Page 229 of By His Play

“Everything is great, man,” I say, unable to contain the wide smile that spreads across my face.

“Fuck. You look entirely too happy,” he muses as he stalks toward the coffee machine.

“What’s there not to be happy about? It’s Friday, the sun is shining, we’re about to go and play ball with some of the most talented kids in the country and?—”

“You’re getting laid tonight?” he finishes for me.

Have I talked a little too much about my plans with Effie this evening? Quite possibly.

“Here’s hoping. What about you? Nailed down any plans?”

While I might be able to say that Jamie is one of my closest friends, I don’t entirely know him all that well. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like Brax. And he very much keeps his personal life to himself.

“Nah, probably just have a quiet one at home.”

“Wild,” I tease.

He shrugs, not giving a fuck what I think. I admire that about him. He’s unashamedly himself. He doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do, and he sticks to his guns.

I might still be early in my NFL career, but already it’s obvious that quite a few players could learn a thing or two from guys like Jamie.

Having used all the words he wanted to this morning, he drops onto the couch opposite me and focuses on his cell.

Getting the hint, I go back to mine.

I reply to my brothers and my mom, who have all messaged me, before diving into my inbox.

Effie would have a coronary if she were to see the number sitting on top of the app.

I reply to my agent, and I’m busy reading through something from Henry at KC Foundation when Jamie suddenly announces that we need to move out.

Abandoning the email, I jump to my feet and follow him to the field. The sooner we get this game done, the sooner I can be heading back to Chicago to my girl.

Thankfully, the second the whistle blows to begin the final game of the week, time seems to speed up.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Football is my second-best distraction in life. Effie, or more specifically, sex with Effie is in the number one position.

Jamie and I bark orders from the sidelines as the teams we’ve been training this week go head-to-head in their final battle.

Both of our quarterbacks call some epic plays as we stand there watching like proud fathers.

As much as I want to continue watching them play, I’m ready for the final whistle to blow. These kids are all heading home this afternoon. I really hope they’re proud of everything they’ve achieved during their time here. If they can take it with them and implement even one thing into their teams at home, then it’ll have been worth it.

The second the game is over, my team—the winners—set their sights on me and run at full speed.

I make a show of trying to outrun them, but ultimately, I allow them to wrestle me to the ground before they pile on top of me.

Once we’ve finished celebrating, the entire camp turns their attention on me, including the coaches, and I have little choice but to stand up and say something.

I know these camps are my babies, but they wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for all the people standing around me. They deserve so much more credit than me for all the work they do to make them happen.

I had a dream, just like the kids before me do, and I didn’t stop until I achieved it. Hell, I’m still trying to achieve everything.

While the players of the future may look at Jamie and me and think we’ve got everything, we’re both striving for more. That’s the thing about being a professional athlete. Nothing is ever good enough. We always want to achieve more, to be better.

By the time I say goodbye to the staff and once again thank them for everything they do, Jamie and I grab our bags and head for his car.

The moment my ass hits his passenger seat, I pull my cell out and shoot Effie a message.

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