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The start of the season always reminds me of getting ready for the first day of school. The break was refreshing and a much-needed respite—time to recharge and heal from the constant physical play—but something is comforting about getting back into the swing of things. Finding the rhythm of this blessed life I’ve worked my ass off for.

But this season in particular has a lot riding on it, and I already feel the pressure. It’s our first season without Branch, and that’ll require a shift in our offense. So much of it was built on the defense being unable to effectively cover him and Chauncey at wide receiver, and me at tight end, at the same time. I’m not sure how, or if we can, compensate for that loss. And as a veteran and championship MVP, everyone will look to me to lead a locker room teeming with rookies.

It’s both a compliment and a burden.

“Hey, Miller,” Chauncey says, clasping my hand and pulling me in for a quick man hug. The wide receiver has filled out, clearly having been working out during the offseason. “Good to see you, man.”

“You, too. What have you been up to?”

“I have a couple of media things today, and then I’m going to see Hannah. I fucked up my shoulder last week, and she’s been helping me rehab it.”

I laugh as we turn down the media corridor. “I bet she has.” It’s no secret that Chauncey has a thing for Hannah. “Who are you meeting with today?”

“Filming some marketing pieces for the team, and then they’re doing a documentary or some shit about quarterbacks, and they asked me if I’d say a few things about Frutter.”

“That’s cool.” I stop, nodding to the door on our left. “This is me. I have an interview with Kylie Gross with Exposé, and then I’m out of here.”

Thank God. I’m not in the mood to chitchat about anything, let alone anything with Exposé. I have no idea why they’re allowed media access to us since they’re essentially a gossip magazine. Just because they opened a sports page on their website doesn’t mean they’re interested in actual sports. It’ll just be question after question about who I’m dating, if I’m single, and why I was caught on camera doing this at this place on this date. A pointless fluff piece at best.

And none of it is any of their fucking business.

This kind of shit is the only thing I downright hate about my job. I used to love it. I used to love sitting down with someone with a camera in my face and being the center of attention. But something changed a couple of years ago, about the time Branch started dating Layla, and I started to see it differently.

The way they don’t see us as human beings, only commodities. Their refusal to distinguish anything as sacred. I used to think it was fun to share my opinions on everything. Now, I want to keep some of those things to myself and not feel like they’re being pried out of me and sold to the highest bidder.

“Later,” Chauncey says as I step into the interview room.

“Finn Miller,” Kylie says, extending a hand. Her smile stretches from ear to ear. “It’s great to see you.”

“Yeah, it’s great to see you, too,” I say, ignoring the way her hand lingers in mine. “How have you been?”

“I’m great, thanks for asking. How has the offseason treated you?”

“It’s been nice. Quiet.”

She turns to the hair and makeup artist standing beside her with a brush in her hand. “Have you met Deanna? If it’s okay, she’ll make sure you look great under the lights. Not that you need much help there.”

I smile at the redhead beside the Legends PR representative, who stands quietly in the corner. “Sure. Want me to sit here?”

“Yes,” Deanna says, getting to work on my hair and face as soon as I get situated. “Your smile is a showstopper.”

“Thanks.”

“My parents tried to buy me a smile like that, but they failed. My front tooth is still slightly crooked,” she says, dusting something on my nose and forehead. “I say it gives me charm now because it makes me feel better about it. But my parents should’ve really demanded a refund from our dentist.”

I grip the armrests. “Fixing it would be a mistake. It’s cute.”

Her cheeks flush as she continues her work. She doesn’t attempt further conversation, and I don’t force it. I was just being kind.

A few years ago, I would’ve flirted shamelessly with her, but I’ve grown beyond that. Finally. Back then, I lapped up the attention and got a rise out of watching women react to me. Maybe my ego needed it. But these days, I don’t care. I really don’t even notice when women bat their eyes my way. I have no interest in managing all of that.

I’ve also not wanted Poppy to think I was interested in anyone else … even though she seems to think she wouldn’t care if I did.

I grin. I call bullshit, Ms. Quinn.

The silence gives me a moment to get my head together—to wrap up any lingering thoughts about Poppy and shift my thoughts to work.

We had such a good time together last night at Layla’s and ended up staying far later than we usually do. Once Sunny went to sleep, we hung out on the back patio, telling stories and laughing as the breeze blew in over the water.