Damaged Petals.

[Soapy]

On Sophie just learning to drive, it tracks because of Liz. Jimmy didn’t drive (or didn’t really) either. Brice and Tom drove him everywhere. Add in that Sophie’s the girl of the bunch, the youngest and was like 13 when Jimmy got packed out and Liz probably forbade her from driving for control. But now Tom gotta compete for her love because he ripped up the household for Brittany’s coont coont and her star fishing skills so he’s gonna teach her.

Anyway, Cooper. Nice, strong Anglo name. Liz will be proud she is not like her brother.

I don’t know why they giving Serena that advice. Brice probably plotting on the realtor and everything.

Appreciate the analysis but could have done without the potshots

They crash there. And it’s never just them.”

next thing you know Brice is flipping bitches on twin mattresses like he back in Indy with Justin

Brice hasn't cheated in nearly two calendar years by the way

[Soapy]

Season 12, Episode 4
"Yeah, he’s lived with me before but I don’t know it’s different."

Brice looked out the window, to the rooftops and the treetops.

"It’s like some real dad shit. Coming home. Just us. Playing with him, changing his diapers, feeding him. I don’t know, it’s a lot different without someone else there, someone you’re paying to be there."

He laughed a little at himself, shaking his head.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I definitely want to get another live-in. Been meaning to."

Marchetti tilted her head slightly. “Have you?”

“I mean, I brought it up a couple times. Serena’s kind of just been like, non-committal about it. I get it now, though.”

“Get what?”

“Why she’s dragging her feet on it.” Brice shrugged. “I think she’s into it. The whole—” he gestured vaguely with his hand, “—mom thing.”

“Have you asked her?”

“Asked her what?”

“If she enjoys it. Motherhood. Being James’s primary caretaker.”

Brice thought about it. “No. Not really.” He paused. “But I think she does.”

He looked out the window again, at the same rooftops.

“I know she does, actually. We had this conversation a few months back, out when we were in California. She told me she wants to be a mom. Like a real mom.” He caught himself. “Not that she’s not one now, obviously, she is, but you know what I mean.”

Marchetti nodded.

Brice let out a short laugh, surprised. “Wait, that’s it? No ‘what do you mean by real mom, Brice’? No making me define it?”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“Have you two talked about it,” she said, “having more children?”

“Not right now, obviously.” He shifted in the chair. “I just got to the league. There’s a lot riding on this year. James is about to turn two. Once things settle down a little, we can have that conversation. Marriage. More kids. All of it.”

“Have you told her that?”

He scoffed, waving a hand. “Nah.”

“Why not?”

“Serena’s not that type of girl.”

“What type of girl?"

Brice grinned, pointing a finger at her. “See. There she is. There’s the Jennifer I know.”

Marchetti didn’t smile back.

“She’s not like other girls, where every little thing’s gotta turn into some big conversation. Some argument.” He leaned back in the chair. “She just gets it.”

“Gets what?”

“Gets everything. She’s easygoing. Supportive. She understands everything else that comes with all this.” He gestured around, at nothing, at everything. “I’m not always gonna say it out loud, but she knows I care. About her. That I love her.”

Marchetti wrote something down, unhurried. “Is that important to you? That she knows without you telling her?”

“I guess.”

“Is that what you love most about her? That she knows without being told?”

Brice sat with the question for a second.

“She was there,” he said finally. “When everything was falling apart. When half the country thought I had something to do with what happened to Skylar.” He looked down at his hands. “She didn’t ask me anything. Didn’t need an explanation. She just stayed.”

Marchetti watched him. “She didn’t jump ship.”

“No.” He shook his head. “She was there.”

…

Sophie pinched off another pretzel bite, the cinnamon sugar sticking to her fingers, and popped it in her mouth before Cooper could steal it like he had the last three.

“Hey,” he said, straw still in his mouth, working on the last of his smoothie. “Thanks for coming out. To the game.”

“Yeah, well.” She wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I didn’t know you were actually good.”

“Wow.”

“I mean it as a compliment. I thought you were just on the team so you could wear the jersey around school. Very cool, very mysterious lacrosse guy.”

