Page 3 of Fall Wherever They May

“He apparently hasn’t followed anyone,” Carter placates, patting him on the back. “Don’t get your feelings hurt. See?” He points to Ivan’s phone: “Zero following.”

I don’t follow anyone. Like I said, I have enough to worry about in my life than to worry about someone other than myself. If I had it my way, Teagan would handle all my social media shit, and I wouldn’t have access to it at all.

“So,” Trevor looks at each of us, “any word on the new team owner?” He casually changes the subject as if we all aren’t worried about what’s going to happen to our team when the new owner takes over.

“There’s been a lot of speculation in the media about a family member taking over. I hope he’s not a complete dick and trades all our asses.” Drew pauses with a contemplative frown before he continues, “I don’t recall seeing a single family member at his funeral.”

“There wasn’t,” Trevor responds. “Outside of all of us, the reserved seating for family was empty.”

Carter gives me a pointed look. “I guess that’s what happens when your career becomes your life.”

Since Mr. West’s death, I haven’t thought about the repercussions of a new team owner. He may let us stay where we are; then again, there’s the possibility he’ll want to rebuild.

Three hours later, I’m ten beers in with red solo cups lined up on either side of the table. When we have team-building dinners, we always accompany them with an activity or a game, but we rarely drink like this. Most of the time, the guys bring their family, but since it’s just the boys today, we let loose. Everyone is watching us, yelling and cheering. Jerome and Trevor have two cups left on our side, and Ivan and I have only one cup left on theirs. Not a peep rings out as Trevor throws the ping-pong ball . . . it misses his cup.

“It’s down to this shot, gentlemen. The pressure is on. Callan “Smiley” Miles pulled a hat trick in the last play, but can the center of The New York Blaze pull off the win for the 2025 Beer Pong Championship? We know Smiley’s ego has a lot riding on this win. Will he do it?” Drew commentates, drawing laughs out of everyone.

I throw the ping-pong ball . . . it sinks into the very last cup on the opposing team’s side. Everyone cheers and makes aruckus as they jump up and down. In Trevor’s inebriated state, he goes to chug the beer in his red solo cup, but the beer completely misses his mouth and pours down his chin.

“Oh no! That’s a party foul! Now you have to chug an entire bottle!” Drew yells out. He produces a bottle of beer out of thin air, pops the top, then hands it over to Trevor.

“Those aren’t the rules,” Trevor throws his hands up in complaint, looking at Drew and the rest of the guys surrounding him in confusion.

“They are now,” someone in the back retorts as everyone chants, “Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!”

Trevor raises his bottle up. “Cheers,” he shouts out, then downs the beer in one swift go, making sure not to spill a single drop from his lips. He thrusts the empty bottle into the air.

Everyone is yelling and cheering when the crowd breaks apart, and my eyes snag on a kid wearing a ball cap. With a basketball tucked under his arm, he stops Aiden Brodie, one of our right-wingers, who stepped away to take a call from his agent. I can’t see the kid or hear their conversation, but I see Aiden shake his head.

A feminine voice with a slight southern drawl cuts into their conversation. She speaks loud enough for me to understand her clearly. “Get back to the house, Buddy. I told you to stay in our driveway if you’re going to play basketball.”

Out of curiosity, I crane my neck to see what’s going on, but my view is blocked by my teammate’s big ass body.

“I was just trying to make new friends, Mom,” he counters.

“We don’t know these people. You can’t go walkin’ into someone else’s yard; it’s rude . . .” She trails off. Although I can no longer understand her words, the southern drawl of her voicestill reaches me, and if I were a man with a voice fetish, I could sit and listen to her speak all day.

I plop down on the outdoor sectional and bend to grab another beer out of the cooler stationed by my feet. I close the lid and stretch out, propping a foot on top of the Yeti. I lounge back alone in my seat, basking in dopamine and serotonin from the alcohol coursing through my system, while watching my teammates wrestle around near the pool. Before he even knows what’s happening, Carter is pushed in, clothes and all. I choke in a fit of laughter. It’s nice. It feels good to laugh for once. And now that I have a few drinks in me, I can admit to myself that I’ve kind of missed hanging out with people. Aiden snags my attention as he ambles toward me.

“You want another one?” I nod toward the cooler.

“Yeah, man. Last one, then I’m out.” Aiden parks himself in the chair across from me.

I reach into Yeti and grab him a cold one. “You got a ride home?” I ask, since Drew just left with a car full of people.

Aiden reaches over and plucks the bottle from my hand. “Sure do,” he says as he twists the top. With the cap between his middle finger and thumb, he snaps his fingers, sending the cap flying into my chest. I chuckle and tip my beer back to take a long pull from the bottle.

“Someone has party tricks, I see.” I toss the cap back at him, hitting his chin.

Aiden snickers. “Stick with me, and I’ll teach you a hundred more.”

I breathe out a short laugh. Resting my head back against the cushions, I stare at the Edison lights hanging above us. That woman’s sexy-as-sin voice plays out in my head. “So, what was up with the kid?”

“I have no idea.” He leans back in the chair, removes his ball cap, and tosses it onto the small patio table. “Some kid looking for someone to play ball with, but did you see his mom?”

“Nope.” I pop the p.

“Fuck me.” His eyes roll to the back of his head as he clutches his chest dramatically. “Listen, dude.” He sits back up with the most serious expression on his face. “She’s so fucking hot, I would drink her bath water one sip at a time and simultaneously try to guess what part of her body it touched.”

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