Page 23 of Presley's Christmas Catch
Our weightlifting workout first thing in the morning keeps my mind off things, but by the time I’m in meetings at mid-morning, there’s nothing to do but think about what happened. Itry to focus on the team meeting and the position group meeting that follows, but I feel like I’ve gotten the bare minimum out of what we’re talking about. Pretty hypocritical considering my criticism on Thursday afternoon.
That’s the thing. I should feel some loyalty and partnership with the guys in my position group, but I don’t. Maybe we’re all checked out because of what I did. They have every right to be mad about what I said. Attitudes aside, we’re all here doing our best, even if we have different ideas of what the best thing to do is.
By the time we get to the field for the correction period, I’m holding myself back from doing everything full tilt. We’re not wearing pads, just jerseys and helmets, so letting loose will get someone hurt, and that’s the last thing I need to add to this mess. When we get to conditioning, I’m able to burn off a little steam.
That doesn’t mean I head into the locker room calm, especially not when one of the assistant coaches comes to get me after my shower. Thiscouldjust be another talking to. It’s been a long time since something like this has happened, and maybe I’ve earned some good will. Hey, my comments have been all anyone is talking about after our spectacular loss to the Rays, so maybe my distraction from the bigger problems and the way they use that to ignore the issues will get me a pass.
But in my gut, I know that’s not what this is.
Especially when the general manager is sitting in the office with the coach when I arrive.
CHAPTER 9
PRESLEY
I’ve been antsy all day, even though it’s nothing compared to how Brock must be feeling. But every sports commentator in the business is weighing in about Brock’s future, and none of them are saying anything good.
Lincoln stops by the training room when I’m helping Eli stretch out the leg he bruised on Thursday. “Everything’s going to be fine,” Lincoln says, and it’s embarrassing that my emotions must be written all over my face.
“Have you heard from Brock?” I ask. I’ve gone back and forth on whether I should just text him about it. Are we that close yet? It’s hard to say. So much of our friendship is built around TOK, even though there’s more to it than the books. But when we do have the deeper conversations, we both seem to revert to book talk when we want to lighten things up.
Lincoln grimaces. “I haven’t. But no matter what happens, he’ll land on his feet. Brock is one of the best left tackles in the league. If the Devils let him go, someone’s going to sign him.”
“But what about the way people talk about him—the commentators, social media? They make it seem like this is really bad.” I can’t help but worry about how the reputation that the Devils have fed to make him the scape goat will affect his career.Left-tackles don’t normally have this kind of spotlight, and the spotlight that Brock’s unfairly gotten is hurting him now.
Lincoln lets out a scoff. “People who actually know what they’re talking about can see through the hype. Someone will sign him, Pres.”
Maybe being free of the Devils would be for the best. Brock deserves a team that appreciates him.
Lincoln’s words do their job though and ease my worries. Brock has handled a lot in his life. He can handle this too.
I just hate that it has to be this way for him.
I wait as long as I possibly can before breaking down and texting Brock around ten p.m. That way, if he’s already in bed, he can easily ignore my text if he doesn’t want to talk about it.
Presley:I’ve been thinking about you all day. How are you?
He answers much quicker than I expected. The bubbles pop up instantly and then his text comes through.
Brock:Team-less for the moment.
I immediately switch over to my phone app. I’d do a Facetime call, but Brock might not want anyone to see him right now. I tap on his name to call him.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.” Tightness winds in my chest. Lincoln said everything would be fine, but that doesn’t stop the ache I feel at Brock’s dejected tone. “This sucks.”
He laughs softly, surprising me. “No TOK quote?”
“I don’t think ‘This sucks,’ is a phrase common in fantasy novels, to be honest.”
“Maybe in book sixteen.” Brock’s voice has lightened a tiny bit, which unwinds some of the tension in me. He lets out a sigh. “In some ways, it’s a relief.”
I glare at my lap, wishing I could be there with Brock now. “The Devils don’t deserve you. There’s another team out there right now, ready to snatch you up.”
I hear another sigh from his end, this one with less frustration than the first. “My agent says a couple teams have called, so that’s promising.”
“Brock, that’s more than promising.” I pump my fist into the air in silent celebration. “You just got let go today. Of course everyone else is smarter than the Devils.”
