Page 93 of Good Girl's Guide to Love
And that’s just way too long.
Hmm…okay…can we do Mexican? If that’s okay with you.
Look at that! I’m so proud of you. And you never have to ask me if Mexican is okay. The answer is always yes. I could eat a burrito every day and never get tired of it.
Good to know. I really just want chips and queso. But I feel like just ordering chips and queso is wrong, like I’m cheating the system, so I’ll get a burrito too.
Ainsley, what do you really want?
The largest chips and queso on the menu. And like one taco.
Then that’s what you’ll get. See you in a few hours.
Can’t wait. But, and I meant to text earlier, but a baby decided that it wanted to be delivered immediately, are you okay?
I let out a deep sigh, running a hand through my hair in frustration as I sit in front of my locker. Headlines on a Monday morning should be all good, especially when you have another game with a touchdown. But somehow, and completely out of left field, a headline sprang up today in a national publication that I didn’t see coming.
Linc Kincaid’s season might be off to hot start. But let’s not forget the man he is.
The column was a hit piece. Painted me in the worst light possible. Brought up shit that I hadn’t thought about in years.
The problem is nothing in it was wrong. Every one of the things that the clickbait columnist wrote happened in my life. I just thought it was all finally in the past.
He pointed out my past history of fighting. Somehow got confirmation of the fights that I used to get back in high school, which I have no idea who he talked to that knew about those. And of course, he brought up the infamous fight that ended my draft prospects and kept me a bouncing around as a practice squad player for most of my career. He even went into detail about how I started boxing in the off season to make some money, which hardly anyone knows about. As he put it, “once a fighter, always a fighter. So when will we see this side of Linc Kincaid again?”
The man knew everything. And I don’t know how. He didn’t interview me. He didn’t reach out to the media relations team here or any of the coaches. Everything was attributed to a “source who knows Kincaid well,” but for the life of me, I don’tknow who could go by that title and want to see me painted in that light.
Needless to say, it motivated me for a hell of a workout today. But now I just want to put it behind me, go have dinner with Ainsley, and then maybe, if I’m lucky, have her for dessert later.
Yeah. I’m fine. Katie says she’s taking care of it. And the team’s communications team is doing some digging for me. It’s just…I didn’t do anything, and shit like this is still popping up.
I’m so sorry. What can I do?
Nothing. Just be you, and when I bring you food tonight, pretend it’s a normal Monday. Tell me all about whatever craziness your siblings are up to, and I’ll tell you the shenanigans from the road trip.
That I can do.
And…I meant to tell you about all of this. I want to. My past. More than the column went into. It’s just…I hate talking about it.
Whenever you’re ready, I’m here. Always. But also know, whoever you were then is not the man I know today. I know that. Your teammates know that. So everything else? It’s just a bunch of crap.
Only Ainsley can say the word “crap” and make me smile enough to almost snap me out of my funk.
Crap? That’s a borderline bad word, Ainsley Mae.
If you think that’s bad, you should’ve heard what was going through my mind many times last week.
Woman…are you trying to kill me?
Me? That doesn’t sound like something I would do. But I have to go. See you soon.
I’ll get extra queso.
Best “boyfriend” ever!
I stare at the last message she sent, the quotation marks around boyfriend sticking out like a sore thumb.
Obviously she put them there on purpose. The purpose is me. I’ve been the one saying all along that I couldn’t give her more than this. But every day I spend with her—every time I kiss her, every time I taste her, every time she’s in my orbit—I refuse to think about what’s going to happen at the end of this season when she’s not part of my life anymore.
