Page 6

Chapter

Three

W est stood in his Dallas high-rise two weeks after his retirement announcement, looking out the penthouse window at the spectacular view of the city’s skyline.

It was what had convinced him to buy the unit in this particular building.

It had been a bit of a drive to get to the team’s practice field daily, but he usually had gone in at odd hours, so traffic hadn’t been too bad.

He’d also liked having some distance between himself and the other players, as well as being closer to the nightlife and unique restaurants.

While he loved the guys on his team, even as a rookie, he knew for his mental well-being, he needed a break from them.

Yes, he had been the guy who was always first at a team meeting and last off the field, with many hours of watching film.

During the season, it was impossible to do anything but live and breathe football.

Off-season was a different matter. He’d kept in good physical shape, thanks to hiring a personal trainer, but his diet wasn’t as strict.

West liked to travel and had hit the road once the season ended, usually by himself.

He’d been to Tokyo. Prague. London. Barcelona.

Dubai. Now that he’d officially retired, he still wanted to travel, especially more throughout the United States.

Mostly, though, he wanted someone to do it with.

He had been friendly with everyone on the team, especially the other receivers and his quarterback, but he wouldn’t call any of his teammates close friends.

He hadn’t done a good job of keeping in touch with Chance Blackstone, his best friend since kindergarten.

They texted occasionally, but West was ready to have Chance back in his life.

Probably Jace Tanner, his sports agent and fellow Aggie, was the closest thing West had to a friend these days, which was pretty sad.

Not because Jace wasn’t a great guy. He was.

Essentially, he worked for West, though.

And Jace was consumed by his business. He had worked hard, creating one of the premier sports talent agencies in the country at a young age.

West felt glad he’d been with Jace for so long.

He turned, glancing about the condo, doubting he’d keep it. Living in Dallas wasn’t for him anymore. He was tired of the glitz and glam. It was important to him to get back to his roots, back to life in a small town. Hopefully, life as a coach in his hometown.

A knock sounded on his door, and he crossed the wide living room to answer it.

“Hey, Mr. S,” Scotty said, entering the condo.

His doorman had to be one of the happiest people West had ever met. Scotty never seemed to be in a bad mood. He decided to ask him about it now.

“Why are you always happy? I don’t think I’ve ever caught you in a bad mood. You have an eternal smile on your face.”

Scotty shrugged. “I didn’t have a lot growing up.

I was on the free breakfast and lunch program.

My mom worked three jobs just to keep the electricity on and make sure I had something to wear.

But she told me I could dream as big as I wanted and go places through books.

She got me a library card when I was eight, and I was off on all kinds of adventures.

History became my thing, and Lincoln is the one figure that captured my imagination the most. I can quote you all kinds of things that great man said, but the one which always stuck with me most?

“Most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be.” Scotty paused.

“Just think about that a minute. We choose to be happy or unhappy. Unhappy takes a lot of energy. It drags you down. You wallow in misery. But happy? That’s an energy booster.

You’re light on your feet and have a smile on your face.

You feel good—and you want to make others feel good, too.

Being a doorman is a people job, Mr. S. I make a conscious choice every day to be happy and spread that happiness to the lives I touch that day. ”

The simple philosophy blew West away. “You are a wise man, Scotty. I think I’ll take a page out of your playbook and run with it.” He looked around. “Let me show you what needs to be moved.”

He’d bought a ton of boxes at a storage facility, packing up his clothes, books, and the trophies and memorabilia associated with his playing days.

The furniture and everything else would stay behind.

If he were ever in Dallas overnight, he would simply stay at a hotel.

No sense in letting this view go to waste.

It was meant for someone else. West was at a different stage of his life now.

Selling would give him a nice nest egg for the future.

Especially if he landed a coaching job. His annual salary would be a pittance of what he’d earned in a single game playing professionally.

“Okay, Mr. S. My cousin and I will bring everything downstairs and put it in the small cargo trailer you rented.”

West removed a key from his key ring and handed it over. “I’ll text you the address. This is the key to the front door.”

Scotty looked dubious. “You sure you want to move to the boonies, Mr. S? I follow you on Insta.”