“That club we played was trash, so I don’t know about all that.” He set the cup down.

"Take the compliment, Coop."

He shook his head, but he was smiling. She reached for another pretzel bite. He got there first this time.

“Hey.”

“Tax,” he said, already chewing.

She let it go, watching the food court crowd move past, some kid dragging his mom toward the arcade, a group of girls she didn’t know by name but recognized by face clustered around a phone screen, laughing at something.

“You’re gonna play in college?” she asked.

Cooper shrugged, leaning back in the plastic chair. “I don’t know. Got some interest from Trine. Hanover too.”

“You interested?"

“They’re okay. Small.” He picked at the rim of his cup. “I don’t know if I want small, though. Like, I kind of want the big school experience. Even if I’m just a student."

“You’d give up lacrosse?”

“It’s not like it’s my whole personality.” He caught himself. “Okay, don’t say anything.”

She raised both hands, pretzel bite still between two fingers. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were gonna.”

“I was absolutely gonna, but I didn’t.” She ate the pretzel bite. "What schools were you thinking? Outside of lacrosse?"

“I probably can’t do Michigan, my grades aren’t that good. But maybe IU, Madison.” He looked at her. “What about you? Know where you’re going yet?"

Sophie shrugged, reaching for the pretzel bag again, mostly just to have something to do with her hands. “No idea.”

“No idea like you haven’t picked, or no idea like—”

“No idea like I don’t know if I’m even going.”

“Come on.” He tilted his head at her. “You’re literally the smartest kid in our grade.”

“That’s not saying much.”

He laughed, and she did too, and for a second neither of them said anything, just sat there in the noise of the food court, the smell of pretzel dough and fry oil hanging over everything.

They got up eventually, tossing the smoothie cup and the empty pretzel bag, and wandered down past the shoe store, the phone case kiosk. Cooper stopped in front of Bath & Body Works, glancing through the glass at the wall of candles stacked all the way to the ceiling.

“We should go in,” he said. “See if they’ve got anything good on sale.”

Sophie looked at him. “Wow. Laying it on pretty thick, huh.”

“What?”

“Gotta balance out the lacrosse bro thing somehow. Can’t just be jersey and abs. Gotta throw in a candle guy in there too.”

“Is it working?”

She punched him in the arm but she was already moving toward the door, and when his hand found hers, fingers loose around hers, she didn’t pull away. They walked in like that, the smell of vanilla welcoming them into the store.

…

Serena had a seltzer she wasn’t drinking, condensation soaking into the cuff of her sleeve. She kept it there, resting against her thigh, and watched the field instead. The section was small, bleachers set up behind a low fence, a couple of the wives with kids on their laps, sunglasses pushed up into their hair even though the sky was overcast.

Down on the field, Brice took the snap. She could tell from the way his eyes moved, quick, side to side, that nothing was there. Then he was moving, drifting out to his left, rolling away from the pocket the way he did, the way she’d watched him do a hundred times.

He flicked it downfield without really setting his feet.

A receiver she didn’t recognize, small compared to everyone else on the field, was already in the back corner of the end zone, and the ball dropped into his hands like it had been placed there.

“Fuck yes!”

The voice came from two seats down. A girl, younger than most of the others in the section, hand slapped over her own mouth almost as soon as the words were out. She turned around to the row behind her, cheeks going warm under her skin.

“Sorry. Sorry, my bad.”

The group laughed. Camille was shaking her head, waving a hand. “She’s had one too many of these,” Camille said, holding up her own seltzer can.

“I needed that,” the girl said, still laughing at herself, looking back out at the field where the receiver was jogging back toward the sideline, teammates slapping at his helmet. “He needed that.”

“He’ll make the roster,” Camille said. “He’s been balling out all camp.”

Serena watched the girl for a second. She was the only other face in the section that looked like hers, and young the way Serena was young, no ring catching the light, no kid balanced on a hip.

“That your man?” Serena asked. “The receiver?”

The girl turned toward her, like she was noticing her for the first time, though Serena had been sitting close enough all morning. “Yeah.” She stuck a hand out. “Tatiana.”

