Page 17 of Golden Rule

Dane nods. “Thank you. We look forward to getting out on the field and helping out the team.”

I glance toward my brother, silently applauding his diplomatic response. It sounds like it’s straight out of Joss’s mouth, but he’s good. No one would ever guess he’s on edge today.

“You’ve already spoken with Tammy Wu, our PR director,” Coach continues, and I turn to shake the hand of the tall, dark-haired woman in a black suit.

“Nice meeting you.”

“Pleasure,” she says with a barely-there smile, and I imagine her stoic expression is likely intentional. Most women I’ve encountered in the world of pro football have their own methods for navigating such a male-dominated industry. So, I get it. Whatever works for her.

Coach moves toward the center of the room to continue his introductions, and I wonder if he knows I’ll forget ninety-five percent of these names before we even leave his office.

“Here, we have our offensive coordinator, Cedric James; our quarterback coach, Ty Reyes; our wide receiver coach, Skip Beyers; and our Offensive lineman coach, Joe Trombley.” He pauses to take a breath, stepping toward another small group standing near the window that overlooks the training field. “Here we have Sahil Patel, the head of the team’s media relations; Emma Pete, our team liaison; Tamika Spencer who was recently brought onboard as team director; our strength and conditioning coach, Cliff Ross; and last but certainly not least, my righthand man, Assistant Head Coach, Lamar Powell.”

Everyone in the group takes the time to greet us individually, each one stating that we can come to them if we ever need anything. It’s a nice touch, making sure we know we’re seen as more than just the numbers on the backs of our jerseys.

“It’s very nice to meet you all, and I think I speak for both my brothers when I say we’re looking forward to working with everyone here in the months and years to come.”

When I finish speaking, I take a page from Dane’s book and force a smile. It hides that I’m stuck on one thought—that between meeting the rest of the team and the press conference, things can still go completely sideways today.

They all speak at once, their voices running together until it forms one sound. I’m only half listening, though, because I’m going over the press conference in my head, trying to prepare for something completely unpredictable. However, within a fewminutes, I give up, wishing I could take a shot of something strong from the bar in the corner of Coach’s office, but my vow to Blue means that won’t happen. I promised her I wouldn’t touch anything stronger than a soda now that we’re actively trying to conceive. It was her idea, based on shit she went through with her parents, but I stand behind the decision.

Solidarity and whatnot, right?

One deep breath later, I focus on the words of the strength and conditioning coach. A man whose name I’ve already forgotten. Needless to say, I’m relieved when Coach speaks up again, suggesting that we tour the facilitynow,since there’s still time to kill before the press conference.

We file out and start with the admin offices, then move on to the film room and conference rooms. We linger a bit on a floor dedicated solely to physical therapy and medical rehabilitation, simply because the equipment the team’s invested in is fucking impressive. After that, it’s on to the locker rooms and the indoor training facility, then we’re finally getting close to the weight room.

First, it’s the loud music and shouting that pours out into the hallway that gives it away. Then, it’s confirmed by the familiar clatter of barbells slamming into the cradles of weight benches, sneakers thudding on treadmill belts.Thisis the sound of athletes hard at work, training to ensure they explode onto the field at peak fitness, ready to take off a few heads when the season starts.

It's the sound of success.

“I know the plan was to introduce you to the rest of the guys after the press conference,” Coach says, “but now seems like as good a time as any.”

He casts a glance over his shoulder as we trail him down the narrow hallway, then we come to a stop outside the door. He’s got this cautiously hopeful look on his face. I imagine it to besimilar to the look of a parent bringing home a new baby, hoping like hell the new addition doesn’t disrupt the existing dynamic. Because whether anyone wants to admit it or not, there’s always the chance that the older siblings could act out in defiance, turning the whole thing into one big shitshow.

Yep, that’sexactlywhat that look screams, and it isn’t quite the confidence boost I hoped for. Especially now, with the bullshit Pandora mentioned in her first post.

“Shall we?”

Coach doesn’t wait for a response as he pushes the door open, then walks over to turn down the radio blasting in the corner. The room quickly falls completely silent as every single eye in the room focuses in our direction. I let out a breath, remembering the pep talk Blue gave me this morning as we got dressed to come here. She told me not to worry what the guys think of me coming into this, because I’ll get a chance to show them who I am on the field.

It may take time for them to accept us—me, Dane, Sterling—but we’re all a family now, and there’s no getting around it.

Remembering that Blue is waiting in the lobby with Joss and Tiffany relaxes me a bit. Enough to smile and nod at a guy when we lock eyes. He smiles back, but it’s got to be the most intense expression I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and it’s also the first indicator of the climate in the room.

Which, for the record, is incredibly damn cold.

It’s clear there’s been talk, and that talk has led to bitterness and resentment among the team.

Fucking perfect.

I can’t say for certain that Pandora is to blame for this, but she sure as shit added fuel to the fire.

“Look alive, fellas,” Coach calls out, making sure he has everyone’s full attention before continuing. “I’d like for you to meet your new teammates. West Golden—quarterback. DaneGolden—wide receiver. Sterling Golden—offensive lineman. As you can tell by these gentlemen’s expensive suits, bracelets, and watches that cost more than myboat,they’re not quite dressed to train with you today. However, starting next week, that will change. And when it does, I expect you boys to show them the ropes and properly welcome them into the family.”

Crickets.

No one speaks, no one nods to reassure Coach orus that they intend to doanyof that shit, and I’m quickly realizing it might just be me and my brothers looking out for each other for a while.

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