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She gives me a look. “Come on. You know it’s ingrained in their minds that asking for help is weak, which is fucking bullshit. He looks so sad in all the photos I took of him, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Maybe I can see if Dallas can talk to him. Just to let him know he’s there if he needs someone to listen. It’s not parenting advice, but lending an ear as someone who has been there before.”
“That would be great, Maven.” Cassidy squeezes my arm and smiles. “I appreciate it. What are your plans for Christmas?”
“Nothing too exciting,” I say. “I’ll stop by my dad’s place and spend some time with him. June’s wish list is miles long, and I think Dallas is getting her everything she’s asking for, so our morning will be pretty packed. What about you?”
“We’re hoping Shawn gives the guys a few days off for the holidays. If he does, we’re going to fly to Florida to see my family.”
“That would be so fun. I hope you get to go. A couple days off would help everyone recalibrate before we head into the final stretch before the playoffs. I can’t believe we’re almost at the end of the regular season.”
“Time flies, doesn’t it?” She looks past my shoulder and waves. “I’m going to go. Your man is coming, and I’m going to go find mine.”
I laugh and give her a quick hug. “Alright. Hey. Tell him to keep his chin up. These things come in waves. Look how much better Dallas is feeling this season.”
“I think that has less to do with the waves and more to do with the blonde who keeps him in check.” Cassidy winks and grabs all of her bags. “See ya next week, Mae.”
I turn around and find Dallas in his street clothes with June asleep in his arms. She looks so small with her head on his shoulder and a tiny fistful of his shirt in her hand, and I smile when I see them. I can’t help it.
All of my worries melt away as he walks toward me, and I feel calm when he crowds my space. When his sneakers knock against mine and he taps my hip twice before stepping a half foot away.
He has that steadying sort of presence. It’s why he’s such an incredible athlete and such an incredible father; when he pulls you into his orbit, you’re automatically at peace.
“Hey,” I say, and his mouth tugs up in a lazy grin.
“Hey, sunshine.”
“Sorry about the loss.”
“It happens. There have been plenty before it. There will be plenty after it. Are you ready to go? We’re making tacos for dinner,” he says. “And then homemade s’mores. They were a request from Sleeping Beauty here.”
“Sounds like the perfect night to me. Want me to carry her?”
“Nah. I got her. You know I miss her when I’m out on the field.” He twirls his keys around his fingers then pats his pockets. “Shit. I left my phone in my locker.”
“Do you need it?”
“Yeah. My agent is sending me over a potential endorsement deal with a major sports drink, and I told him I’d call him in the morning before practice to discuss details.”
“I can go grab it. I don’t mind.”
“Are you sure? All of the guys should be cleared out by now, so you won’t see anything you don’t want to see.”
“And if I want to see something?” I grin when he narrows his eyes in my direction. “Just kidding. Where is it?”
“On the top shelf. Stand on the chair if you can’t reach, half pint. Let me take your bag.” I hand him my camera equipment, and he winces. “You carry this around all day?”
“Calling me weak, Lansfield?”
“No, I’m calling this stuff heavy. There’s got to be a lighter camera out there.”
“There probably is, but my dad got me this one. I like using it.”
“We’ll get you a little wagon to pull all your stuff around in,” he says, and he adjusts the strap on his shoulder. “There has to be a market for that.”
“A wagon. I wouldn’t get made fun of at all.” I laugh and head toward the locker room. “I’ll meet you in the garage in a few.”
It’s eerily empty on the walk toward the locker room. When the Titans lose, everyone tends to clear out pretty quick. They like to be pissed about the defeat in private. It doesn’t surprise me that only forty-five minutes after the end of regulation, there’s not a soul to be found.
