He drops back and I take off down the sideline. I run the route, turn as the ball spirals toward me and for a split second I hear Annika’s voice in my head. Inhale.
What happens next isn’t a surprise but it should be. A wide receiver in the professional ranks should be able to catch the ball when his brother is throwing it to him. We’re basically playing catch. No defenders. No crowd. Not full speed.
I swear under my breath.
Greyson groans, “Bro, come on.”
“My bad. I’ve got this one,” I yell but I’m not sure if I do.
He tosses another perfect ball. Same result.
“Fuck.”
Greyson’s shoulders fall as he makes his way back to me.He claps my shoulder. “Hey. You’re thinking too much. Maybe this performance coach is making your yips worse.”
I drag my hand through my hair. “I had this problem before her. She’s helping.” My tone is more defensive than it should be.
Greyson shakes his head like he doesn’t buy it. He looks toward the sideline. “Well, that explains almost everything.”
“What?”
“You must be her favorite client.” He gestures with his head to the bleachers.
I follow his gaze and my gut takes a punch I didn’t see coming. Annika is sitting in the stands with her glasses on. Just watching. Arms folded.
Suddenly, the entire practice field feels ten degrees hotter.
“No wonder you can’t catch. She’s…”
“Shut up.”
“It’s understandable that your mind is in a different place.”
“It’s not.”
He raises his hands, one with the football and says, “It is and I think maybe she’s exactly what you need.”
My brother is retiring after this year, and I want to win the big game with him. No trio of brothers have ever done it—head coach, quarterback and wide receiver. I want to be mentioned in the same breath as them. Easier said than done.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
Matt blows his whistle and the offense huddles up around him, barking out drills and reminding us of thegame plan for this week’s opponent. When we break, Matt pulls me aside.
“What’s going on with the performance coach?”
Does he know that I crossed the line and kissed her?
“Nothing. I mean we’re trying to get to the root of the problem.”
“If you want to talk, come over tonight. Noelle and the kids want to see you.”
“Thanks, but I have plans tonight.” I don’t. But maybe I could make plans with the woman playing with my head in more ways than one.
We warm up again and get the blood flowing to our muscles, then we go through non-contact drills and then move on to offense and defense. It’s not full speed but just running routes and plays that we’re adding into the playbook for this week’s game.
An hour later, Greyson calls the play and if I’m remotely open, it’s coming to me. I inhale, say the cue word to interrupt my fear and zone in on the ball whipping my way. And it stays in my hands. Thank God.