Page 55 of The Linebacker

And they were all hungry for a repeat Super Bowl appearance. It would be Amil’s first.

He really wanted that Super Bowl appearance.

Dante stepped up to his right as they strode through the art gallery. Amil heard Pedro behind him, pointing out Emma’s photograph to Callahan, who whistled and muttered, “Damn, she’s talented.”

“She makes our kicker look good in pictures, so, yeah, she sure is,” Pedro snarked.

Callahan snorted. “The real challenge is to make me not look good.”

In the visiting team locker room, they changed into practice gear and continued to talk shit. It was all good-natured. No one was out to get anyone here. They genuinely liked each other as humans as well as teammates.

This was it. He’d found his family. He didn’t need to wait until tomorrow on the field to solidify that.

He wished he could tell Diana, but he knew better. If he texted her, someone—probably Jillian—would see it, and then she’d be forced to lie or tell the truth, and frankly, neither option was good.

Not until after tomorrow’s game.

So he kept his little revelation to himself.

Or so he intended.

“What’s it like?” Broderick demanded, hooking his arm around Amil’s neck and pulling him into an aggressive bro hug. “Being back here. Are you sad? Happy? Both? What are you feeling, man?”

Amil twisted out of Broderick’s hold and said, “How does your wife put up with you?”

Broderick laughed, a booming, sincere laugh only Broderick could achieve. “Daddy knows how to keep his woman happy.”

“At least we know there won’t be another baby in nine months,” Pedro commented. “Since you have to sleep in separate hotel rooms tonight.”

“That’s what you think.” Broderick gave an exaggerated wink, and Amil couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made arrangements for Kate to sleep in his hotel room.

Could Amil do the same?

No. Bad idea. The last thing he and Diana needed was to be outed before tomorrow’s game.

They headed out to practice, a light one, no pads. Not taking chances that someone would get hurt the day before the game.

When Coach called it good, they tromped into the stadium, hit the showers. Piled onto the bus and made their way to the hotel. They had thirty minutes to check into their rooms, do whatever they needed to do, and then they were to report back to the lobby to pile onto the bus again and head out to dinner at a local restaurant Amil had chosen. Well, at least, one of the members of the admin staff had asked him a few days ago for recommendations.

He paced his hotel room in an attempt to keep himself from texting Diana. It was a terrible idea and he damn well knew it. But he’d grown used to being around her, talking to her about, well, everything.

Shit, the idea of sleeping alone tonight was freaking anxiety-inducing.

It was crazy, this need to be with her, to be a part of her life.

At dinner, he watched Dante send a text then grin at the response.

“Are they having fun?” Amile asked, hopefully casually.

Dante laughed. “They’re at some club playing songs from the 1970s and ’80s, and look what they’re wearing.”

He turned his phone around so Amil could see a picture of Jillian, Allison, Diana, Emma, and Kate holding drinks and grinning at the screen. “Where the hell did they get these outfits?” Amil asked.

They all had teased hair and were dressed in neon everything, from wide stretchy headbands to some sort of netting over what looked like sports bras to micro miniskirts and leggings and—he finally laughed—leg warmers. Oh, and don’t forget those blindingly white tennis shoes they were all sporting.

Dante handed the phone to Pedro. “I’ll bet it was Jillian’s idea. Or if it was someone else’s idea, she’s the one who executed it.”

Pedro nodded while laughing. “Yep. This has my wife’s signature all over it.”