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“Hi,” I say, out of breath. “Sorry for the insanity.”
“That’s okay. I’m sorry for taking up some of your time. I’m sure you would rather be celebrating.”
“Nah. This is part of the job, and I’m happy to chat. What do you have for me?”
“Tonight you kicked the fifteenth game-winning field goal of your career, Dallas, which is a new NFL record. Does the pressure get easier to handle the more years you spend in the league?” she asks, and she holds the microphone out to me.
“I think it only amps up,” I answer. “You get older. You start to wonder if someone is vying for your job. I learned that whenI stopped focusing on everything that could go wrong and the mistakes I could make and instead put my energy into what Icancontrol—kicking the ball as far as it will go—I performed better.”
“You all are heading into the Super Bowl as the underdogs, which is rare for you. What are you going to do with your two weeks off to prepare?”
“Stay sharp and study film. It’s easy to get lazy and sloppy, but this next week is going to be important for us. We have a lot of work to do.”
“Thanks for your time, Dallas. Enjoy your night,” she says.
“Thanks, Julie. Watch your back; I think some doofuses are bringing the champagne into the hall,” I say.
I move away from the camera. I love the celebration and being here with my brothers, but I’m ready to find June and Maven and head back to the apartment. They were sneaking around before we left for the stadium, and I think there might be a chocolate cake waiting for me when we get home.
God, I really want to fucking hug them and enjoy this moment with them, too.
They helped me get here, and it doesn’t feel right that they aren’t with me right now.
I saw Maven on the sidelines a few times during the game. My eyes found hers right after I kicked the game winner. She was grinning from ear to ear as I got hoisted on my teammates’ shoulders and held up a heart she made with her hands.
I held one up too.
“Dal,” Shawn says, stopping me. He’s wearing an NFC CHAMPIONS hat backwards on his head, and there’s confetti stuck to his face. “Helluva game tonight, kid.”
“Shucks, Coach. Thanks for trusting me.”
“There’s no one I’d rather have kicking the ball with only two seconds left on the clock. How are you going to—” He stopstalking. His eyes bounce to my neck, and his smile disappears. “What are you wearing?”
“What?” I glance down and see the chain around my neck. It’s usually hidden by my jersey, but now it’s in plain sight. My hand covers the gold M resting in the hollow of my throat. I take a step back, and Shawn fixes me with a look so murderous, I’m surprised I’m not already dead. “It’s nothing.”
Shit.
Shit.
I try to put distance between us while I search for an escape. A way to get out of here before he starts asking question, but he’s too fast.
My feet leave the ground and my shoulders slam against the wall behind me. I wince in pain, and the back of my head throbs with a dull ache.
“Why thehellare you wearing Maven’s necklace?” he hisses.
“It’s not hers. My mom got it for me,” I blurt out. I’m grasping for straws at this point. Pulling something out of my ass that will keep him happy and keep me alive. “Like I said, it’s nothing.”
Shawn’s eyes narrow into tiny slits. “That’s funny,” he says, and there’s no humor in his voice. “It looks a lot like the necklace I got Maven for her sixteenth birthday. I’m going to ask you this one time, Lansfield. Are you sleeping with my goddaughter?”
I swallow.
There’s a moment where I consider lying.
Consider laughing it off and acting like it’s no big deal.
Turning it into locker room talk and claiming it belongs to someone I hooked up with one time, the jewelry a trophy of an excellent fuck.
But I’m so fucking sick of being secretive.
