Page 66 of Her Game Plan

Chapter 25

Charlotte

“Want a Nerds Cluster?” I offer when we climb into Callan’s SUV at the airport in Denver.

He shakes his head. “No.”

I scroll through my playlists, looking for one that will help get Callan out of his funk. The team lost a tough one to Las Vegas, and I know he’s blaming himself. He threw an interception late in the game that allowed the Reapers to score their winning touchdown. It’s a division game, so it’s a more important loss, but it’s only week four. There are still a lot of games left to play.

I squint at my phone, trying to decide whether he needs a crying playlist or one to snap him out of his funk.

“Good God, could this traffic be any worse?” he snaps as we merge onto I-225.

Funk-snapping it is.

Callan gives me some strong side-eye when “Gives You Hell” by the All-American Rejects starts pumping through his expensive sound system, but I choose to ignore it, singing along softly. By the time “Stronger (What Doesn’t Kill You)” by Kelly Clarkson comes on, he’s tapping a finger, his body slightly less tense than when we loaded up.

“What’s this playlist called?” he asks when “All Star” by Smash Mouth comes on.

I try to hide my smile. “‘Fix Your Face.’”

He only asks what I call a playlist when he likes it. He’s even started requesting “Nibble Noise”—one of the ones we listen to when we have dinner together—by name.

“Do you like it?” I bite my lips.

“It reminds me of high school.”

“And that’s… good, right?” I pull one of my feet under me, thankful I had some of the team tracksuits ordered for me to travel in, too.

Callan reaches over and grabs my hand, pulling it onto his lap, and I fight a victorious smile. “My football team back then didn’t make it as far as I would’ve liked. So, it mostly serves to remind me that you can always come back from a bad season. No one expected me to go pro when I was in high school, but here I am.”

I blink at him. “People seem to expect a lot of big things from you now.”

He tips his head from side to side. “Yeah. Or they did.”

“What do you mean?” I trace the line of his hard jaw with my eyes.

“I’m getting old, so anytime I have an off game, people question whether it’s time for me to hang up my helmet.”

I know quarterbacks tend to play for longer than other professional athletes, and certainly other football players, but Callan’s not wrong. He’s reaching the end of his career. If he decided to retire—of his own volition, of course—it would sure make my life a lot easier. I don’t think getting rid of Callan is what’s best for the team, but it’s clearly the fight Hugo has decided to pick. I wonder if he already wanted to trade Callan before I came along, or whether it’s a direct response to him “dating” me.

“Is that something you’re interested in doing anytime soon?” I ask carefully.

“What? Retiring?” He shakes his head. “Not really. I feel good. I have a few more years in me.”

I stay silent, feeling that he has more to say.

Finally, I’m rewarded for my patience when he continues, “I love the game, and it’s not just about playing on Sundays. I love the film sessions, dissecting another team’s defense, and figuring out how to best use the players on the team. And then game days, there’s nothing like that high in the world. The last-second adjustments, the routine. And there’s the team. These guys give me purpose in a way I haven’t found anywhere else. It’s not like retiring from a normal job that you’re only in for the money. I love what I do. I love who I do it with. And I’m not ready to let that go yet.”

My heart drops at his words, even as I force a smile. Of course he loves his job. I’ve seen him interact with the other players. They all look up to him, and he treats them like he’s their big brother, offering advice and tough love in a way that only a teammate can.

The Stallions need him.

And, apparently, he needs the team.

I don’t know where that leaves me professionally, but I’m sure as hell not going to let Hugo and Dad bulldoze me into trading him just because they think I can’t be unbiased.

I can be.