“Serena.”

“I know who you are,” Tatiana said, and smiled when she said it.

Serena was still getting used to that.

Tatiana leaned in a little. “Guess I need to start sucking up to you then. Get Esco a few more targets.”

Serena laughed. “Guess you better pass me that seltzer, then. See how far sucking up gets you.”

Tatiana handed it over without hesitating, already laughing too, and Serena took a sip. Down on the field, the offense was breaking huddle again, Brice getting up from his knee, and the two of them turned back to watch, shoulder to shoulder now instead of two seats apart.

…

“I ain’t nickel and dime nothing,” Brice said. “I signed for the whole thing.”

“Like you had a choice, rook."

“Man, get the fuck out of here.” Brice waved him off, laughing anyway.

The rest of the vets were already filtering toward the door, doggy bags swinging.

The table had cleared out enough that it was just him now, Kaliq across from him, Esco beside Kaliq, the three of them with the last of their drinks in front of them and the waitress not yet circling back to see if they needed anything else.

“So when we’re in scramble drill,” Esco said, leaning forward on his elbows, “and you’re out the pocket, what are you looking for?"

“Work it to the sideline first,” Brice said. “Then work it upfield. Give me an angle. And keep your eyes on me the whole time. Don’t turn your head unless I’ve already put it somewhere.”

Esco nodded, like he was digesting something important.

“Honestly, though,” Brice said, laughing a little. “I don’t really got a plan once I’m out there. It’s just vibes at that point.”

Kaliq laughed too, shaking his head. “Nah, see, I already knew that watching your tape. That’s how buddy ended up with like a hundred receptions or whatever."

"Something like that. If I trust you, I’m throwing it. Pause."

"Yeah, that was crazy," Kaliq turned his cup on the table, "That’s why we need them reps, brudda. I’m trying to break one-k this season, no kizzy."

Brice nodded, sitting back. “We should get something together. During the dead period. Get a field somewhere, get some guys out, throw for a few days.”

“You should put that together,” Kaliq said. "You the Q, franchise."

“I’m down for whatever,” Esco said quickly.

Brice nodded. “Weekend somewhere. A little vacation with the boys. Get a house, throw during the day, chill at night.”

Kaliq’s eyebrows went up. “That’s actually a great idea, rook.”

“Yeah?”

“Your dime, though,” Kaliq said, already grinning.

Brice shook his head. “Of course it’s my dime. Bum ass motherfuckers.”

[Caesar]

Brice grinned, pointing a finger at her. “See. There she is. There’s the Jennifer I know.”

Woman's name is even Jennifer

So Brice loves Serena because she knows her place, huh?

[Captain Canada]

Brice gonna fuck the therapist with maximum ferocity. Waiting until she breaks

[Soapy]

Brice grinned, pointing a finger at her. “See. There she is. There’s the Jennifer I know.”

Woman's name is even Jennifer

So Brice loves Serena because she knows her place, huh?

s/o melfi

Brice gonna fuck the therapist with maximum ferocity. Waiting until she breaks

[Soapy]

Season 12, Episode 5
“Just us,” Brice said. “No wives, no girlfriends."

Marchetti didn’t write anything down.

“That’s the plan, anyway.” He shrugged.

She waited.

“It’s just a chance to get some work in before camp. Get some chemistry going with the receivers.” He leaned back in the chair. "I thought about doing something back home but trying to convince a bunch of millionaires to spend a weekend in South Bend is a tougher pitch than a weekend out in the Hamptons."

“How long are you gone?”

“Gonna head out there tonight, get settled in. Come back Sunday.” He nodded along. “That’s probably the longest I’ll be away from James since I got back.”

Marchetti’s pen moved this time.

“Since California,” he added.

“How does that sit with you?”

“Honestly? I didn’t even clock it until right now.” He rubbed at his beard, the length beginning to feel foreign. “It’s been every day. Since I got back. No gaps.”

“No gaps.”

