Page 11 of The Run Option

“That makes one of us.” Calvin sighs. “What do you get a man who could buy anything he wants, whenever he wants?”

Something rare that he hasn’t been able to find.Like a signed rookie card of one of his favorite baseball players. Since my dear friend Emmett plays in the major leagues, he has some connections. When I asked him about the card, he gave me the number of a seller who had asked for his signature. That seller gave me the information for a collector who said he wouldn’t part ways with the card, but then he realized I wanted it and let me buy it. One of those times where it pays extra to be in the NFL. The card was the cost of a car–a very nice car–but it’ll be worth it to see the look on Jamal’s face.

“You could get him one of those old pinball machines for his game room,” I suggest.

“I think I heard three other guys say they were doing that,” Calvin says. “I’m just going to get him a dune buggy. He likes crashing into stuff.”

I laugh. “I’m sure Aaliyah will love that.”

“It’ll give her a new set of keys to hide,” he says with a chuckle.

Jamal’s wife has been known to throw away the keys to some of his toys. He always comes to practice complaining, but I know he secretly loves how much she cares about his safety. I wouldn’t mind having someone like that myself.

As we near the doors, I spy another post-practice sign. But Willow isn’t there holding it. Instead, Bianca smiles from behind her phone as our punter, Mateo, tells her how he’d be a chef if he weren’t a football player.

“No Willow today?” I ask Bianca once it’s my turn in front of the camera.

She shakes her head. “She had a family emergency last night and couldn’t come in today.”

My smile drops. “Is she okay?”

“I think so. She said she’d be back to work and ready to travel with the team for the game Sunday.”

“She didn’t say what happened?” I press, earning a curious look from Calvin. I’m probably showing my hand here, but I’m too worried for Willow to care. Should I be this worried about a woman who claims to hate me? Probably not. But somehow she’s made it onto the list of people I care about, and when I care for someone, I don’t do it in halves.

“She did, but I don’t think she’d want me to tell you.” Bianca gives me a pointed look. “Now, are you going to answer my question or not?”

My brain is zeroed in on Willow, but I try to give the question some thought. What would I do if I weren't a football player?

“It’s hard to say since I’ve wanted to be one my whole life,” I say, looking at the phone camera. “But if I had to choose, I’d probably raise and train horses.”

Bianca’s brows lift a little, whether in surprise or appreciation or something else, I don’t know. And I don’t stick around to find out. I shoot the camera one more smile before rushing off to shower and change. Maybe I shouldn’t care about Willow so much, but I do. So I’m going to do all that I can to brighten her day for when she comes back.

After a quick shower, I pull on a Lions hoodie and matching maroon sweatpants. Then I slide on my tennis shoes and grabmy duffel from my locker area. I need to get to the store and back before the interns lock the office for the day. I could convince a maintenance worker to open it, but I’d rather avoid them going out of their way if I can.

The drive to the nearest grocery store is short, and I spend the entire time racking my brain for what Willow might like. Her favorite candy has been my gift to her for months now, but that doesn’t seem like enough. She loves her job and the team, so maybe I can snag some merch from the facility’s storage on my way back. It would be stuff that only the players have, which she might find cool.

We’ve had several interactions over the course of knowing her, but most are brief. Willow tends to be the one asking me questions. I wish I could go back in time and insist she answer them too.

An idea dawns on me as I park outside the store. Her social media. She posts on her own accounts all the time. I’ve avoided watching her content because it feels a little too stalker-like, but watching a few videos to see if she shares what she likes isn’t so bad. I rake a hand through my hair as I open TikTok.

A handful of videos later–probably more than necessary, but no one will ever know–I’ve learned that she loves movie nights, doing face masks, and when it’s cold out because being cozy is a top priority of hers. Oh, and she’s addicted to Diet Coke and lime, but I gathered that from the other night at the bar.

With that knowledge in hand, I head into the store to buy a gift for a woman who has a good chance of looking at all this and turning her nose up at it.

Chapter seven

Willow Delmont

I can barely keep my eyes open as I walk through the front door of my apartment. I almost forget to take my shoes off at the door. After haphazardly kicking them off–during which one shoe ends up in my kitchen–I stumble to the nearest cozy surface: my couch. I sink into the plush cushions, curling my feet beneath me and draping a blanket over my legs.

Peace.I close my eyes and breathe, and then the children upstairs choose this very moment to practice their tumbling skills. I blink open my eyes, trying not to give in to the temptation to cry again. Granny Mae is perfectly fine, as she told me herself over a dozen times. But I still feel rattled.

After losing Granddaddy, I’ve been fearful of Granny following close behind. She’s so healthy and full of life, but so was he. The heart attack came swift and fierce, like a tornado straight through my life. Working through the grief felt similar to cleaning up after a natural disaster. My parents, Granny, and I had to sort through the wreckage together. I don’t want to do that again, especially since my parents are so far away.

“I hurt my hip; quit treating me like a walking corpse,”Granny had scolded me as I tucked her into bed at her home. I’d wanted to stay with her longer, but I mentioned Jamal’s birthday party while trying to cheer her up. She’d insisted I go and get myself a husband. Said if I was so worried about her dying then I should probably marry before it happens. I was not a fan of that little joke, but I know humor is one of the ways she copes.

So, now I’m hoping to get in a nap before dragging myself to a party with rich athletes and their supermodel wives and girlfriends. I’d much rather put on an old Disney Channel Original movie, order pizza, and eat until I am, as Granny would put it, full as a tick. But I told Jamal and Aaliyah I’d be there. I curl up beneath my fluffy plaid blanket and pull out my phone. I should probably let Bianca know that Granny is home and doing well. She was concerned when I sent her a frantic text at the hospital.

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