Page 9 of Colliding with Ten

Send Shay flowers. Note: I’m sorry I can’t make it. You’ll look incredible. Let’s plan something soon. I’ll make it up to you.

Lena

Got it

I would probably send more versions of that apology this year. This was why I didn’t want relationships right now. I turned my phone off and put it away. Shay would post the flowers within an hour of receiving them. Her caption would leave people guessing. For me, the flowers didn’t ask follow-up questions. Most days, I chose football and forced myself not to feel like shit about it.

Jace quirked a brow

“What?”

He raised both hands. “Nothing.”

I stared.

He grinned. “You’re efficient. Cold, but efficient.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

“I know, man. It’s tough.”

“I think she’ll be fine.”

Probably not forever. No one enjoyed it when disappointments started to accumulate. It would start as a single event, then become a birthday, then a weekend trip. Only later would they realize my schedule didn’t change because someone missed me. The season consumed it all: sleep, time, patience, and tenderness. The rest of life had to adjust to accommodate treatment, film, practice, travel, recovery, and the relentless pursuit of something most men never touched.

I could like Shay and enjoy her company. I could send flowers, pay for dinner, make her laugh when I had the energy, make her come when I had the time, and still know I would disappoint her because I had already chosen my first love. Football was not a job to me. It was what I had built my life around. Relationships required room. I had a pocket. Even that collapsed if you held the ball too long.

Coach Reeves called us up ten minutes later. The locker room noise stopped. Coaches and trainers stood on the sides of the room. The air was thick with heat and sweat.

Reeves stood at the center, broad-bodied with silver at his temples. “We came across the country for one reason. To set the standard for who we are going to be this season.”

The room was locked in.

“Everybody wants to talk in September. We don’t need to sell anything. We show it.”

He looked around the room. “They are going to punch early. They are going to use this crowd. They are going to try to make this bigger than it is because their young quarterback needs belief.”

A few men shifted.

Reeves gaze came to me. “Ten.”

I hated speeches. They had a way of turning into theater. I believed in work and preparation. But tonight, at the beginning of the season, the room needed me. I stood. The men turned toward me.

“This is one game. But every rep today is us deciding who we’re gonna be for the next five months. They think this is about their rookie.” A few guys smiled. “They think tonight is his arrival. And if they make enough noise, the country will start believing.” I looked at the offensive line. “They are wrong.”

Eli’s jaw flexed.

“This game is not about him or their crowd. It’s not about old rivalries or whatever story they’re trying to sell.” I paused. “This game is about us setting terms.”

My voice stayed low.

“First drive, we make them show us what they are. If they bring pressure, we punish it. If they sit back, we take it. If they disguise, we trust our eyes. Nobody waits for somebody else to do the job.”

I looked toward Eli.

“You get a chance to block, you bury him.”

Eli nodded. Jace’s grin was gone now.