“Yeah, like no weekends at my mom’s. No weekends with the Hayes. They’re Skylar’s parents, his grandparents. No days where it’s just the nanny the whole time and I show up right before bed.” He laughed, short, more at himself than anything. “We’ve found a nice little routine, you know? I wake up, say hi to him. Serena’s probably pissed since he ends up waking up half the time and I’m on the way to the facility. Come back home, play with him, feed him, put him to sleep most nights."

“That’s important to you.”

“I don’t know, I guess it is.” He sat forward now, elbows on his knees. “I don’t know. It’s like I actually get to see him grow. You know? They make small steps every day that you miss if you’re not there. Quite literally sometimes."

Marchetti nodded slowly, letting him keep going.

“I want to be good at this,” Brice said. “Like really good. Not just show-up-for-the-highlights good. I want to be a good father this time.”

The pen stopped.

“This time?”

Brice let out a short laugh, half to himself, catching the words a beat after they’d already left his mouth.

"That’s right," he shook his head, "You don’t know about that."

"About what?"

“It’s a long story,” he said.

Marchetti glanced at her watch.

“We’ve got time.”

…

Garrett ran a quick out, snapping his head around at ten yards, hands still by his side at the top of the route. Brice threw it flat and hard and Garrett caught it without breaking stride, and jogged upfield.

Omar went next. Then Kenyon, who took off galloping down the seams.

Kaliq came up rolling his shoulders, nodding along to the music that was playing from a speaker on the sideline. He ran a slant, cut hard, and Brice put it on him chest-high. Kaliq caught it in stride and made an imaginary defender miss before going upfield.

Mason went. Evan went, loping through a route out of the backfield.

Esco was last. He lined up, ran a corner route, full speed the whole way, caught the ball at the sideline and kept his legs churning another forty yards into the end zone like there was a game on the line.

Kaliq watched him go, hands on his hips. “Bro. Ain’t nobody out here, man. You ain’t got nobody to impress!"

Garrett shook his head, laughing. Esco ignored him and jogged back towards the group.

Brice checked his phone, sitting face-up in the grass by his feet.

“Alright,” he said. “Garrett, X. Omar, Y.” He looked at Kaliq. “You’re in the slot.”

“I ain’t just no damn slot receiver,” Kaliq said immediately, pointing at him. “Remember that. I’m a chess piece, nigga."

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Brice said. “Evan, you’re in the backfield.” He nodded toward the tight ends. “Kenyon, Mason, y’all rotate. One of you’s at tight end, other one’s snapping. Switch it up whenever.”

Mason volunteered to snap first, jogging up to the spot Brice pointed out in the grass. Kenyon lined up off the line, rolling his neck.

“I’ll play D,” Esco said, already moving toward the defensive side, bouncing a little on his feet.

Kaliq laughed, shaking his head slow. “Man, this nigga always trying too fucking hard."

“I’ll lock your ass up,” Esco said, not even looking at him, already finding his spot across from where Kaliq would line up.

“Oh, we doing this?” Kaliq grinned, "Mouse in the fucking house, nigga!"

The rest of the group laughed. Esco got down into a stance across from Kaliq, both of them settling into it now.

Brice called it out, the same cadence he’d use in a real game. Mason snapped it back into his hands.

…

Serena set the box cutter down on top of the box marked KITCHEN and stood back, hands on her hips, looking at the mess of bubble wrap and newspaper scattered across the floor. James was in the pack-and-play by the window, gnawing on a teether, watching her.

“You’re no help,” she told him. He laughed in response.

The doorbell rang.

She glanced at the clock on the microwave. She wiped her hands on her leggings and picked her way through the boxes toward the front door, already running through who it could be.

She opened the door and the porch was full of people.

Camille was first, a bottle of champagne tucked under each arm, sunglasses pushed up into her hair. Behind her, two women Serena recognized but couldn’t place names to yet, one of them holding a wine bottle in each hand. And Tatiana, bringing up the rear with a charcuterie board already arranged, plastic wrap stretched tight over the top, meats fanned out in a meticulous pattern.

“Surprise,” Camille said, already stepping past her into the foyer before Serena had said a word.

“Oh, this must be what it’s like to be with the quarterback,” the woman with the wine said, moving past her too, taking in the house, heels clicking against the hardwood.

