Pick one.”
My gut reaction is to tell Coach that none of those answers are my reason, but any answer I spit out will be a lie. The truth is, I’ve never had to think that hard about it before. I just know I love football. Isn’t that enough?
“I don’t know what to tell you, Coach. You’re asking me this for a reason, and I’m not sure I can give you the answer you want to hear. I play ball because I’m good at it. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at. The adrenaline rush is a great feeling, the money is spectacular, and the women are a sweet bonus, but I’m not sure any of that is what drove me to start playing the game.”
Coach nods again. “Figured as much.”
That’s all he says until he parks in the driveway of my Lake Washington home. An awkward silence follows as my hand slowly reaches for the door handle. I’ve never been one for formalities, and the tension billowing through the air only makes me want to exit the vehicle as fast as possible. Before I can make a move to exit, the engine shuts off completely.
Shit.
Coach shifts, turning to face me. “I think it’s time you figured out why you want to play ball.”
After getting my drunk ass kicked and getting thrown in jail, I thought the last thing Coach would be concerned about was my desire to play football. “Um, sure. Okay.” I don’t know what else to say.
Coach rolls his eyes and settles his stern gaze back on me. “Let me say it this way. I will never again do what I did for you today. Do you understand me? It’s not my job to bail you out of jail. Nor is it my job to take advantage of my connections to clear you of your misdemeanor. While the crime may be minor, the publicity you managed to avoid should be considered yet another blessing in your life. If you’re not careful, you’re going to run out of those blessings, Kingston. No one will be there to clean up after your messes, and you won’t have a home on the field to come back to.”
Something twists inside me as anger and fear swarm my mind. “It will never happen again, Coach. I swear to you.” I shake my head, feeling suddenly desperate to forget the events of last night.
Coach nods. “I believe that you mean that. I also expect that you can understand that I’ll need to take some steps into ensuring the reputation of our team. We start practices in a little over a month, and I hope you can be there with us.”
I hope you can be there with us. Never have words haunted me so much. Heat blasts my chest while I temper my tone. “What does that mean?”
“What do you think it means?” he fires back.
There’s a fiery ball in my chest that threatens to explode. The only way I know how to diffuse it is to walk away, but I can’t walk away from this. This is my life. My livelihood. The only fucking thing in my life that has ever felt right. Still, I want to do anything but continue this conversation. Suddenly, the only thing I love in this life feels threatened, and no amount of confidence I have in my career can help me. I’ve never felt the weight of my future so heavy on my shoulders.
“I don’t know, Coach. I fucked up last night. What’s new? But what does it matter? Last night has nothing to do with football.”
“Last night has everything to do with football, King. That’s where you seem to be lost, and it’s time we set things straight.”
Coach doesn’t have to yell for me to feel his wrath. It’s a smack in the face, and I hear him loud and clear. “What do you want from me? Some kind of agreement that I won’t fuck up again? I’ll do it if that’s what you want.”
Coach tilts his head. “I had a different idea. Well, it’s Zach’s idea, actually.”
I frown as confusion makes its way through me. Zachary Ryan is Seattle’s team captain, and he’s extremely close with Coach. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that they talked, but the question slips past my lips anyway. “Zach knows about this?”
“He does, and I’m going to leave you in his hands with what comes next.”
“Huh?” My eyes dart between his. “What comes next?”
“You’ll find out tomorrow at five a.m. when Zach picks you up. Just have a duffel packed with some stuff to hold you over for a while. Workout gear, mostly.”
“A while? How long is that, exactly?”
“Not sure yet. Let’s start with one month and see how it goes from there.”
My jaw drops with so much force, I can feel the stretch that comes with my shock. “One month? But, Coach—”
“I trust you’ll make it work without complaint. Just be ready to go.”
My mouth snaps shut as I try to make sense of what’s happening, but I can’t for the life of me come to any positive conclusions. “Okay.” I draw the word out slowly before Coach nods for me to exit his vehicle.
“Five a.m. tomorrow,” Coach repeats through his open window as he’s backing out of my driveway. “We’ll talk again when you get back.”
He drives off without another glance, leaving me standing in the wake of my bad decisions. Whatever Coach and Zach have planned, I have a feeling I’m about to pay.
CHAPTER TWO
“They’re almost here.” My coworker, Hope, practically squeals the words as she charges into my office.
I look up from the stack of immunization records I was reviewing to find my friend’s normally light skin flushed and her brown eyes big and bright. Smiling, I press my hands on my desk and tilt my head in amusement. “They? The campers don’t arrive until Monday.”
She lets out a laugh and plants herself in the nearest chair. “No, not them. The Seattle players and that creative agency who host this whole thing. They like to come in a few days early for the initial setup, remember?”
I really should remember, seeing as this will be the third year the team has held their football camp at Camp Dakota. What started out as a one-week anti-bullying fundraising event quickly grew thanks to its popularity. For one month, Camp Dakota, along with BelleCurve Creative and the Seattle football team, hosts a month-long camp. Each week, we welcome new groups of kids and Seattle players. At the end of each week, there’s a scrimmage tournament to crown a team winner during the final ceremony.
“I guess I forgot. We see new groups every week. How do you expect me to remember a silly football event?”
Hope lets out an audible groan at my silence. “Seriously, Silver. How long have you lived here now?”
“At camp or in Washington?”
“Both.”
I ease back into my chair and take my time to respond, choosing my words carefully. Hope has only worked at Camp Dakota for the past year, and while she’s quickly become my best friend, there’s still a lot she doesn’t know about me. “Eight years.”
Something swirls in my gut at my mention of the length of time I’ve lived here, but I shove it aside quickly.
“Well,” Hope says, not missing a beat. “Then there’s no excuse. You should be a crazed Seattle fan like the rest of us by now.”
I avert my eyes and begin to clean up the paperwork spread over my desk. “Not going to happen. I’ve never been into sports.”