“Or maybe he’s finally found out you’ve been sneaking Honey into the locker room late at night,” Dax adds.
I freeze, cutting a look at Dax.
That’s not public knowledge, so how the fuck did he know?
Dax points at me triumphantly. “Ha! I knew it! You dirty dog. Word of advice, her hair bows are basically a trademark. One shows up down here, and we all know who’s been in the locker room.”
I roll my eyes, not dignifying him with an answer, and head out with a one-finger salute. That earns a round of laughter from the team as I head down the hall, passing the pictures of alumni quarterbacks.
Carter Briggs…. Beckett Slade… Jett Wallace…
Then there’s a space before Jacob Miller. Not sure who that was for, or why we switched to our alternative uniform colors after, but I don’t have time to care. The most important thing is thatmypicture will be the one after Jacob’s.
I knock lightly on Coach’s door.
“Come in, Evans.”
He doesn’t look up as I walk in—he’s too busy scribbling something out with enough aggression to rip the paper. I drop into the chair across from him and glance at the framed photo of his daughter, Bella, on the corner of his desk with what looks like Big Ben in the background.
“Good game today,” he says, finally setting the pen down. His tone is neutral, but coming from Coach, that’s basically a standing ovation. “Your accuracy’s improved since last week.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
I brace for the inevitable “but” that usually follows, only it doesn’t come. Instead, he leans back in his chair and levels me with a look.
“I’ve been in talks with a few teams down south while we’re there for the southern swing. The Crossbills have kindly agreed to let us train at their practice facilities over the week we’re there.”
“That’s amazing. It’s going to be an honor to train there.”
Coach nods. “Save the platitudes. You are the leader of the team, and with that comes the responsibility of leading by example. I expect you to be on your best behavior.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This isn’t just practice, Evans. This is an opportunity to meet with NFL staff, teams, and the like. I expect you to take full advantage of it.”
“I will, sir.”
He gives me a stern look before reaching into his desk drawer. He pulls out a slip of paper and pushes it toward me. “On that point, Jacob Miller wants to have dinner with you while we’re down there. Just you. Said he was impressed with that game film I sent him last month.”
“You sent him my film footage?”
“Yeah, he requested it after his coach asked about you.”
Hiscoach asked about me?
“See,” Coach adds as if he can hear my thoughts. “I told you. This is a huge opportunity, and I want you to be able to take full advantage of it. The team is looking at you, and we want them to keep it that way.”
My heart rate kicks up a notch at all the implications running through my mind. They asked Jacob Miller about me. I’ve spoken to him briefly before I committed to St. Michael’s but that’s it.
I honestly assumed he’d forgotten about me.
“That’s… wow.” I swallow the sudden dryness in my throat. “Thank you for setting that up, Coach.”
“I didn’t,” Coach says simply. “Miller requested it specifically. Said he sees something in you.” He leans forward. “This is a big opportunity, Evans. It’s huge exposure and people will be watching.”
By “people,” he means NFL scouts. Agents. The kind of connections that can make or break my draft stock.
“I’ll be ready,” I say, already mentally preparing myself for the things we’re going to talk about. “Is there anything else I should know before I meet him?”