Page 5 of The Way We Touch
That’s when his tune changed, and the pressure began. He said I should be a wide receiver because I almost never missed a catch and I was fast. If I could run, I scored.
No wide receiver has ever won the MVP, the Most Valuable Player award, in the league, and he said I could be the first.
Don’t mistake that for him being supportive and encouraging. He was simply stating his wishes before he disappeared into his ivory tower again. I was still young and naive enough to think he cared. He had a point, and maybe it meant he would take an interest in me.
So I changed directions and became a wide receiver, not considering outside of the quarterback, the wide receivers take the most hits.
Garrett has taken a lot of hits to keep me safe on the field, and I’ve managed to avoid serious injury and run the ball all the way to the top of the game.
The black SUV stops at the Upper West Side bar, and I thank the guy before hopping out. Outside of openings and other big events, I’m mostly left alone by the media—unless I’m dating someone interesting, like a fashion-model, author-influencer.
The bar is packed with a different game on every television, from baseball to soccer. It’s a sausage party with gym bros shoulder to shoulder holding bottles of beer and talking about the upcoming season.
Garrett is impossible to miss in the back corner holding a pool cue. He spots me when I walk in and motions for me to join them. I stop off and order a whiskey neat at the bar and a classic Angus burger before heading to where he’s clearing the table.
He makes a big show of not taking the guy’s money before slapping my back and walking with me to a standing table in the middle of the loud space.
“LL!” He clinks the neck of his beer against my glass. “You look like you just got an extra week of vacation. What happened?”
“I ended it with Natalia.” Now that I say it out loud, I actually do feel lighter.
“Thank fuck,” he shouts. “Of all the boney-assed bitches you've dated, she was the worst. Always posting shit on her damn phone and always criticizing everything you did.”
A petite waitress with red hair and curves hustles up with my burger and fries. She’s working hard, focused, and she looks good—or maybe she’s just bringing me food, and I’m starving.
“Yeah, I’m done with supermodels.”
“Don’t get it twisted. Some of those gals are a lot of fun. But not that one.” He grabs a handful of my fries while I take a big bite of burger. “If she made one more crack about you being a country mouse, I swear to the almighty football gods… She’s from freakin Hoboken!”
I laugh around my bite. Garrett is so damn loud, and I love it. I don’t even want to know how he knows where Natalia is from and I don’t.
I exhale a groan as savory meat and cheese fill my mouth. “We started at that Galileo restaurant tonight.”
“What did you think?”
“I can’t tell if it’s a prank or what. You’re supposed to pour hot water over everything to rehydrate it before eating.”
His brows tighten. “So it’s like DIY?”
Shaking my head, I take another bite. “Hell, I don’t know. I didn’t stick around to find out.”
My burger is gone in five bites, and he waves for another beer. “What now?”
Good question. Now that I have food in me, I can think, and I don’t like my prospects.
We’ve got a month before training camp begins, the last thing I want is to hang around the city alone. It’s as unappealing as going to Houston to work with my dad, as he keeps asking.
“Know anybody with a timeshare on the moon?”
Garrett grips my shoulder. “Come home to Newhope with me.” My hand is already up, and I’m ready to argue when he cuts me off. “My parents’ old house is huge, and it’s right on the bay. There’s plenty of room, and it’ll be perfect for clearing your head.”
“Last thing your family needs is another football player taking up all the space and eating all the food.” I know what we’re like.
“Dude, it’s my brother Zane and my little sister Dylan, and she loves when we’re home.” He waves to the waitress, and she walks over.
“Another round?” She blinks up at him, and I’m pretty sure she’s flirting.
“Just the check, Wendy.” Of course he knows her name. “Logan Lightning, meet Wendy the waitress. She’s a single mom, working to put herself through nursing school, and she will not make you wait for more beer.”