The Steel had a game on Sunday and then were playing on Thursday night again. Since it was a short recovery week, the team was heading back home right after the game, rather than leaving on Monday morning. That meant there wouldn’t be locker room interviews after the game Sunday. Field reporters could attempt to grab a key player or two as they walked off the field, but regular access to the entire team was limited to an after-practice open locker room.
Reporters could enter at five tonight. I worked from my laptop at the hotel in the morning, managed to drag my ass to the gym for a forty-five-minute run, and got to the field where the Steel were practicing by three. I climbed the bleachers and sat watching the special teams unit run through drills.
It had been a really long time since I’d sat on the cold metal on a chilly fall day to watch a practice. Even though a huge part of my life had been spent on the bleachers of a football field, it was almost as if my life was in two acts, and the curtain had come down on part one. Yet here I was back again. It was almost surreal.
Talking about Drew last night and watching the team my father captained for so many years weighed heavy on my heart. When Drew and I had first started dating, he was a hardcore soccer player. He’d never even tried football. I remembered the first time I brought Drew around to meet Dad. We were in tenth grade, and he was half starstruck to meet the great Tom Maddox.
Dad told him to have a seat and spent the better part of two hours selling him on the benefits of being a football kicker rather than a soccer player. That fall, Drew tried out for the varsity football team and became the starting kicker.
A loud whistle brought my attention back to the field. Brody had been talking to Coach Ryan on the sideline while the special teams unit finished up on the field, but the practice squads were changing places now. The offensive linemen jogged onto the field while the other players jogged off. I couldn’t hear anything, but I watched intently as Brody took his place behind the center and pointed to various things. Players made adjustments and moved around at his command.
The man was no different off the field than he was on. He was aggressive, confident, aware of everything going on around him and completely in charge. I felt like a high school cheerleader, but I was also a little turned on watching Brody in action so closely. I’d missed this part of my life. I loved the game itself. But watching someone I cared about play out on that field did something to me. The catches, the leaps, the sheer athleticism of twenty-two men joining together to form one unit and compete. There was something just so innately beautiful about it.
Even though I’d never stopped being involved with football, something reawakened in me while I watched from the bleachers that afternoon. I wasn’t sure if it was my love of the sport or hope that I could one day again combine my love for the sport with a man on the field.
The locker room had a very different vibe after practice than it did after a game. It was more relaxed and laid-back; even coaches were laughing. Nick had flown in that morning, so I found him, and we got an interview with a rookie wide receiver who was starting this weekend, then moved on to bigger fish. Brody was surrounded by his usual long line, so I looked around for another player to grab in the meantime. Curiosity had me on the second longest line for more than one reason. Colin Anderson was about to play his first game with the Steel, and no one had yet discovered the reason behind the college feud with Brody.
Colin was changing at a locker four over from Brody, but the one player who was utilizing the space between them had already disappeared into the shower. Nick and I waited a solid twenty minutes before we were next to interview Colin. In my peripheral vision, I caught Brody eyeing where I was. He looked at me, glared at Colin, then turned his attention back to me until our eyes met.
When it was our turn, I introduced myself as I normally would. “Hi, Colin, I’m Delilah Maddox with—”
“Brody Easton.” He gave me a sly smile and then looked over at Brody, who was doing his own interview, but the two men locked gazes for a brief second.
“Actually, I’m with WMBC Sports News.” I attempted to change the subject. “Could I ask you a few questions for our Sunday pregame report?”
“Anything for you.”
Just what I need. “Ready, Nick?” I had a bad feeling and wanted this over before I’d even started.
Luckily Nick never took long, and we were rolling thirty seconds later. “Congratulations on your trade, Colin. Are you excited to play your first game with the team on Sunday?”
“I am. I’ve only been here a few weeks, but it feels good. I think I’ve found my home with the Steel.”
Even though I was dying to ask what had happened with him and Brody back in college, I didn’t. Something told me that Colin was looking for a reason to screw with Brody, and I wasn’t going to be the spark to ignite that old fire.
The interview went off without a hitch. Colin was actually charming and very professional. After it was over, Nick lowered his equipment, and I tossed my microphone into my bag. “Thank you for your time, Colin. Best of luck Sunday.”
He caught me off guard when he leaned in and kissed my cheek. “The pleasure was all mine.” As I started to walk away, he stopped me. “I’m in Suite 801. I don’t mind sharing if you’re down with it. It’ll be like the old days for Brody and me.”
What the hell?
“Come on, Delilah,” Nick said. “Locker room is only open for another ten minutes. We need to get Easton in the can.”
My head was spinning while we waited to interview Brody. Was that what the feud had been about? The two of them had been sharing women in college? I wasn’t naïve; there was a certain group of women who would do anything to be with a player. They didn’t even have to be professional yet. In fact, the football groupies were even more prevalent in college. Young bodies, raging hormones and the stardom that came with televised Big Ten football. Brody’s confidence with women hadn’t come from sitting in his dorm room studying. I knew there was ample opportunity for players; I even knew he was a player. I just didn’t need that reminder shoved in my face about the man I was sleeping with—a man I had started to fall for.
I was glad there were a few people ahead of us; it gave me time to cool off and remind myself that being inside this locker room was for my career, not for my personal life. I needed to act like a professional.
When our turn came to interview Brody, I put on my best game face. “Long line for you today. I promise to make it quick.”
“What did he say to you?”
“Who?” I knew damn well who.
“Anderson.”
“He answered my interview questions.”
“And after he kissed you. What the fuck did he whisper in your ear?”
I had been hoping he hadn’t caught that. “It was nothing.”
“Delilah,” he growled.
“Can we discuss this later? I’d rather have this talk in private.”
Brody turned to Nick and stared at him. Nick had been fiddling with his camera, but he caught on quick.
“You want me to give you a few minutes?”
I said no at the exact same time that Brody said yes. Poor Nick looked torn.
“Give us a minute, will ya, Nick?” Brody was asking, but the sternness in his voice made it not really a question.
Nick stepped away. “What did he say, Delilah?”
“It’s not important.”
“To me it is. Was he hitting on you? I can handle that if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll have a talk with him another time, but I won’t cause a scene if that’s all it was.”
I looked in his eyes. He was sincere. “Yes. He was just flirting. Told me he didn’t mind sharing. That sharing with you would be just like the old college days.”
I expected Brody to be angry. I also expected him to keep to his word not to cause a scene. Shit, was I wrong.
In a matter of seconds, all hell broke loose. Brody slammed Colin up against a locker. Reporters were yelling, players hurdled benches to get to the two men, and coaches were ripping bodies out of their way to get to their star players.
Brody threw a punch, someone grabbed Colin and jerked him to the right, and Brody landed a fist into a locker so hard, the metal was dented by a massive fist print. Both men attempted to get at each other, but there were so many people holding them back, no actual blows were exchanged.
When the two of them were separated, Coach Ryan blew a loud whistle and yelled for everyone except the team to vacate the locker room. Reporters were wrangled like cattle to the exit.
“What the hell is between those two?” Nick asked me when we were out in the hall.
I had no idea, but I was about to find out.