Page 1 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

Colt

Irubmyhandover my face, mentally preparing for the outburst to come. Looks like my last day of vacation won’t be as relaxing as I thought.

“But it’s opening night. You promised to take me.” Hadley pouts, running her fingers through my thick blond hair.

“I promised to take you. I didn’t say tonight, Darlin’.” My jaw feels a little rough under my palm, and I make a note to shave later.

“Are you canceling because of your daughter again? You’ve been doing that more and more ever since you two took that vacation last month. I’m getting lonely.” She sticks out her lower lip, something I used to find kinda cute, but right now it seems childish.

I suppose that’s sort of my fault. When Hadley and I got together, having fun was the only priority, and if that fun conflicted with something I had on the calendar with my daughter, Sawyer, I’d reschedule with Sawyer. I didn’t think Sawyer cared when we did stuff, and I’d always make it up to her with a gift. But I recently learned my rescheduling was a sore spot, and since then, I've made it my goal to be better about it. Unfortunately, that isn’t going over so well with Hadley, who has grown used to getting what she wants, when she wants it. Hence, her little pity party.

“I’m saying no tonight. It has nothing to do with Sawyer.” I roll out of bed and pull on a pair of shorts.

Truth be told, whether it’s because of my daughter or my career, Hadley’s time to get what she wants when she wants is about to end, for the next six to eight months, anyway. The season is about to start, which means everything is about football for the foreseeable future.

The pundits have us in contention to win it all this year, and with good reason. Our offense really gelled last season, and most of us are still on the roster. Plus, our quarterback, Shane Thomas, is a phenom, and at the risk of sounding cocky, the two of us are a force to be reckoned with. We won a ring together a few years back, and now is our best chance to do it again.

I want that second ring before I pack it in, which could be as soon as the end of this season. This body may be in peak condition right now, but I have to work harder and harder to keep it that way, and to compete with the younger guys. My time in this league is limited, and I’d like to go out on top. That makes winning the Super Bowl my top priority, not just for my ego, but for my future.

My life has revolved around this game since I was old enough to hold a ball in my hands, yet I have no desire to put it behind me when I step off the field for good. I need football like I need air, so my agent has been putting feelers out to see if he can get me a spot as a coach or a commentator. Super Bowl champion, Colt Trudeau, sounds good no matter which route I pursue, but two-time Super Bowl champ sounds better.

Winning won’t be easy, especially since the pundits have put a bit of a target on our backs, but I have a good feeling about this season-- and this team. But the warm and fuzzy feelings don’t mean shit without the discipline and hard work to back them up. That’s why my focus has to be totally on the game, on and off the field. If that disrupts Hadley’s social life, well, so be it.

“You said since I didn’t get to go on vacation with you and Sawyer, you’d take me to the club.” She crosses her arms beneath her ample chest.

“No, darlin’, I promised to take you at some point, not the night before training camp starts.” I shrug my shirt on, too familiar with this routine to pretend I don’t know what’s coming.

It’s a familiar pattern, the whining that comes when the season starts, and I get serious. In years past, it hasn’t bothered me because it resulted in my being able to concentrate on the game. But for some reason, it grates now.

Maybe it’s because I just watched my ex-wife and daughter find happiness with another man. A good man, no question, and I’m happy for them because they deserve to have what I wasn’t good at giving them. Or maybe I’m just tired of the endless stream of groupies that are eager to date a football player until it’s time for me to play football, which apparently messes up their social calendar. Hell, maybe I’m getting old. Too old to keep living this pattern.

Each year, my relationships--or whatever they are--end when training starts. If any of the ladies had been willing to stick around while I was focused on the very thing that enabled them to live like princesses, I’d have been happy to have them. It’s not like I forced them out the door. But when the off season is over, I’m laser focused on football, and most women don’t appreciate having my attention split between them and the sport I love.

“What if I take you next weekend?” It’s not something I want to do during the season, but I’ll make an effort if it’ll make her happy.

“That’s not the same as going on opening night.”

I rub my hand over my face again, resigned to what comes next. Women don’t come before my career, period. Which is why I already know, when Hadley leaves today it will probably be for the last time.

If she walks out the door, I won’t be heartbroken. I like her well enough, and of course the sex is good, but I’m notin lovewith her. I’m not even sure I’m in lust with her, come to think of it. Either way, there’s nothing about her leaving that I’ll regret. That might make me sound like an asshole, but I’m only being honest.

Besides, I’m pretty sure what she likes best about me is my wallet and my dick, anyway. She’s not actually with me for me. None of them have been. I’m cool with that because it makes it easy to move on once my focus shifts to the game.

“I’m not going out the night before camp, but you can always go yourself.”

“But I can’t get into the VIP section without you.” She bats her thick lashes.

Ah, there it is. The nail in the coffin. Let’s see if she drives it in.

“I only get treated like a VIP cause I play football. If I skip out on that so you can go clubbing, I won’t be doing it much longer. Everything I have is cause of football, and I owe it to my team and my coaches and the fans not to mess up on the field cause of what I do off it. I’m done partying for the next six months, eight if I’m lucky. You can go anywhere you want and do anything you want during that time. I’m not stopping you. I just won’t be going with you.”

“Oh, I get it.” She scowls. “Football is starting, so now you’re kicking me to the curb.”

“No.” I tell her honestly. “I’m telling you my schedule won’t allow for partying or traveling, but I’m not asking you to give those things up just cause I can’t do them with you. I have a job that requires me to be at my best physically, which means lots of sleep, no partying and clean eating all season long. If you want to stay with me during the season, I’m happy to have the company. But I’m good at what I do because I’m disciplined, and that means no fun and games during the season.”

I can see her weighing her options, wondering if I’m worth the sacrifices to her social life. It’s the same every year.

She drops her eyes to the ground, the corners of her mouth drooping. She’s made her decision. Her eyes get a little glassy, cause she feels a little sad about it, but not sad enough to stay. “I’m not sure that’s how I want to spend the next six months."

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