Serena stood there, hand still on the door, boxes visible behind her in the living room, half-unpacked lamps sitting on the floor instead of tables.

“Sorry for the mess, I wasn’t expecting—"

“Girl, nobody cares,” Camille called back over her shoulder, already setting the champagne down on the kitchen island, moving a stack of unopened mail out of the way to make room. “You think our houses looked any different the first month?”

"Shit, the first year," the other woman added, drawing a laugh from the group.

Tatiana set the charcuterie board down next to the champagne, then turned around, spotting James in the pack-and-play through the doorway.

“Oh my god, look at him,” she said, already crossing the room toward him, crouching down. "He looks just like his daddy."

"That ain’t a bad thing," Camille let out a small chuckle, "You’ve done alright for yourself girl."

Serena finally let the door close behind her.

Tatiana straightened up, James looking up at her now.

"We know it feels like a lot right now but we got you girl," Tatiana said, smiling wide, "We’re going to help you unpack, we’re going to drink this good ass wine that Camille got and we’re going to have ourselves a good time. They’re not the only ones having fun this weekend, okay?"

…

The dining table had gone loose, plates pushed to the side, wine bottles standing at different heights like they were keeping score. Brice sat at the corner, one arm draped over the back of his chair, watching the room split into its little pockets. Omar and Mason were still at the table, picking at what was left of the bread. Kenyon had migrated to the kitchen island, perched on a stool, beer sweating a ring into the marble. Evan and Esco were on the couch in the living room, phones out, half paying attention.

Garrett was standing near the island, arms crossed, a glass of something brown in one hand.

“It’s those fucking Thursday night games,” Garrett said, shaking his head already like the memory itself was tired. "You just lost Sunday, you’re not even done processing that motherfucker and boom, you’re in fucking Jacksonville, down two touchdowns and you just lose two games in like ten days and the season is over before it even started."

“Shit,” Kaliq shook his head, "You could have said that before the season even started."

“I ain’t gonna lie, I went to bed that night thinking the whole staff was gone."

“We all thought that,” Omar said from the table, not looking up, "I’m pretty sure I told Coach Jeff thank you for everything after that game."

“Woke up the next morning,” Garrett went on, "Walk into the facility. Same faces. Same everybody.”

He laughed. “I remember just sitting there like, damn. We really doing this shit again.”

Brice didn’t say anything. He hadn’t been in that locker room. Hadn’t been on that flight home. He only knew the record, the numbers, the reason a rebuild had needed a name attached to it.

“That whole stretch,” Kenyon said from his stool, “I don’t even know how to explain it to somebody who wasn’t there. It was like losing became the expectation. Like you’d go into a game already bracing for it. Didn’t matter who we were playing. You’d feel it Thursday, Friday. Just this…dread.”

Garrett nodded along, taking a sip from his glass.

“I don’t know if we survive another year like that,” Garrett said, quieter now, looking down into his drink instead of at anybody. “Just on some real shit. I mean I fuck with Coach G, I really do, but at some point, it’s like enough is enough."

Nobody said anything for a second.

Kaliq looked over at Brice, head tilting slightly, a grin already starting.

“Shit,” he said. “Ain’t that why this motherfucker is here?”

A couple of the guys laughed, glancing over at Brice too now.

Brice shrugged, spreading his hands out a little on the table.

“I’ve carried some sad sacks of shit to the promised land before,” he said. “No guarantees, though.”

The table broke up laughing, Garrett included, shaking his head, pointing his glass at Brice like he’d earned that one. Kenyon nearly choked on his beer. Even Esco looked up from his phone in the living room, begrudgingly letting a smile slip through.

Kaliq was already up, moving toward the row of shot glasses lined along the island from earlier, uncapping the tequila.

“Fuck it,” he said, pouring. “To sad sacks of shit.”

“To sad sacks of shit,” Garrett repeated, already reaching for one.

[djp73]

to sad sacks of shit

[redsox907]

Brice gonna be calling them all sad sacks of shit when he's sacked 66 times by week 12 and his team leads the league in drops