Page 28 of The Game Plan
Crew chuckles, and I glance at him. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing,” he muses. “Just that you found yourself in a roommate predicament, like I did last year. Think yours will end like mine?”
“With a fist to the face?” I ask, his eyes narrowing in mydirection, both of us remembering the same thing.
“C’mon, man.” Crew flicks on his blinker and navigates us onto the road that leads to the practice center. “She’s pregnant…with someone else’s kid. Why’d you ask her to move in if it’s not because you’re in love with her?”
Gritting my teeth, I huff, tired of my sister, and now, him, assuming I’m in love with her. Which I’m not…I think. “She needs a place to live—a safe place. That’s it.”
“Bullshit,” Crew mutters. “Enough with the hero complex, Campbell. Why can’t you admit your feelings out loud?”
I start to answer, but Crew casts a look in my direction that has me pausing while he rests one hand across the top of the steering wheel. “What happens when she has the baby and you fall in love with her kid? Are you going to let her walk away?”
Shit. That’s something I haven’t thought about. What happens when she does have her baby?
“So, what’s the plan, Grant? You're going to pine for her quietly until she moves out—until she finds someone else to love her and her kid? Or are you going to do something about it?”
My hands grip into fists without realizing it, but the idea of someone else swooping in to be there for her and her baby has anger coursing through my veins. I’ve loved her from afar and lost her. Am I going to risk it a second time?
Running my hands across my face, my beard scratching my palms, I finally look at him. “I don’t want to push her too soon. She’s been through a lot.”
Navigating the truck into an empty spot, Crew shifts the gear into park. “Look, man, I don’t know Sav’s history, but if her past is as rough as you’ve alleged, she’s probably looking for stability. I don’t think you’re pushing her by letting her know how you feel—letting her know you’re still in it for her and that includes her baby.”
“I don’t know, man.”
“Then figure it out, bro. Your past with her isn’t in the past anymore—it’s your present. Decide if you want it to be your future.” Crew turns off the ignition, reaching into the backseat for his gym bag, before hopping out.
Well, fuck me. His parting words land heavier than I expected, and I’m frozen in my seat. Crew gives me a minute before tapping on the side of the truck, gesturing that it’s time to get going. Reaching down, I grab my coach’s bag before shuffling out the door.
Humid air blankets my skin as we walk across the parking lot. I stare at the massive red-brick exterior of the football facility. My mind spins with Crew’s words, but I shove them aside as I switch into my coaching role, which is still weird to me since I played with most of these guys for years. Now I’m expected to be their coach when I’m in the building and not their friend. It’s a weird dynamic.
Crew and I step in line behind a few other players, everyone giving nods in greeting. One of the guys presses the automatic door button, holding it open for everyone to enter the building.
“Morning, fellas,” Gary, the security guard, greets us. He’s been the early-morning attendant since I started my freshman year.
“Morning,” we respond in unison, moving through the lobby toward the hallway. The guys shuffle into the locker room while I make my way to my office. To say it’s my office is a bit of a stretch, more like an oversized coat closet, but I don’t mind.
As an assistant wide receiver coach, I’m not the focal point—I stay in the background. My job balances development, discipline, and anything the head coaches need. I work closely with the guys—especially second and third strings—to keep them improving between seasons. Part of that is overseeing morning weight sessions: tracking reps, weights, routines, andrecoveries. It also means noticing when someone half-asses a set or pushes too hard.
After dropping my bag and grabbing a to-go coffee from the cafeteria, I push open the weight room door. State-of-the-art equipment lines the space, with recovery pools off to the side. Loud rock music blares. Clanks of plates and shouts of encouragement fill the air.
I glance around, scanning the roster on my clipboard. Attendance checked, I move toward the lower body machines where the new freshman receiver, Jeremiah Williams, is working out. He’s good—everyone knows—but with skill comes a media spotlight.
“Looking good, Williams,” I say while stepping next to Jeremiah’s machine.
“Thanks, Coach,” he says, grunting as he pushes against the leg press.
Standing off to the side, I observe each press, making sure he’s doing it correctly. He finishes his set, weights clanging back into place. Jeremiah grabs a towel, wiping the sweat from his face.
“Nice work.” I clap him on the shoulder. “Finish your set and make sure to get a good lower body stretch in. If you’re feeling any discomfort, let me know, and I’ll get you an extra session of recovery.”
He nods, breathing heavily, and I step back, continuing my rounds through the room.
Coaching in July is strange, but summer as an athlete is stranger—a limbo between break and the grind. A battle between off-season recovery and the mental preparation for the war zone of August. Necessary for a great college football career, but it cramps a student’s summer plans.
By noon, we’ve completed strength and conditioning, and we’re out on the temperature-controlled field. I thank God Central Texas has an air-conditioned field, so we aren’t spendinghours in the blazing summer heat. And while the receivers are running zigzags through cones and doing sprint and catch drills, I’m on the sideline, shouting out feedback, running through game footage in my head, all while keeping track of footwork and timing.
As I try to stay focused on the players in front of me, my mind keeps drifting to the woman living in my apartment. Memories flash of the way she stumbled into the kitchen and took a seat at the island with her early morning glow. Nerves radiated off her until I caught her staring at my shirtless body. Her face shifted to surprise when I placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of her, made exactly how she likes it.