He laughed. “I’ve been a city slicker for too long. Time to get back to who I am underneath the fancy Italian suits and shoes.”

It hadn’t been a hard decision to leave Dallas for Hawthorne.

He wanted to be closer to his parents. His cousin Sawyer was also at a crossroads in his life.

He, too, was moving from Dallas to Hawthorne.

They would be sharing a three-bedroom, furnished rental for now, one his mom had found and leased for them.

He liked Sawyer, who was two years older, and had called him on a whim the day after he’d retired.

When he learned his cousin had decided to leave the district attorney’s office to open a practice in Hawthorne, rooming together while they both figured out a more permanent living arrangement had seemed a natural fit.

“Should we do any unpacking for you when we get there?” Scotty asked.

“Nope. Any boxes marked clothes go in the primary bedroom. The others can go on the kitchen table and around it. My cousin may or may not be there. Sawyer Montgomery. If he’s there, he’ll give you a hand. He’s already moved in.”

Scotty nodded. “Okay, Mr. S. Where should I leave the key?”

“On the kitchen counter is fine. Or give it to Sawyer if he’s there.”

“If he’s not, where should I leave the key after I lock up?”

West laughed. “You don’t. It’s a small town, Scotty. Even being gone as long as I have, I’ll still feel as if I know most everybody there. Kitchen counter will be fine. Let me text you the address now.”

Scotty got the text and then told West he would return the trailer once they returned to Dallas.

He picked up an envelope on the end table. “Here. For today. I already prepaid the rental. You can split it with your cousin however you’d like.”

The doorman slipped it into his pocket. “Thanks for the gig, Mr. S. Glad we could work it out so you moved on my day off.”

Thrusting out a hand, he said, “I’m going to miss you, Scotty.”

They shook, with Scotty asking, “You aren’t coming back? Ever?”

“No. I’m going to sell the place. My life is changing, and so is my address.”

West left, going to the parking garage and claiming his Jaguar convertible.

The two-seater wouldn’t be practical anymore.

He decided to trade it in for a truck, probably a Ford F-150, affectionately known as the state vehicle of Texas because so many Texans drove it.

Not only was the Jag too flashy for Hawthorne, but a truck would be more practical.

Buckling his seat belt, he left the Turtle Creek area and headed downtown to the offices of TTM, Touchdown Talent Management.

Once inside, he was greeted by Elena Arturo, Jace’s administrative assistant, a woman in her mid-thirties, with dark brown hair and eyes. She kept Jace on his toes, and even West found himself standing a little taller around Elena.

“Good morning, West. It’s good to see you. You’re my favorite MVP of any Super Bowl.”

“Co-MVP,” he corrected. “Van Foster wouldn’t like getting shorted.”

He followed her to Jace’s office, where she tapped lightly and opened the door.

“Go ahead. He’s on a call, but you’ll be his excuse to get off it.”

West took a seat on the plush sofa as Jace waved at him.

“Yes. It’s a done deal,” he assured the caller.

“I told you to count on TTM. Listen, I’ve got to head to a meeting.

West Sutherland just arrived. Yes, I’ll tell him.

I’ll message the contract to you now. All you have to do is sign and date it.

Return it to the messenger, and then sit back and count your money. ”

The agent hung up. “Hey, West.” He tapped a couple of numbers on his phone. “Elena, send the contract. And have whoever goes wait for the sig and head straight back. We’re good to go. When will lunch be here? Okay.”

Placing the phone in its cradle, Jace came toward him, offering his hand. “I should punch you in the face instead of shaking your hand.”

“I knew the announcement took you off-guard. Sorry about that. I should’ve shared with you beforehand, but it really was a game day decision.”

“No, you do what’s right for you,” Jace said, taking a seat. “I’ve told you that ever since you became our client. TTM has always done what’s best for you. If you think now is the time to retire, then now is right. You’re in perfect health.”

He laughed. “I’ll only admit to you that the knees are a little creaky in the morning, getting out of bed.”

“Overall, you’ve been blessed not to have the kind of injury that could end your career. You’re going out on your own terms.” Jace paused. “I’m wondering if you’re ready to cut ties today with TTM or if you’ll let me pitch to you what’s next.”