Page 32

Xavier

Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

The barbell clatters to the mat with a force that reverberates through the empty weight room, but it's nothing compared to the frantic energy inside me. My hands flex and release before I pick it up again, the ache in my grip almost soothing because it's easy--uncomplicated. I grit my teeth, straining through the last rep of my deadlift.

Dom leans against a bench nearby, wiping sweat from his face with a towel. "What's got you in such a hurry?" he asks, before tipping his head back to squirt some water into his mouth.

I don't answer right away, rolling my shoulders to work out the tension. The state-of-the-art weight room at the Bandits' stadium is empty save for the two of us. Most of the guys went straight home after we got back from our road trip this morning, desperate for downtime in the chaos leading up to the All-Star Break.

I stayed behind to get in my workout now, so when I get home, I can spend my time with Holland before our game tonight. I'm shocked that Dom stuck around with Indie waiting for him, but I think he can sense the bone-deep restlessness I can't shake. Everyone gets antsy during this part of the season, but for me, this year seems worse.

I need the grind of the training because everything in my personal life is about to implode. An update from my lawyer this morning when we got off the plane is merely the tip of the iceberg.

They found Kristy, and she seems to be moving on with life in Florida--getting on without a care in the world and I'm more frustrated than ever. I want Kristy to do what's right for her, because what's right for her is best for my daughter. But disappearing without a word for nearly three months is cruel.

I doubt she'll even show up to the hearing in a few weeks. Serving her the summons should have been a relief. Instead, I find myself needing to work off the foul mood that's been plaguing me since Collin called before going home.

"Just a lot on my mind," I say, not wanting to get into it with Dom, because it's not only the shit with Kristy that's wearing on me.

I grind out another set of deadlifts as Dom leans on the rack next to me, taking a long drink from his water.

Another week slipped away without seeing my girls. I'm used to feeling that way with my daughter, but this time the loneliness seemed to double. I can handle the brutal schedule, the exhaustion from travel, and being a single dad. But there's a sense of doom looming over me because of how missing Vivienne is making me feel. I'm headed for trouble with these rules we set, but I'm too out of control with her to stop it.

It's no longer about just giving her orgasms because no one else ever has. It's about feeding the emotional connection she's starved herself of so she can heal.

The nights we talk for hours while I'm on the road barely touch the way I want her. Even when she lets me get her off over video before we hang up and I come into my hand, I'm left unsatisfied. I don't think it's enough anymore. I want her in my bed, in my life, and in my daughter's life too. What I need is to inject her straight into my veins so I can take her everywhere with me.

My teammate smiles like he knows my secret. "Maybe you'd feel better if you faced what's got you ready to snap instead of trying to avoid it."

"Maybe," I admit, tossing my towel over my shoulder and following him to the door. Or maybe not because telling Vivi how deeply this arrangement is affecting me could backfire. I'm trying to take it slow with her, cross things off her list one at a time--build the connection she seems to need to let herself feel . Showing that level of restraint gets harder every day.

Sensing the need for something to take my mind off it Dom fills the walk with questions about the starting pitcher we're facing tonight, and I fire back stats until we walk into the locker room. It's empty aside from the singular voice coming from Murphy's office.

I'm about to pull my shirt over my head and head to the showers when Murphy pops his head out of the door. "Kinglsey, good, you're still here. Can I have a second of your time?"

I groan internally. He might have asked, but no isn't an option.

"Of course, coach." I follow him into the office, dropping into the chair across from his desk as he takes a seat.

"How can I help you today?" My knee bounces below the edge of the desk, the restlessness returning when I think of everything I have waiting for me when I walk out these doors.

"This is more about how I can help you. You've had a lot of change this year. I know the start of the season was . . . trying, but you seemed to have settled in nicely. Is there anything else you need from the organization in the second half of the season to help you stay focused?"

"No, sir. I appreciate the flexibility I was given when Holland was born, but we've got a routine going now, and it's working well."

"What's the plan when your nanny goes back to school in a month?"

I blink back my surprise at how much he knows about my situation and at how fast the summer has gone. "She'll stay on part-time, helping as much as she can between classes. I'm lucky to have really great friends in my teammates and their significant others. They're going to help with the last few weeks of the season."

"We're making the postseason this year. Are you prepared for the extra work that comes along with it?"

"Yes, sir."

With that, he stands from his desk, holding the door for me to exit in front of him. His message is clear: get the hell out. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to get out of here and enjoy a few hours at home." Like his invitation to talk did, this feels like an order.

And thank fuck he doesn't stick around for a long goodbye.

Dom is fresh from the shower with his bag slung over his shoulder and on his way out as well. "Everything good?" Dom asks, stopping and holding the door Murphy disappeared through with a gruff grunt goodbye.

"Yeah, it was nothing. Just checking in on how I'm doing," I tell him, finally stripping my shirt off.

"You told him you were nominated for Dad of the Year, right?"

I push my shorts down my hips and grab my towel. "A title I'm going to lose if I don't get home to my daughter soon."

"Not a chance." He gives me a nod and lets me get to it as he disappears into the hallway.

Barring any more interruptions, I might actually get home before I have to turn around and come back for our game tonight. "Jesus, I need this fucking break," I say aloud, but the only response is the echo of my own words off the tile walls of the empty locker room.

It's quieter than I've ever heard it, I think, and then crank the shower handle, letting the water warm up.