Page 11 of Running
“Fine,” Aiden agrees. They walk to a nearby table and review all the papers Johnson needs to sign. I watch as he puts his pen to at least five different documents.
One of the girls suddenly speaks to me. “You’re so pretty. Who are you?”
I’ve done my makeup the way my mom likes, a little heavier than my preferred lip gloss and swipe of mascara. Complying with her training to never leave the house “without my face on.”
“Oh, I’m nobody,” I say, batting my hand at them dismissively.
Johnson’s head snaps up at my words, and he looks at me for a beat before bending down again to deal with the papers.
Once they’re done, Aiden steps away and looks to his nieces. “C’mon kiddos, let’s go to the theme parks now.”
Johnson walks them out, disappearing down the hallway towards the front of his house, which seems like it’s about a mile away.
I glance around the expansive space. Next to the kitchen is a huge lounge area—basically an extra-large TV room. Massive gray couches, four enormous mounted TVs, and a minibar area fill out the room. I suspect this is where Landon watches games when he comes over to hang out with Johnson.
On one hutch I notice a bunch of framed photos. Stepping closer, I see that almost all seem to be of his family. An older woman and a thirty-ish year old woman, I presume his mom and his sister, are in many of them, and one appears to be his sister’s wedding picture. A few include a little girl.
The image that catches my eye the most is set out in front. It’s a big, burly Johnson, beard and all, holding a tiny baby in his arms. Looking down at the infant like they’re the most precious thing in the world. It must be his new nephew.
In February when Johnson left town, Landon shared the backstory of what he was doing for his sister and mom, but I hadn’t really let it sink in, too lost in my own knee-jerk relief that Johnson wouldn’t be around for a while.
Now, faced with these pictures, I actually absorb why he’s been gone. I can’t lie to myself—anyone who would sacrifice months of his time to help his family must have a kind, loving side to him.
Not that I should be surprised. Landon’s not much different. He’s a rock for me and our brothers, but until Rori, it felt like he flew through women one night at a time. If I’d only known that side, I’d probably think much less of him. I should have expected that there’s more to Johnson than his public persona too.
“Where were we?” Johnson asks as he walks back in. “Do you still want something to drink?”
I take him in with new eyes.
For certain, I can’t pretend anymore that he’s just a one-dimensional, selfish playboy.
“Yeah, sparkling water sounds good. And then let’s go see how the guys are doing outside?”
“Whatever you want, Little Battle.”
There’s the old nickname he gave me. The one I haven’t heard in over two years.
I let it go without comment and we make our way back outside.
Rawley and Bailey’s chatty natures ensure they fill the conversational space during the remaining hours we’re there. Eventually the sun gets to the guys and they decide to stop playing. I’ve been alternating between watching and reading my kindle in a lawn chair on the side of the yard.
“Grace, let’s go, I’m starving,” Rawley says as they break things up.
“Yes, I’m out too.” Bailey walks over, grabbing his water.
Johnson chucks the football he’s been throwing to them so that it rests against the side of his back door and turns to Rawley.
“You’re welcome here anytime. I think Bailey is coming over again on Monday afternoon. Get in a little extra practice time before training camp begins.”
Rawley’s shoulders slump slightly. “I’d love to, but I fly back tomorrow. I have a national wide receivers camp before our official practices start, so I’m not sure if I’ll be in Orlando again soon.”
“The Brennan Wide Receivers Camp? You got an invite?” Bailey asks, and Rawley perks back up, nodding. “Nice. I did too, during college. Say hi to Coach Brennan for me.”
Johnson and I look at each other. An amused expression is in his eyes—like he realizes we’ll never get a word in edgewise around these two.
I’m happy for Rawley. This is the environment he needs. Being around pros, seeing what it takes to get to the NFL, making connections.
“Thanks again for having us,” I say to Johnson. And I mean it.
