The Right Player - Kandi Steiner Page 0,21

him was the firm handshake he greeted me with. It told me I should respect him. Not only that, but I’d seen him in action on the field. While he wasn’t the star that Jonah Warren, our starting quarterback, was, Gerald was reliable, and consistent. And as a quarterback? There were no two qualities more important than those. When Warren needed to sit out, the Bears never had to get nervous with their backup QB going in.

I had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before Gerald would inch his way up to that starting position. After all, Warren was getting old — for a professional ball player, anyway. Gerald was twenty-six, just getting into his prime, and after just one month of running drills together, I knew it’d be an honor to be on the field with him.

It was late afternoon by the time we called it, and we plopped down on one of the benches on the sideline of the high school field we’d secured to practice on. We couldn’t use our own facilities until training camp, but that didn’t mean we weren’t resourceful enough to find a way to make it on the field.

After a long swig of water, I relaxed on the bench, taking in the Chicago summer heat and the familiar scent of cleated-dirt and fresh turf. I inhaled deep, letting out a sigh on a smile.

“That smell never gets old,” I commented.

Gerald smirked, nodding as he took a swig from his bottle. “Can you imagine not being a football player? This — the smell, the ball in my hands, the feeling of being on the field — it’s been a part of me since I was four years old. I can’t fathom not having something like this in my life.”

“I hear you. I’ve always wondered at what point we separate from the others, you know? There are the guys who see football as just a sport, or just a pastime when they’re younger. And then…”

“There’s us. The ones who can’t separate it from the rest of our life.”

“The ones who know that football is our life.”

Gerald had his elbows on his knees, and he looked at me over his shoulder. “You’re good, man. Really good. And you came to us at the right time. We need better receiving. I mean, we’ve got Howard and Thompson running for us, but our long game is weak.”

I shook my head, chest tight with a familiar pressure that I somehow found comforting. “I’m going to give it my all at camp. And the preseason games…”

“They might as well be our Super Bowl.”

I chuckled, but with his words, my mind was racing thinking about the upcoming season. I had one chance to prove I was worth the money they paid to get me here, one chance to secure my contract past the stage it was in now. And more than anything, I had one chance to prove that I deserved a spot on that field more than a spot on the sideline.

Gerald kicked back on the bench with me, and we were silent for a while before he nudged my arm. “So, you settling in alright?”

“Getting there. Starting to unpack what little I brought with me.” I mopped the sweat off my forehead again. “Still not used to this humidity, though.”

“Balmy as fuck, isn’t it?” Gerald chuckled, wiping his own forehead. “You met anyone outside the team yet?”

The left side of my mouth curled up, and I knew the sheepish look I gave Gerald answered more than any words could have.

“Ah… who is she?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, though the truth was I hadn’t stopped thinking about Belle Monroe since she left my condo Friday night. “The interior designer I hired to make my condo look like an adult lives there instead of the college bachelor pad situation I had in San Fran.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure she’ll be doing much more than designing your living room.”

“Oh, for sure.” I looked at him with a smirk. “She’s gotta do the whole place.”

“And do you in the whole place, too, right?”

I laughed softly under my breath. “We’ll see if it gets that far.”

At that, Gerald cocked a brow high. “You mean it hasn’t already?” He whistled. “Honestly, that’s a shock. In my experience, it’s usually less than sixty seconds between the time they found out I’m a ball player and my pants are on the floor.”

“Ha, well… she doesn’t know I’m a ball player.”

He frowned. “How the hell?”

“It’s not like

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