Don't Promise (Don't 3)

“I’m glad it’s not worse.”

I smiled even though she couldn’t see it. “Thanks. Me too. Listen, I’ve gotta run. I have a lot to do before I head to the game.”

“All right. See you tonight. But I’m getting details when I see you. You’re not getting out of this that easily. I know your avoidance tactics.”

“Heather, there’s nothing to tell. I’ll see you there.”

I hung up and looked at the clock again. Finally. It was after noon and I could convince myself Sam was gone. He had driven out of town—back to wherever he came from.

I felt the exhaustion hit my body. I had barely slept. My limbs were sore in new places. And with the realization that he wasn’t in Austin anymore, the tension I held in my shoulders and neck rolled off my skin.

I pulled back my white duvet and climbed under the covers. I had been running on fumes. Forcing myself to push through until I knew it was noon. As soon as my head hit the pillow and my eyes closed, I slept.

9

Sam

I sat on the bench, gripping my helmet between my hands. I stared at my cleats on the dirty floor. We had been in some god-awful locker rooms, and some that would make even us jealous, but the Warriors’ guest locker rooms had to be the worst. There was peeling paint. Chipped tiles in the showers. Half the lockers didn’t close. It was disgraceful to the league. I didn’t know how they got away with it.

Some teams liked to show off their wealth. The Warriors’ ownership didn’t buy into that philosophy. They kept the money for themselves and let everything else fall down around the team.

I felt his heavy hand on my back before I heard his voice. I turned. “Ready?”

Wes was grinning. He loved this shit. His hatred for the Warriors ran deep.

I nodded. “Hell, yeah. Throw the ball to me every time and I’ll get it done.”

“What’s that?” Stubbs yelled from the other side of the junk pit.

“I said I’ll get the TDs this game.”

“Like hell you will.” The wide receiver strutted over. “I’ll take a few myself.”

“Come on, boys,” Wes chuckled. “We can split them. Stubbs, you take four, and Sam, you take another four.”

We laughed. The Wranglers had come here not only to win, but also to annihilate our enemy. We weren’t walking out of here with anything less than a complete and totally humiliating victory.

Right now, none of us were thinking about the cameras or the hype around the opening game for Monday night. We were defending national champions, and this game would prove that we were on our way to becoming repeat champions. We would rightfully claim the title of Texas’s team. The country’s team. It all came down to this game.

I pulled the laces on my shoes, making sure they were extra tight. I liked the feeling across my feet.

Coach Howell walked in the locker room. “Listen up.”

Our mumbling stopped, and we focused on his pre-game speech. I could predict what he would say. It was seldom different game to game.

“Guys, we came here for one thing—to win. It’s opening night. Everyone is watching to see if we can do what we did last season. They’re watching Wes. They’re watching Stubbs. They want to see if Sam can catch the ball. They want to know how many yards Persons can get against their defense. They want to see Grainger’s first game. And all the rest of you… they’re watching. Was it a fluke? Was it luck?

“Well, we know the answer to that. This is a room full of champions.” He paused for a second. “And we’re going to take this game back to San Antonio.”

We all nodded in agreement.

“Bring it in,” he yelled.

I lifted my helmet in the air with everyone else. We could hear the fans through the tunnel. They were screaming and chanting. They would boo when we took the field. They’d throw stuff at our helmets. They’d tell us to fuck off. But it was noise.

The points on the scoreboard would shut them up, and that would make all this shit worth it.

I bowed my head as the Coach led a Wranglers’ prayer.