Page 60 of The Linebacker

“Okay, maybe I need to get better at storytelling. I admit, I’m rusty. Because until Morgan and I got back together back in February, I hardly talked to anyone. Still didn’t let anyone in. Even my own teammates. I was definitely an outsider.”

“That’s not the vibe I got when I joined the team.”

“Yeah, because you just joined a few weeks ago, and now that my life is pretty much rainbows and unicorns, I actually let people in. Turns out, it’s a good thing. Makes your life even more warm and fuzzy, if you can believe it.”

“Are you trying to tell me I need to let people in?” This was a bizarre conversation, especially under the circumstances.

The bus stopped, the air brakes letting out a long gasp. Everybody jumped from their seats and lined up in the aisle.

“Morgan told me that Dante warned you away from Diana because of the walls she built around her heart,” Royce said, his gaze on the nearest player’s back.

Why was Amil not surprised that everyone knew everyone’s business on this team? Families talked.

A lot.

“And since you obviously did not listen to that advice, maybe you should consider letting down your walls.”

With those sage words, Royce hopped up, grabbed his backpack, and headed down the aisle toward the door.

Toward the stadium.

Toward the game.

Amil sat there for a long moment and tried to work out just what the hell Royce meant by his little tidbit of advice.

Letting down his walls was exactly what he did last night when Diana came to his room. He’d admitted everything to her. Well, almost. He hadn’t used the L word; he’d been just smart enough to shy away from that. She’d have run away even faster than a road runner if he had.

“You planning to play today or what?” the bus driver called out, making Amil realize he was the only person left on the bus.

He hurried off, speed-walked into the building, made his way to the visitor’s team’s locker room.

When they jogged onto the field to warm up before the game, they were greeted with boos from the fans.

Or maybe that was just him. They no doubt viewed him as a traitor for leaving.

The chirping started before the game.

Amil was on the sidelines, grabbing a drink from a water bottle, when a couple of guys from the 49ers defensive line walked by. Jalen was out on the field, catching passes tossed his way. Close enough to be within earshot.

Trey Smythe made a crack about Jalen not being able to hold onto his women. Another commented about how small his dick must be.

Someone else said he’d heard that Jalen’s woman was a fucking wildcat in the sack—but only with other guys.

Shit. Jalen was going to lose his cool and fast. Amil needed to intercede. Hell, this was all his fault anyway. It was his responsibility to fix it.

Trey whistled and nodded at the suites that had been reserved for Mountain Lions guests. “Which one is it? There are some fine ladies up there. Maybe I can get a shot next.”

“Shut the fuck up, Trey,” Amil snapped.

Trey stopped walking and turned to Amil. “Why? Aren’t you the poster boy for game day chatter?”

He had been. He’d thought he was doing whatever necessary to get to the Super Bowl.

Now that he’d found his team, the one he truly belonged with, he realized something: the way to the Super Bowl was not through attacking another guy’s mental health status.

It was through grit. Teamwork. Making the right decisions out there on the field.

Trey spread his arms wide and grinned, although the smile held zero warmth. Amil was officially the enemy here. “I learned from the best.”