Page 44 of Everywhere You Look

“Hey, so I’m going to head down to the Redwoods training facility. I’m meeting up withJames Adler. I figured since he gave us such a generous wedding gift, I should see what he has to say. He’s sending a car to pick me up in like ten minutes,” Luke says, brushing a comb through his hair, taming down the curls that formed from the humidity on set.

“Oh, wow. You finally got the balls to answer your phone.”

I mean for it to come out sounding playful, but I miss the mark and swing right for annoyed, petulant, and bratty. And boy, does Luke notice. He visibly tenses, then makes a face of annoyance, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Woah, okay. I was going to see if you wanted to come with me since your sister has the kids until dinner time. But apparently some kind of bug has crawled up your ass…”

No, but if you wanted to play around back there, I wouldn’t be mad about it.

“Nah, I’m good,” I say as I hike my bag over my shoulder. “I’m just tired. I could use a nap. I’ll see you later.”

I brush past Luke without a second glance, hoping that an afternoon to myself will help me shake off some of this self-loathing.

18

GOOD NEWS, BAD NEWS

Luke

Pulling up to the Redwoods’ practice facility just outside of San Francisco is a surreal experience. It was only two seasons ago that I was still here as part of the team, still the franchise quarterback—if only in name, since my injury kept me on the sideline—but it feels like a lifetime ago. I’m a completely different person than I was when I was Luke Cannon, Quarterback of the San Francisco Redwoods. And while I no longer believe that I am here to be ripped a new asshole for being…well…an asshole…during my last season, I’m still not sure why James has been so adamant about meeting with me, let alone meeting here.

Nerves flutter in my stomach as the SUV pullsinto the underground garage. I wish Dean was here with me. He’s so good at being the calm to my storm when I’m on the verge of losing my shit. But part of me is glad he stayed back in the city, because holy fucking hell, that photoshoot was hot. Spending an hour wrapped around my husband’s naked body, feeling his dick brushing up against mine, watching his grey eyes go wide and dark while hovering my lips just above his was an insane kind of sensory overload that I didn’t know how to handle. I had to keep reminding myself that it was fake, that Dean is just a good model who knows how to give the camera what it wants.

There’s no guarantee that, if he had agreed to accompany me this afternoon, I wouldn’t have dropped to my knees in the backseat of this SUV and begged him to fuck my throat. And those are the kinds of thoughts and impulses that I can’t act on, unless I want this whole marriage to blow up in my face.

When the driver pulls up to the tunnel that leads out to the practice field, I try to give her a tip for the service. She refuses, letting me know she was paid handsomely by James when he arranged the trip, and she’d be here waiting when I was ready to go back to the city. I thank her, and then head into the tunnel, my head swirling with conflicting emotions.

Nostalgia, dread, curiosity, and that exhilarating feeling I used to get when I’d hear the roar of a crowd on game day all battle for dominance in my mind. But when I walk out onto the field, I’m immediately jumped by two blonde-pig-tailed tiny humans dressed in Redwoods red and gold, and all those conflicting emotions are replaced with one that’s more overwhelming than the rest—pure, unbridled joy.

“Uncle Lukey!” Lemmie and Mellie squeal as they squeeze my calves, each of them standing on one of my shoes and hugging me tight.

“Chickadees! What are you doing here? Did you steal Miss Kira’s car and drive here all by yourselves?” I ask, running a hand over each of their heads. I spot Kira on the sideline, sitting on a bench while Ollie scoots around on the turf in front of her. Out on the field, the other kids from their group of friends chase each other around the fifty-yard line. A group of guys that I vaguely recognize as the husbands of some of Kira’s girlfriends toss a football around in a circle with James and the Redwoods’ head coach, Giovanni Mancini. James spots me at the end of the tunnel and nudges Giovanni, and they both come jogging over. I give them an awkward wave, then turn my attention back to my girls.

“We came to surprise you! Are you surprised?” Lemmie squeals as she bounces on my sneaker.

“Yes, Lem, I am so surprised! I’m the luckiest uncle in the world to have nieces like you.”

“Mr. James said this is going to be your new job place! It’s so fun here, Uncle Lukey. We get to run around the big field, and there are hot dogs. We want to come to work with you every day!” Mellie says, just as James and Giovanni approach us.

“My…my new job place…” I say, carefully. Like I’m testing the weight of the words on my tongue. James claps me on the back, then crouches down to the girls’ level.

“We hope it’s going to be his new job place. Why don’t you ladies go play with the other kids? I’ll get to work on convincing your Uncle Lukey that this is the best place to work, alright?”

He offers up two fists for knocking, and Lem and Mel bump their tiny fists against his, the too-expensive gold bracelets Dean gifted them dangling from their wrists and catching the light of the sun. Then they sprint off towards the intense game of tag happening out on the field.

“My new job place,” I repeat the ridiculous sentence, trying to wrap my mind around its meaning. I’m retired. Even if I wanted to come out of retirement, I couldn’t. My knee is fucked. I can’t playprofessional ball, so how am I supposed to work here? Does James want me on staff to repaint the turf and do the player’s laundry as a punishment for being a dick of epic proportions?

“Come on up to my office, Cannon. We want to talk to you about joining the offensive coaching staff,” Giovanni says, patting my shoulder. My eyes go wide, and I feel myself go slack-jawed.

“Join the coaching staff…” I mumble, because apparently I’ve lost the ability to form full sentences.

“Bet you wish you’d answered my calls a little sooner, huh?” James says with a patronizing smile and tilt of his head that I completely deserve.

An hour later, I leave the executive suites of the Redwoods’ facility with a job offer and the promise of a contract to be delivered via email, and there’s only one person I want to tell.

Luke

Dean! Holy shit. Dean. What are you doing? I’m all finished up here, your sister brought the kids down. Let’s meet up for dinner, I have so much to tell you.

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