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It seems like everyone made it back for this weekend. I’ve been making the rounds, catching up with people I haven’t seen in months, and it’s been refreshing.

It’s the last weekend to raise hell before the voluntary veteran minicamp, which most of us will be attending anyway. What better place to raise hell than back in Vegas with your brothers?

I’m in the pool with Austin and Travis, and I glance around at the party happening all around me. Loud music comes from the deejay booth, but Ben tells us some local bands are coming by a little later. Some workers from the hotel are setting up a lunch buffet, and I’m currently working on pacing myself so I’m not drunk all day. There’s a long way to go from now until midnight, when the party will pause for ten or so hours of sleep before resuming again tomorrow.

Ben Olson walks around in his flamingo swim trunks, the life of every party as he greets guests with a solo cup filled with beer permanently affixed to his palm. His girl comes and goes, and their twins are up in a suite with her mom and his dad when she’s able to escape down for a while. He hangs with Cooper Noah, a retired baseball player, and he introduces me as his buddy. From what I gather, Cooper and Ben’s wife work together, and they’ve gotten close.

Jack Dalton’s here, too, in one of the cabanas as he sips whiskey. His wife, Kate, lies on a lounge chair like she hasn’t had a second of peace in a while. She probably hasn’t between her newborn and her stepson, JJ, plus the start of her career as she dives headfirst into owning her own interior design firm.

Ellie lies on the chair beside Kate. The table between them has two half-drunk margaritas on it, and both appear to be sleeping. They just came down an hour or so ago, and Luke told me their kids are all playing together in another suite with Elizabeth, their nanny. Another table with another partial margarita sits on Ellie’s other side, and where Josh Nolan’s wife Nicki is asleep on the lounge chair on the other side of it.

Luke pops in and out of his brother’s cabana, but mostly he’s in business mode as he talks with his clients and drums up more business for his agency and, in turn, his wife. Those two are quite the team, and I’m honored to be friends with them.

I can’t wait for Tessa to start her job with Ellie, too. She’s going to love it.

I can’t believe how it’s all working out.

I wish I could call her, or at least text her, but this morning when I left the room, I decided to leave my phone. I can’t use it in the water, and I didn’t particularly want to have to track it all day. We talked last night, and we’ll talk again tonight, and soon I’ll be back home so life can resume right where we left off.

I glance around and spot Brandon Fletcher, who was our star quarterback before we acquired Jack Dalton and is now relegated to the back-up QB. He’s chatting up some ladies with a group of my buddies including Jaxon and Damon.

Cory and Patrick are by the bar with Deon Miller and a couple defenders, Richard Garrett and Dave Redmayne, are behind them with their wives. I see Cason, the other final wide receiver on the Aces roster, talking with a couple guys from the practice squad—Andrew Miles, Jonathan Winters, Sean Banks.

I can’t help but wonder whether all six of the wide receivers from last year will play a full season together again this year. It’s rare for every rostered player in a position to return year after year, but those men—Travis Woods, Cory Marshall, Damon Green, Cason Swanson, and Josh Nolan—are like family to me, and I can’t imagine an Aces season where all six of us aren’t training, practicing, and playing together.

There’s been enough chaos, upheaval, and change in my life. I’m ready for the next phase where I can focus on the three big Fs: family, football, and the future…and where I can start making dad jokes, obviously.

I get out of the water and head to the bar for another beer when Cory walks over with his phone. “I need to show you something,” he says. He clicks open JustFans, a subscription app where creators can sell original content…also known as the latest and greatest way to see hot girls naked.

I roll my eyes. “Dude, I’ve got a girl. I don’t need your porn site to see titties.”

I expect him to laugh, too, but his brows are furrowed together as he pulls something up on the app. He hands me his phone, and ice seems to grip onto my chest as I look at what he’s showing me.

Tessa Taylor, age 25, Chicago, Illinois. Engaged to NFL wide receiver.

And above the short bio is her picture.

Her picture.

My Tessa.

“Dude, isn’t that your girl?” Cory asks somewhere in my periphery.

I click on the content tab and find some video hooks. I click the first one, and I spot a woman’s figure shown from the neck down. Her head is off the screen, but her tits sure aren’t. She’s naked, and she’s dancing—if you can call it that. It’s gyrating, really, and she’s not subtle.

But she’s also not Tessa.

The video clip ends and a big bar comes across the screen asking me to pay just nineteen-ninety-nine for another five minutes of this shit.

I blow out a breath.

Someone’s impersonating Tessa on what’s essentially a pornographic website, and I’m going to figure out who…and why.

I hand Cory his phone and bust my ass upstairs to get my phone.

I see the last text she sent.

Tessa: I’m sure you’re busy with all the gorgeous women of Vegas so I won’t bother booking a flight out to surprise you.

What the fuck?

I don’t bother texting back, opting instead to call.

But the call goes directly to voicemail.

Maybe she had to turn her phone off because she booked a ticket to come see me after all.

That’s my hope, anyway.

“Hey,” I say. “I need to talk to you. Where are you? I’m so glad you’re cleared to travel. Yes, come out here. Or I’ll come back there. I need to see you. Call me back.”

I hang up and realize my mistake immediately. I gave her two options on the call—she could come here, or I could go there, and now I’m stuck waiting here to see if she chose the first option.

Fuck it. I slide my phone into my swim trunks. I’m not missing her again.