I can hardly hear her when I finally get the chance to call.

“Hey!” she shouts. She sounds…happy. Or drunk.

“Hey. What’s going on?”

“I’m at the bar with Mandy!” She’s yelling, and I’m subdued as I sit on a bench on a path not far from the lodge where our rooms are located just before curfew. I hold the phone away from my ear a little as I try to push down that little feeling of annoyance creeping up.

The truth is I’m actually some step beyond subdued. I’m fucking beat, and I’m not really in the mood to scream over bar noise to be heard.

It’s better this way. If I stay on the line, I’m likely to say something I’ll only regret.

I blow out a breath. “Sounds fun. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“No, wait!” I hear some shuffling, and then it gets a little quieter, like maybe she stepped outside. “I don’t want to miss my chance to say hi. So hi.”

“Hi.”

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and she sounds alarmed. Or drunk.

“It was a rough day,” I admit. I’ll spend my morning in the training room getting a massage. I’d get in line for cryotherapy in the morning, but my guess is the line will be lengthy after today’s brutal practices.

Prove yourself.

Prove you deserve to be here.

Prove you deserve to start.

It’s the same shit on everyone’s mind, but there are only eleven men on the field at once. The roster holds fifty-three names, so that means forty-two are standing on the sidelines.

These two weeks plus the couple weeks that follow once we’re back home in Vegas are the only chance we have to show that we deserve to be one of the elite eleven.

I busted my ass today proving it. I outran Josh Nolan. I outscored Tristan Higgins. I outplayed Cory Marshall. I got my ass laid out during scrimmage by Patrick Harris, the cornerback assigned to guard me, and as much as I love the guy…right now I could punch him.

He’s probably aching and feeling the same way.

We all have our strengths, and I’m trying to be everything everywhere at all times. It’s already catching up with me. I want to find myself getting stronger, but instead I’m feeling every single bit of the year older I am since last season started.

Maybe it’s fatherhood. Maybe it’s husband-hood. Maybe it’s all these fucking distractions I just don’t need and can’t afford…but here they are, and I don’t have a choice but to fucking focus.

I also don’t need to unload all that shit on Victoria. Especially not when she’s out having a good time with a friend she can commiserate with. She’s going through shit without me there, and I won’t make it any worse.

Jaxon’s having a rough go of it, too. It’s these fucking women…I know it. But as much as I want to blame her, I also love her. So goddamn much it hurts. And so it’s up to me to find that balance.

Maybe I should have a chat with Jaxon to see how he’s doing.

“Have you talked to Harper?” she asks.

“Yeah. I called her on her iPad over at Bella’s house. She’s having fun.” Without me.

Which is good. It’s fine. It’s how it should be.

But it also made me miss the hell out of her.

I didn’t even know the girl the first ten years of her life, but I still missed her even when I didn’t know her. And now that I do, that pain is fierce.

I’m not cut out for any of this shit. I don’t know how to deal with it or how to be away from these two. How to leave my heart in one place while the rest of my body is in a totally different state.

“Well, that’s good. Why was today rough?” she asks.

“I miss you. I miss Harper. I miss our home.” I swallow the lump of emotion that’s suddenly clogging my throat. Am I homesick? I haven’t felt homesick since my parents sent me away to boarding school. I steeled myself against it. I pushed the feelings down. I haven’t even felt a sense of home since…

Since Victoria moved in. Since Harper came into my life.

And now I’m missing them fiercely.

“But I don’t have any other choice than to go as hard as I fucking can, and now I’m paying for it.”

“Will you get any time to rest tomorrow?” she asks.

“Nah, there’s no resting here,” I mutter. “I’ll get worked on in the morning and I’ll be fine by afternoon.”

“What does that mean, get worked on?”

“I’ll meet with the trainer. Maybe do some cryotherapy if the line isn’t too long, but it likely will be because everybody here is in pain.”

“What’s cryotherapy? It sounds like where you all gather in a room together for a good cry.” She laughs at her own joke, but I don’t. I feel bad, but I guess I’m all business tonight.

“It’s cold therapy. We stand in a chamber filled with liquid nitrogen one at a time for a few minutes.”

“What does that do?” she asks.

“It treats pain. And if that’s full, I’ll get a massage in the morning, maybe do some cupping, and definitely pound some painkillers before I get back to it.”

“What’s cupping?” she asks, and it strikes me how very different we are. This is my career, and she doesn’t have a clue what goes on from day to day. I wonder if that’s true for most couples. I think of Ellie and Luke. They’re so in love with each other that she started a business that supports what he does, and he started a business to give her clients. It’s something incredible to see. And sure, I got that job for Victoria, but it was out of desperation to make it up to her.

“Basically you put cups on your skin and they suction on. It supposedly improves circulation, and it’s also good for pain relief and relaxation.”

“Sounds like the spa,” she jokes, and I give her a cursory chuckle even though laughing actually hurts my ribs right now.

“Well you have fun with Mandy, okay? I need to head up to bed.”

“Okay. Thanks for calling.”

“It’s nice to hear your voice. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I cut the call, and it’s only after I end it that I realize we didn’t exchange I love you s.

The fact leaves me feeling a little down as a sense of foreboding pulls at me.

But I push it away.

I have to.

It’s time to focus on what’s coming tomorrow.