Page 81 of Fate in Motion
I nod, a little curious. “Alright. I’ll see you after this meeting.”
Coach gives me a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, it’ll be an easy practice today. We need everyone in tip-top shape for tomorrow’s game.”
He gets up from the chair, pats my shoulder on the way out, and closes the door behind him.
I take a seat on a comfortable brown leather chair in front of My’ Hernandez’s desk. I lean forward and shake the man's hand.
“Hello, Mr. Hernandez. Nice to finally meet you; well, formally meet you.”
He smiles. “Call me Carlos, Carter.”
Then he cuts straight to it. “I’m sure you’re well aware of the media storm: the articles, the posts, the reactions. The hate, yes, but also the love. I just wanted to tell you face-to-face: the entire Hawks organization has your back.”
I nod, my chest lightening. “Thank you. Seriously, thank you. I didn’t want to do a press conference, it just didn’t feel right. However, I’m happy to sit down with the PR team sometime this week to go over how to handle reporters. Whatever you need.”
Carlos smiles. “Completely fair. We’ll keep it low-pressure. But yeah, a little prep will help you feel more in control when those questions start flying.”
I nod, a little more confidently now. “And just to say it directly, I want to reassure you that football is my focus. I want to win. I want us in the damn playoffs. That’s all I care about right now.”
Carlos’s grin widens. “We love to hear that. And trust me, when I say, "Coach, myself, and the entire front office have all had our eyes on you.”
I tilt my head, intrigued.
“I know your contract is up after this season,” he says. “And I know you’re hoping for a new deal. I don’t have specific numbers or details to share with you today, but I can tell you that we’re working on something. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
My face lights up. “Thank you, thank you. That’s all I want. I want to be here long term.”
Carlos nods. “Anytime, Carter. Now go get to practice.”
I stand, shake his hand again, and walk out the door feeling a surge of energy and joy. I shoot Nate a quick text on the wayto the locker room: That was such a great meeting. I love this team. And I love you.
Practice runs just under two hours. Everyone treats me exactly the same, they fuck with me the same way, same tone, same energy. Nothing’s changed, and that makes me feel more assured than ever.
After practice, I head into the locker room with such excitement for tomorrow’s game. I throw on my clothes, give a few nods to teammates on my way out, and step into the cool evening air.
I can’t wait to see Nate. I can’t wait to win tomorrow. And I can’t wait to take this team to the playoffs.
Nate
Ilie in bed on this beautiful, snowy Christmas Eve morning, still unable to believe it’s already December 24th. How is the year almost over?
The past month has been absolutely incredible. I decided the Christopher Street property was perfect, and we signed a full-year lease, with the option to extend in the future. I’ve made serious progress on the cafe, including paying Carter and Mel toward the total investment and filling out the space. I even splurged on an expensive espresso machine and coffee system. Both can pump out drinks quickly and efficiently without sacrificing quality. All I care about is serving future guests amazing coffee, well, during the day at least.
Carter, Mel, and I decided the cafe will transform into a relaxed BYOB wine-and-beer lounge at night. We’ll still serve coffee for anyone craving a late-night caffeine fix, but we’ll also offer a selection of pastries and sandwiches.
The idea is to create a cozy space where people can relax and listen to their peers sing during an open mic night or karaokenight. Friday through Sunday will be open mic nights, while Wednesday and Thursday will be karaoke nights. Mondays and Tuesdays will stay mellow, with no events, just good ambiance. Obviously, all of this is subject to change depending on customer interest.
If all goes as planned, the cafe will be fully functional and ready to open by mid-July, which is right around the time the Hawks’ training camp starts. I really hope Carter gets the extension he’s been waiting for. He wants to stay in New York, but we’ve discussed doing long-distance if he ends up signing elsewhere. I don’t want to think about that possibility; it would destroy me.
I’ve been letting Carter sleep in a bit longer over the past few days. His body’s been feeling the countless hits. His team has been playing incredible football, with a 10–5 record and just one game left. The Hawks clinched a division title for the first time in years last Sunday.
They partied all night, and he even brought me along, which was absolutely amazing. His team is amazing, and I understand why he is obsessed with so many of them. I even get what he sees in Jack Sawyer. The guy’s hot, I can’t lie. I low-key think he’d be perfect for Mel, who’s literally obsessed with him, but I doubt that’ll ever happen.
Carter’s been thriving since coming out fully. His team has handled everything fantastically: the reporters, the awful news articles, even the random a-holes who yell slurs mid-game. He hasn’t signed a contract yet, but the GM and Coach keep saying it’s coming. I know better than to get my hopes up, but I can’t curb his optimism.
I glance over. Carter finally stirs awake.
“Babe, what time is it?” he asks, voice groggy.
