My smile grows wider. “My mom was like that. She’s a nurse, as I told you, and my sister always wanted to go into medicine. I was more of the sporty, outgoing one. But my mom encouraged and supported both of us, and I never felt like my sister was more important because her profession was more closely aligned with my mother’s,” I say, successfully avoiding the topic of my father. I don’t want to talk about his influence on my life. I’m keenly aware that Holden has spent more time with him in the last three days than I have in three years. But sports were always mine. And my mom supported me in them just as much as my father did.
“We’re lucky in some ways,” Holden says, and I love, too, that he hasn’t said a word about my dad either.
We have so much else we can talk about.
We chat more about his family, and I share more about my mom and sister and grandparents.
We finish our drinks, return the mugs to the coffee shop, and head outside, staring at the water as the waves go out choppily and a ferry glides in, its horn bleating as it nears the dock.
My ideas for him take shape. “I have a plan for you. An approach that I think might help.”
He waggles his fingers, beckoning me to serve it up. “Hit me up, Reese.”
I take a deep breath. “It’s all a matter of how you frame your answers and how you approach talking to the media.”
Considering what he just shared about himself, I’m convinced this strategy will help him.
“Keep going.”
“Think of it like this—what part of yourself are you giving to the press?” I gesture to him, my hand dangerously near his chest. That broad, firm chest that I love running my hands up and down. “Here’s this man, Holden Kingsley, and he’s a lot of things, right?”
“That’s the goal.”
“You’re a great athlete. You’re a good teammate. You’re focused and disciplined. You’re a good friend. You’re an upstanding guy,” I say, as I list his attributes.
His lips curve into a delicious smile, almost an embarrassed one.
“And you’re also a guy who doesn’t want to see yourself as lying to the press.”
“All of that is true.”
“So, what you need to do is reframe how you think about it. Don’t think of it as lying when you give them an answer about how you’re nobody’s savior. That’s true, and believing that helps you remember winning isn’t about one man. So rather than say, ‘I’m nobody’s savior,’ reframe your response as ‘I just want to help the team.’”
He nods, like he’s absorbing this. “Sure. Makes sense.”
“And when you answer their questions, remember you’re only giving a piece of you. You’re giving one truthful portion of yourself. You don’t have to show them all your cards. Even if you’re saying things that might feel empty to you, you’re still speaking your truth. Because it’s true that you want what’s best for the team,” I say, never wavering, because I believe this. I truly believe we can and maybe even need to only share parts of ourselves. I don’t serve up my family story to everyone I meet. I’m still honest with Holden even if I don’t tell him how I feel about his manager, so I lean on that philosophy now. “It is true that every game is a good game in its own way. It is true that you play your heart out, and you leave it on the field, and you respect your opponents, right?”
He nods vigorously, his green eyes intense, honest. “Absolutely. I completely do.”
“You don’t have to cringe and feel like you’re lying. Because those are honest answers. You can’t control if someone lies or makes up facts. You have to let that go. But you can control what you show them. You can let them only see the part of you that truly does want to help the team. Give them the part of you that believes you take each game as it comes. Because you do believe that, right?”
“Absolutely. I have a plan for every game. Every day.” He grins and gestures with his arms wide as he shares his routine. “I do my four-mile run every morning. Work out. Play my brain games—word searches and word jumbles,” he says, and that is, yet again, adorable. Holden and his word games.
A grin tugs at my lips as I soldier on. “Then talk about your plan for each game. How you approach each opponent. And when they ask you a question, like ‘How do you feel about your chances this season?’ you say something along the lines of ‘I’ve got a plan for every game, and I’m just grateful to get on the field and see if it’ll play out.’”