Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“What’d they say?” Ramsey asked.
“Both Patrick and I are suspended while there’s an investigation. The NFL is going over the film of every single game we’ve played against each other. They’ll make a decision and an official announcement afterward.”
“Shit, man. I’m sorry,” G said.
“Fuck that. They’re not going to find anything, and they can’t drop you for being with another player. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen,” Ramsey added.
I nodded, but I couldn’t do this with them. Not right then. “I need to call Patrick.” He was all I needed.
21
WHITT
The last couple of practices had been rough since Coach had called a team meeting ahead of the NFL announcement, explaining our suspension and what was going on. Not because my teammates were outwardly aggressive or anything, and if they were pissed, no one said anything directly to me, but it felt like we were all trying to figure out how to navigate an awkward situation. I understood why, but that didn’t make it suck any less, and I couldn’t help but feel like I’d let my team down. At the same time, I refused to regret my relationship with Malik. I just couldn’t. Being with him had given me as much as football had—hell, I’d been playing better than I had in my whole career—so to feel like the two things I cared for most had now been put in opposing positions was a hard pill to swallow. I worried about shit on Malik’s end constantly, even though he told me not to, and I knew he meant it, too. But I’d be fucking gutted if he lost all he’d worked for because of me.
Tomorrow, the team would be heading to Kansas City to play, and I’d be staying in LA. Coach had told me I was welcome to tag along, but I didn’t want to make further waves by being there and potentially distracting from the game. Tucker had chosen the same route.
Barker had come to me the day after the NFL announcement and apologized, but I’d told him it wasn’t necessary, because it wasn’t. What he’d said to me wasn’t wrong. Tucker and I had made our bed; we’d lie in it. Or not, as it were, for the time being. Maybe forever if shit went really south, but I forced those thoughts from my mind, trying not to get ahead of myself. If everything fell apart, we’d figure it out.
I headed into the changing area of our locker room with growing dread. The chatter had seemed quieter lately, and maybe I was being overly paranoid, but I constantly felt like every eye was on me. In turn, I’d been keeping to myself, and I did the same today, moving to my cubby and dressing as quickly as possible.
“You know, Whitt, if you were itching for some football dick, you could’ve just chosen me,” Clancy, one of our linebackers, called out, and I spun around.
Though he was smirking, the room got even quieter, as if everyone was waiting to see how I handled it.
I shrugged. “Yeah, but then you’d talk with that fucking Yankee accent and ruin it,” I joked back wryly and wasn’t sure if that had been the right move until several of the guys cracked up.
“Fuck you, dude! It only comes out when I’m drinking.”
“Psht. I can’t understand a goddamn word out of your mouth sometimes,” Barker teased.
“That’s cuz you’re from the swamps. Do you speak in anything but vowels at top speed?”
“Landry ain’t no swamp. My mama would kick your ass if she heard you say that.”
“She run as slow as your ass?”
“Sheee-it.”
“You know how often I’m staring at Horton’s ass,” LaForge piped up. “Definitely thought of it once but then remembered it’s attached to his ugly mug.” He faux shuddered, and Horton hurled his wet towel, smacking LaForge in the side of the face.
“But seriously,” LaForge continued. “You couldn’t have, like, maybe blown Tucker’s back out or something before we played them last time? Helped us out a little?”
I dragged a hand down my face and rolled my eyes. While there was some relief that we were joking about this shit, I was still leery of talking about it, especially since the NFL had stepped in with their inquiry.
“Oh fuck, hold on a second,” Clancy said. “Is that what’s going on with your hip? Tucker knock it out of alignment?”
I snorted. “Nah, that was your dad. Or your mom.” I scratched my chin. “Both, maybe. Memory is kinda fuzzy now.”
“Dayum,” Barker said, and a fresh wave of laughter rang through the room. It felt fucking good. A tiny moment of levity that I soaked in, suspecting it wouldn’t last.
We finished getting dressed, and as we walked out, LaForge wrapped an arm around my shoulder, voice dropping to a confidential tone.
“I think it’s gonna be alright, bro. Just keep kicking ass, and we’ll all do the same. It’ll get figured out.”