I'll Be There

39 | you are mine

ONE WEEK EARLIER

"What does that have to do with the game?"

Caught off guard, the reporter stuttered. "Well... the Rams are likely to end up in the playoffs yet again this year, so I was wondering what your plan was to stay focused in the postseason?"

Spencer blinked several times at the wall before dragging the mic closer. "I'll stay focused," he muttered.

"Okay, and what exactly will that look—"

Spencer leaned into the mic again. "Any other questions?"

"Mr. James, I wasn't done with my question," the reporter argued back, fighting for his time.

"My bad. Ask your question."

"So what exactly is your plan to stay focused with a child on the way."

"That's none of your business. Next question."

"That's not the answer I was looking for."

Ignoring him, Spencer nodded at the next reporter waiting before looking back down at the table.

"Mr. James, first off, congratulations on the engagement."

"Thanks."

Spencer's eyes held steady on his phone. Holding it between his right thumb and middle finger, he spun it around and around while the reporter got on with his ask.

"You almost left the team over the summer, but ended up staying for another season. People are speculating your reasons for backing out of what would have been a monumental trade with New England. Do you think this team actually has what it takes to win a Super Bowl or was staying more of a personal convenience?"

"Man, I'm out of here." Slamming his palms onto the table, Spencer stood and stormed out of the room.

_____

PRESENT DAY

"LA's finest can't even get himself a ring."

Spencer gritted his teeth as he lined up at the edge of the field. Adjusting his gloves, he kept his focus on what mattered. Thirty-four yards. Second down. Twelve minutes left in the game. Twelve minutes left for him to keep his cool against Trey Wilson, who was notorious for getting under his opponent's skin.

"...gonna retire empty-handed. But then again, you got that fine girl of yours..."

Doing his best to tune out the slow, taunting drawl, Spencer looked to his quarterback, who nodded in his direction. Despite the constant developments in his personal life, he remained the top receiver on the team.

"...too busy playing house. Can't keep up on the field."

His head snapped forward, and in the same second, the ball went into play. Except it was too late, he was already steps behind where he needed to be.

On third down, he stared Trey straight in the eye.

Feeling smug, the cornerback flashed a cocky grin. "When's that baby coming again?"

Spencer refocused his gaze on his target.

Thirty seconds later, he was hurtling down the field, ball in hand, with nothing between him and the end zone. His cleats crossed the goal line, and the camera crew came running out from its designated corner. Glaring into the lens, he spiked the ball at the ground. Everyone at home would take it as a celebration. The crowd was roaring. His teammates were clambering onto his back. But inside, he was seething.