Page 75 of The Backup Plan

We fall quiet, both lost in our thoughts. “You still talk to Sharon?” he asks, referring to Manring’s wife.

“Yeah. I’m on the first of the month.”

“I’m the tenth and Fraber calls her on the twentieth.” He shrugs, but we both know how hard those phone calls are, checking in on Manring’s wife and kids because he isn’t always there for them. Trying to be good teammates because . . . because we’re family.

“Good. Cool. He’ll come around at some point,” I say. It’s way easier to make an excuse for our friend and to think this is temporary despite it having been years.

“Yeah. I’m sure he will,” he murmurs.

But as the night wears on and we part ways, what Derrick said weighs on my mind.

“It scares you, doesn’t it? It did me too, man, but you can be fulfilled off the field. I mean, Kristen had to help me with that at first, but maybe it’s time to think about what comes next for you too?”

What comes next?

Derrick’s not wrong. It’s something I need to figure out—just as soon as I get over the fear that paralyzed me from thinking about it thus far.

Who am I outside of football?

Emery

I go out with people from the team because I tell myself I should.

Because normal looks like laughing too loud over a carafe of wine and pretending I’m not watching the door every time it opens.

Because this is what starting over is supposed to look like—new city, new job, new people who don’t know the version of me that Jared knew.

I sit at the high-top with two trainers and one of the marketing girls, nodding along to stories about travel delays and equipment mishaps, and learning snippets of gossip about co-workers that I never asked to know but now won’t be able to forget.

Is it weird that I keep glancing at the door like I expect Lucas to walk in and join us?

And that is why I’m here right now. Because I’m relying too much on wanting to see one person when there’s a whole world of new people for me to meet and want to hang out with.

Yet when the door opens again, I look toward it and deflate a little when my ridiculous brain realizes he’s not there.

Or maybe it’s just because I feel bad after the other day . . . when Nixon was on my table and how hard-headed I was.

We haven’t talked since then, which is my doing. He’s clearly respecting the boundaries I set.

Like how he didn’t show up for our run this morning.

You asked for it, Em. He respected it. Can’t get mad at him for that.

“Right?” Mona asks, pulling me from my thoughts. She’s chuckling so I do the same.

“Right. Of course,” I say.

“Coach is cool but just wait until we lose a game and then we ‘clear the halls’ when he walks through,” Jerry says.

“No shit,” Kelly adds. “But it’s more an internal temper rather than a thundering one.”

“Noted,” I say. “I’ll steer clear.”

“Excuse me,” a voice to my right says.

I startle and scoot my chair over. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to crowd your seat,” I say.

“No, that’s not it. You’re fine,” he says, a little flustered as I look over to him. “I wanted to know if I could buy you a drink.”