“Peyton?”
I startle and smile. “Sorry, I got lost in thought.” More like lost in a vision. “I haven’t found a dress yet. My sister is pestering me to go on Say Yes To The Dress, but I’m not sure that’s my thing. We live such public lives that I’d like our wedding to be somewhat private.”
“That makes a ton of sense. If I can help, let me know.”
“Thank you, Maggie.”
When I first met her, I felt sorry for her. Here she was, a children’s museum director, thrust into the spotlight without any warning. Alex had invited her to dinner. Told her to wear something fancy. The big oaf didn’t tell her that he was taking her to the annual hospital fundraiser and that she’d be mobbed by cameras the moment she stepped out of the car. She shook with nerves all night at dinner and I did my best to ease her, but she still had the look of a deer caught in headlights, waiting for impact. Luckily for Alex, she agreed to a second date. This time, it was much more low-key, with Noah and me.
Noah takes the field, effectively cutting off any conversation between Maggie and myself. Of course, where Noah is, Alex is as well. The two are never far from each other. Alex protects Noah, it’s his job, and while any practice prohibits the defense from touching Noah, Alex still takes his job very seriously.
The whistle blows and my quarterback takes center, looks to his left and then right while calling his cadence. I can barely hear him over the crowd, mostly young children screaming Noah’s name. The pat on Alex’s thigh is subtle, but I notice, and that’s when I see the hesitation in Noah’s hands, followed by three steps back. Not his usual five. He fires a pass across the center of the field, hitting cornerback Cameron Simmons right in the chest. The spiral is perfect. The crowd cheers. I look at Noah, waiting for his reaction. There’s nothing. He’s not rushing to the line of scrimmage even though there’s under two minutes left and according to the clock, he’s losing. It’s not real, at least the score isn’t. But that doesn’t negate that Noah should be taking this seriously. Practice is practice, everyone needs it.
He finally gets back to the line of scrimmage. Everything repeats except the route changed. This time, he hands off to Terry Price, a seasoned running back and offseason acquisition. Price weaves through the line, bringing in almost twenty yards. The defensive coordinator is losing his shit on the sideline. It’s funny, at least for the time being. For this being a mini-camp, the staff is certainly invested.
Three more plays later and Noah throws the ball to Julius Cunningham for a touchdown. There’s no pomp or circumstance with this, but it’s still an achievement of sorts. Noah heads to the sideline and the rookie quarterback takes over. I would think being a camp for the fans, Noah would play the entire time. My heart plummets, thinking that Noah’s playing time is being affected by the bullshit with the Rams.
Noah sits on the bench and hangs his head, letting his helmet dangle from his fingers. I’m confused by this. His set was good, it resulted in a touchdown.
Against my better judgment, I head over to the other side of the field and stand behind him. “What’s your problem, Westbury?” I yell rather loudly to get his attention. He turns. At first, his expression is one of anger, almost as if he’s pissed someone asked him this question. When his eyes settle on me, I give him a little wave and he comes right over. The jitters I was experiencing before I arrived are back, tenfold. I don’t know what he’s going to say or how he’s going to react to me being here.
I get my answer as soon as he reaches me. He slides his hands through the railings and pulls me as close as he can to him. I wish I had just walked onto the field. I’m allowed but didn’t know how he’d feel about it.
“What’s wrong, Noah?” I ask, leaning down to whisper in his ear.
He shakes his head, pushing deeper into my stomach. “Nothing feels right.”
I hold him as best as I can. I did this to him. Well, not me, but the Rams. They were underhanded and put him in a bad spot with the team and the owners. Noah would never do anything to jeopardize his spot on the team. My accident notwithstanding.
“It’s only a mini-camp,” I remind him.
“That doesn’t matter. Not this year.”
He’s right, it doesn’t. This is on me, my fault. Not purposefully, but still. And I have to do what I can to fix this mess. “How can I help?”
He looks at me, and I’m tempted to lean over and give him a kiss. I miss the way his lips feel against mine. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong. Yell at me. I’m afraid I’m going to lose my starting job to…” Noah turns quiet. He doesn’t have to say it. I nod and run my finger through his damp hair, not caring about the sweat.
I love that he takes his job so seriously. “I got you, Westbury.” I wink, and he lets go of me. Instead of sitting down, I stay at the railing, giving me a better angle. He takes the field. I focus on him, not the play, not the team, just Noah. Again, I notice that his hands are hesitant, almost as if he’s unsure of the play he’s running. My first thought is he has a concussion and hasn’t told anyone. And then I watch his feet. It’s a different play from before. Three steps, not five. Last year, every play he ran, he took those extra two steps.
“Five steps,” I mumble to myself. “It’s always five. Why change it?”
“Because the new offensive coordinator thinks Noah’s more powerful off three.”
The general manager of the Pioneers leans on the railing next to me. He’s watching the play unfold on the field, while I study him. Weeks ago, he wanted to fire my guy, all because of a nasty rumor.
“Noah’s always done five,” I point out. “He’s been successful with that rhythm.”
He shrugs. “Coaches feel otherwise.”
“I see.” I bite my tongue on what I really want to say. The last thing I want to do is put Noah in any more hot water. I turn and take a seat on the first bleacher and slouch a bit, so I can still watch. The GM follows, making me feel uneasy.
He sits down and sighs. “The Rams are fools.”
I smile but say nothing.
“They thought by luring you, they’d lure him. What they didn’t count on, was his loyalty.”
“Noah’s very loyal.”