Page 13 of Delicate Storm

I’m so far past the point with this drama that I actually laugh.

“Okay, great. Glad we got that out in the open. Can we practice now?”

“What? I don’t get a thanks?”

“Fuck no. But you can rest assured, your face is safe. I won’t try to rearrange it.”

Luke smiles triumphantly as though he just changed the world before jogging away, leaving Zane and me alone until our receiver coach arrives.

“You two work out your differences?” he asks with his brows raised.

“Of course. Like Luke wanted… we’re one big happy family.”

“That’s what we like to hear. Now, line up for some tracking drills. Thomas is on his way over.”

As if waiting for an introduction, our quarterback, Thomas Kelly, joins us with a smile, grabbing my arm as Zane runs off to get in position.

“I’m sorry you have to work so closely with him,” he says, his eyes locked on Zane. “I wouldn’t fault you if youaccidentallykneed him in the balls.”

I’ve always liked Thomas. He’s a solid captain but still keeps mostly to himself. It’s a good combination. “Thanks, Kelly.” I offer him a smirk. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

After practice, Coach Pearce announces that our new team owner will be here to meet us on Friday, and a few of my teammates groan. To say I was shocked when our previous owner sold the team is the understatement of the year. We’d just won the Super Bowl. We were champions, he was the face of the team… and he left? Seems crazy to me.

But it turns out, he’d been planning it for years, wanting to get into movie producing—hence the reason for our TV show. No one knew he was the puppet master for that little production.

The only thing I know about the new owner is that he’s the youngest to ever buy a team, and he’s here to “shake things up,”—Keeley’s words not mine—whatever that means. I haven’t looked him up yet, and unlike her, I don’t tend to stalk people’s social media presence, so I have no idea what to expect. But I figure, as long as I do my job and do it well, I’ve got nothing to worry about.

I actually doubt anyone on the team needs to be worried. Why would you change a championship roster? You’d be crazy. At least wait to see how this season goes. If we make a mess of things, then sure, shake it up, but for now, he’d be better to just let things play out.

But who am I to talk about big business decisions?

“Do you think the management team will change?” one of the guys on our defensive team asks from behind me, concern clear in his voice.

I don’t wait for anyone to respond, because a second later, we’re dismissed, and I’m out of there. One day down, and it wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be.

The group chat lights up on my drive home, and I don’t have to look to know they’ll be covering one of two topics—my talk with Zane or speculation about the new owner. Since I have more important things to concern myself with, I mute the chat and focus on the shitstorm I’m coming home to. My phone rings as that thought enters my mind and Macy’s name flashes on my screen—making me deal with the storm sooner than I would have liked.

“Is this a dream?” I ask by way of an answer and immediately regret not calling it a nightmare.

Macy laughs sarcastically. “Come on, Easton. I’ve known you for years; you’re no comedian.”

“Really?” I scoff. “Now that’s funny, because our entire relationship was a joke.”

“Ugh.” Macy sighs as I pull up at a red light. “I didn’t call to get in another argument.”

“Then why did you calltoday, when I’ve been callingyouall week?”

“I had some free time. Are you back?”

For fuck’s sake. “I am.”

“Have you been by the house?”

“I have. Don’t you listen to your voicemails?”

“No. I never do. You know that. If you want me, you need to text me.”

I roll my eyes and take off as the light turns green, putting my foot down harder than I should. “Or,” I snap in frustration, “you could return my goddamn calls.”

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