My phone dinged with a text from my girl right when I got to my room.
Brinkley
I hope your first day of practice went well. I love you. Thanks for giving me time to think. <heart emoji>
There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.
She didn’t respond. I fucking hated this. I wanted her here, but Coach Balboa was right—this wasn’t about me.
Patience wasn’t my strong suit. I wanted this shit behind us.
But I’d put my head down and focus on what I could do right now, which was training hard for the new season.
And that was exactly what I did.
Three fucking long, painful days had passed.
I’d barely slept because now that I’d grown used to having her in my bed, I couldn’t sleep without her.
So, I ran harder. Lifted more. Pushed out on the field like I was playing in the fucking Super Bowl every damn day.
“Jesus, dude. You’re a fucking superhero. I need a break. Water. Maybe a goddamn banana. I can’t go this hard in the heat without a breather,” Brett said, as he clapped me on the shoulder.
“You don’t win Super Bowls by taking breaks every five minutes,” I hissed.
“Uh, I hate to be the one to tell you this, asshole, but we’ve been going hard for over five hours. And Brett’s right. But I don’t think you’re a superhero. I think you’re a grumpy dick,” Lenny said.
“I’ve been called worse.”
I’ve also been called better. A rude gentleman.
I’d spent most of my life not allowing myself to be vulnerable. Not getting attached to anyone outside of my mother.
I’d put my guard down with Brinkley, and I was paying for it now.
Because I missed her. I didn’t know what to do with that. How to fix it. And I wasn’t used to not being in control. Not being able to figure shit out.
Tia had lectured me last night when we’d FaceTimed about respecting Brinkley’s space. Apparently, she talked to my girlfriend a lot more than I did right now. She’d gone on and on about how women need to have their own identity, and Romeo had popped in and rolled his eyes, which earned him an elbow to the side.
My texts with Brinkley were brief.
She basically just wanted to know that I was surviving training camp.
Hell, I was begging to be challenged physically right now, because that was the best way that I knew how to numb myself. Working so hard that I couldn’t think about anything else.
But it wasn’t fucking working.
“Sorry. Just want to have a good season.”
“Bullshit, brother.” Brett wrapped an arm around my shoulder and led us to the locker room. “It’s about Brinkley, you pussy-whipped motherfucker.”
“It’s always about a girl.” Lenny barked out a laugh. “Our boy has got it bad.”
“Fuck you.” I rolled my eyes.
“It’s only been a few days. You need to chill. She’ll come around.” Lenny dropped his bag onto the bench, and I opened my locker.
I didn’t know if she was going on more interviews or what was happening. She’d tell me when she was ready.
Her brothers and brother-in-law were texting me often, but they were tight-lipped about Brinkley. I’d tried to ask a few questions, and Cage had called me out and said they knew better than to speak for her.
I nodded. “I’m fine. You pussies just can’t keep up with me. That’s on you.”
Brett barked out a laugh. “You want to go grab some beers tonight? Blow off some steam?”
“Maybe tomorrow. My mom moved into her new house yesterday, so I’m going to head over there and help her unpack for a few hours.”
“I love Mama Hendrix. Tell her as soon as she’s settled, I’ll be expecting an invitation to come over for her famous chili,” Brett said.
“Mama Hendrix is hot, just like her chili,” Lenny sang out, and I reached for my towel and snapped him on the side. He howled, and everyone laughed.
“Do not call my mother hot,” I grumped.
More laughter.
This was the team I was meant to play with.
We were going to do big things together, but I couldn’t get excited about it just yet.
Because nothing worked when she wasn’t here.
thirty-one
Brinkley
I’d arrived in New York late last night. I hadn’t told Lincoln that I was coming. I wanted to share everything with him after I took care of business.
I’d taken the bull by the horns after that dick weasel, Lou Colson, had called me back. The man had completely changed his tune. He’d basically offered me whatever I wanted but still continued to call me by the wrong name.
Bailey.
He’d just been desperate to get that story. But if he were the last man on this earth with the only sports magazine out there, I’d keep the story to myself.
Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice… I will hold a grudge until the end of time.
Is that the saying?
Oh, right—fool me twice, shame on me.
That wasn’t happening. No one would fool me twice.
These last few days had been exactly what I’d needed.
I’d figured out a few important things.
First off, I was an independent woman. And no one could take that away from me. Not the president of a big magazine who couldn’t get my name right.
Not anyone.
I decide my worth.
My fate.
Who I am and what I will accomplish.
Secondly, if one door closes, another one always opens. Being let go from my job months ago was not as terrible as I’d originally thought. It was the best thing that had ever happened to me. And now, there were more doors waiting for me than I’d realized.
Thirdly, just because we want something, doesn’t mean it’s good for us. I mean, I spent years eating every sour gummy worm I could get my hands on. And what did that give me? Canker sores and belly aches.
Just because you want it, doesn’t mean it’s right.
Sports Today was not the place for me. They’d shown me who they were. They’d only called me back because they thought I was desperate enough to go work there after they’d treated me horribly. The reporter in me didn’t even have to reach far to get him to talk. He’d offered me the job in exchange for the article, and he’d said I would only need to interview Lincoln once a season. The man really didn’t get it. The first time I’d said no, he’d offered me a corner office and top billing.
Yet he still didn’t know my name.
I didn’t want what he was offering.
There were only two things that I wanted.
Lincoln Hendrix and a job that challenged me.
And I lived in a time where I could have both. I could work hard and take what I wanted in this world because I was worthy.
I’d never just be someone’s girlfriend.
I knew it, and Lincoln knew it.
And damn, had I enjoyed telling Lou Colson to take his offer and shove it where the sun don’t shine. He’d sputtered and panicked when I’d made it clear that he wouldn’t be getting the story I’d written about Lincoln or any future interviews with him, either.
Because Lincoln Hendrix was my boyfriend, and sometimes, I was the boss.
I’d arrived at Strive Forward magazine a few minutes early. This time, I wasn’t nervous. There was a peace that I’d found back home as I processed everything. After I’d sulked and let the rejection sink in and then realized it wasn’t me being rejected. It was just some guy who wanted Lincoln’s story. That had very little to do with me when I broke it all down.