Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Elle and Ben exchange vows, kiss, and, despite this being their vow renewal, they walk down the aisle for the first time as husband and wife. Noah and I follow, loving every minute of the celebration in front of us.
24
NOAH
Waiting around to return to Portland for the season is like waiting to see if it’s going to snow in California in the summer. You know the latter isn’t going to happen, but that doesn’t make the waiting any less painful.
Every day when I turn on ESPN, they’re rubbing it in my face that the Pioneers have drafted another quarterback. Some joker of a sportscaster, who has probably never played a down outside of high school, seems to know more about my career than I do, and has no problem telling everyone who tunes into his show about it. He says I’m done in Portland. The shitty thing is, he’s probably right. The even shittier thing is, I don’t seem to care.
I don’t know when it happened—when I lost the love of the game—but it’s gone. I always told myself that when the game became a chore, I’d quit. Right now, it feels like a chore. However, I love my teammates, and I hate the idea that I might be letting them down. Sure, they’d survive. Some would even move on to another team, but to up and quit seems like I’m breaking up with them.
The thing is, if they retired or got traded, they wouldn’t stop to consider my feelings. They’d expect me to move on to the next running back, wide receiver, or linebacker. It’s rare for players to spend ten or fifteen years in the league and those that have, have escaped severe injuries. Knock on wood, I’ve been lucky. I’ve had a couple concussions, nothing major, but still enough to make me stop and ask myself if this is how I want to continue.
Is football everything?
This question is the easiest one I can answer right now. No, it’s not. Peyton and the baby are everything. Honestly, I sort of like the idea of being home with them or always being around. Peyton shouldn’t have to raise our baby by herself and while I know a lot of moms or dads do while the other works, we don’t have to, thanks to our parents and my career. Over the years, I invested well. My dad helped me find someone to handle my money and in my rookie year, I lived off what I called an allowance. I didn’t do anything extravagant. I made smart decisions and have continued to do so.
Peyton’s done the same. And the more she leans toward not returning to work, the more I want to stay home with her. Or find something else to do because she may maim me if I’m in her space all day.
I flip the channel to something else and sink further into the couch. The anxiety creeps in as my mind replays the words the sports analyst said about me. Washed up. Already past his prime. Could’ve been special. The last one hurts the most. How was I not special? What was I supposed to do? I took my team to the playoffs every year and won the championship. Football is a team sport, not a me sport. I can’t do it all.
The doorbell rings, saving me from flipping back to the sports coverage. Before I can make it to the door, the bell chimes again and I groan. “Wh—” I say as I open it but stop. “Why’d you knock?” I ask Quinn as I step aside.
“I wasn’t sure you were home.”
“Ah, the car’s in the garage. Peyton’s been getting deliveries, and I didn’t want to worry about someone coming down that incline and smacking into it. What’s up?”
“Not much. I was in the area.”
He’s lying. We live out of the way from where he lives, works, and plays. But, if he says he was in the area, who am I to say otherwise.
“Want something to drink?”
He nods and follows me into the kitchen and heads right to the refrigerator. I don’t care if Quinn helps himself. Sometimes he can be really introverted and it’s like taking a bone from a dog to get him to open up.
“Where’s Peyton?”
“She took Stevie Nicks to the park with your mom and Ollie.”
Quinn grabs a bottle of soda and sits down at the island. I stand on the other side, waiting to see if he’s going to open up or if we’re just going to hang. I’m honestly good with either.
“I think I might miss the births of my nieces or nephews.” He sounds distraught. I didn’t think this would be something that mattered to him.
“Oh?”
He nods. “The tour. It’s going to be for six months, I think. And it’s going to start in September.”