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He laughs. “Dude, I just retired so I could spend more time with my girls. I can’t put in the hours I did when I was a player, but get me one of those deals like Luke has and I’ll think about it.”
“You’re open to working as a team consultant?” I press, hoping that I can hook him in with a consulting gig that turns to a permanent position down the line.
He nods. “I’m down for showing up to practices a few days a week. I’d be happy to help draft up new plays. But I can’t commit to the team schedule. I need a year to figure out what my life is going to look like now that I’m not on my football routine.”
“I get that, and I appreciate your honesty. I’ll talk with Jack and we’ll draft up a consulting contract.”
He nods and takes another sip of his drink, and he makes a face. “Seriously, this is trash. Okay, Coach. Thanks for the chat.” He heads out, leaving me to my work, and I finally get a minute to decompress after what Jolene shared with me.
I manage to avoid her for the next week, and suddenly we’re at the first official day of the new season. Since I’ve already been working here nearly a month, the day comes and goes with business as usual. I set the final schedule for our voluntary minicamp early next week with Jack and Steve, and we finalize plans for the draft which takes place at the end of next week.
It’ll be the busiest week since I started here, and it’ll be my debut as head coach. Most of the players will come in for the voluntary minicamp if nothing else to get a look at what the team is going to look like without so many veteran players along with the new additions we’ve made this off-season.
Including Asher Nash, my little brother, who I’m calling now with the good news.
“What?” he answers.
“Welcome to the Aces,” I say dryly. “I’m excited to have you and see what you can do for us.”
“Thanks, Coach.” I can hear the laughter in his voice. “I’m excited, too.”
“We can discuss your role once you get here, and you’re welcome to stay with me if you need a place.”
“I appreciate that, bruh, but I’m gonna pass. Can’t allow all my new teammates to think you’re favoring your little brother.” He makes a good point.
“Let me know if you need help getting here. Otherwise, I’ll see you for minicamp next week.”
“I’m good. See ya, Coach,” he says, and he cuts the call.
That’s Asher for you. Unpredictable except when it comes to making great plays on the field.
There’s a knock on my office door, and I turn my attention in that direction and find my secretary standing there holding onto a package.
“What’s that?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Just arrived for you. It has a Melissa Nash as the return address.”
She hands it to me, and I rip it open to find a framed photo from the anniversary weekend. It’s got all six of us—my parents and my four brothers—and we’re all smiling and happy in it despite the secrets we were all keeping.
My lips lift a bit at it as the memories of the nice weekend we had together wash over me. It felt like things were simpler only a few days ago. I blow out a breath and set the photo on my credenza. I’m certain my mother sent it here rather than to my home with intention—she wanted a piece of the family in my office, and who am I to let her down?
“Thanks, Meg,” I say, and then Austin Graham shows up behind Megan.
I wave him in. “Come on in,” I say.
He takes a seat across from me. “I heard the news about your brother,” he says, and I’m not surprised how fast word travels in this industry. “Can we talk about what this might mean for me?”
“Right now we don’t know what it means, Austin. We’ll take a hard look during camp, but you know my style is to keep the defense on their toes. That could mean anywhere from zero to three tight ends on the field for any given play, and I know your strengths. We’ll utilize them and push you to success.”
He nods. “I was hoping I’d be the one to step in Ben Olson’s shoes,” he admits. “I’ve been waiting my turn, and I thought this was it.”
“Nobody’s saying it isn’t right now except for you. Don’t worry. You’re a valuable player on this team, and I will need you to bring your A-game every time you step foot on that field.”
He nods, still not looking any less deflated than when he walked in here. “Look, Coach. I know you’re aggressive and you’re a risk-taker. I just need to know I’m not getting benched because you’re giving your brother a chance instead.”
I expected the accusation at some point, but I didn’t think it would be literally five seconds after the paperwork was signed, and I didn’t expect a player to confront me over it. “This is a business, Graham, and it would serve you well to remember that.” My tone is icy as I say it. “I will be making decisions based on what’s best for this team, and I’ll thank you in advance to trust that I know what I’m doing. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“Yes, sir.” He mumbles his words and stands to leave, and I wonder for a beat if I was too harsh.
