Adam Watson

Playing in a New Year's Six Bowl Game should be a dream come true. It was all any Quarterback could dream for, aside from the National Championship itself. But that was a dream for another year.

And I tried to remind myself of this as I paced my hotel room floor.

An honor. A privilege.

But all I could think about was the open bar downstairs.

Terrence hadn't made the starting line-up, and therefore hadn't hopped the team plane to come to the game. To say he was pissed was an understatement.

That meant I was here. Alone.

Not technically alone, my entire team was downstairs. But they didn't know that their all-star Quarterback was also a raging alcoholic behind closed doors.

So I texted my brother.

Tucking my phone away, I headed downstairs.

"My mannn!" Rex shouted, as he threw an arm around my shoulders. "It's the QB!"

I tried to shrug out of his grasp, but pretty soon I was surrounded, and a shot was being shoved into my hands.

"A shot for our QB!" Rex shouted, before holding his up.

Fuck. It's Jack Daniels. Fuck.

"A shot for a Watson?" Michael's voice called out. He took the shot from me, downing it himself. "My pleasure."

A chorus of boos surrounded us. "Get the fuck out of here!" Rex called out. Which was one of the much more mild things being shouted around us.

Michael nodded toward the back door. "Fresh air?"

"Yeah."

"You can't fraternize with the enemy!" Vlad said, his eyebrows scrunching together. "Did you forget the last time we played this asshole?"

"I know," I said, with a slight laugh. "Trust me, I don't like him either." I swiped a bottle of water off the bar countertop. "Put this on someone's tab."

The chorus of boos followed me outside, as I met up with Michael.

"Thank you," I said. "I know you'll catch shit for this."

"Yeah, well, not as much as you. This is my last season. Headline tomorrow: Adam Watson Throws The Game After Verbal Beatdown by Older Brother."

"That's a long title," I said. "And no chance in hell."

The door opened, Coach Ludwig coming out. "What the hell is going on out here?"

"Just a friendly chat," I said. "Don't blame Michael, I asked him to come over."

"Well my phone is blowing up and your teammates are pissed," Coach said, lowering his eyes at me.

I don't know if it was the pure desperation in my eyes or the fact that at that exact moment, the boys inside started chanting shots when Coach caught on.

"I see," he said. "I'll handle it." And then he disappeared back inside.

"Having a hard time?" Michael asked me.

"Everywhere I go, someone is handing me a shot," I said. "I'm drowning." Shoving my hands in my pockets, I let out a long sigh, trying to calm my racing heart. "I've been delaying telling people I'm sober in case..."

In case something happens. I can't handle disappointing more people.

"It sounds like you're holding yourself back," Michael said. "Keeping a safety net for yourself."

"Yeah."

"In order for this to work, you have to be all in," he said. "You can't get support from people who don't know there's a problem in the first place."

I nodded. "I know, I'm building up to it."

"As for the drinks you're being handed, you need someone to pass them off to. People aren't going to stop handing you drinks, you're the starting QB in a New Year's Six Bowl. People love to buy those guys drinks."

"Terrence didn't make starting line-up."

Michael's face soured. "Damn. I bet he's pissed."

"I don't have anybody," I said, my voice breaking slightly. Clearing my throat, I took a moment to compose myself. "I don't know how to do this."

"You chose to call me," Michael pointed out, "instead of go downstairs to the hotel bar with the rest of the team. You're stronger than you're giving yourself credit for."

"I'm not strong enough to put down a shot when it's shoved into my hands."

The door opened again, Coach Ludwig coming back out. "I need Michael to make a very public exit."

That was longer than I thought we'd make it.

"No problem," Michael said. "Can Terrence fly out here tonight?"

Coach raised an eyebrow. "Terrence... Lewis? The Freshman?"

"That's Adam's sobriety partner."

News to me.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?" Coach asked, his gaze shifting to me. "Yeah, I'll have him on a flight. He can be here by morning."

"I didn't want to cause a scene," I muttered. "Sorry."

Michael slapped me on the back, a crooked smile on his face. "You're starting QB, you can cause a little scene."

"Don't get his ego going," Coach warned. "What do we need to do to support you tonight, Watson?" He cleared his throat. "Adam. Watson."

"I'm just going to ride this out in my room," I said. "Just needed to clear my head."

Ten minutes hadn't been quite as long as what I was hoping for. But hopefully it was enough to keep me clear headed for the night.

"He needs a sobriety partner," Michael said. "Not to snitch on Adam, but he can't handle this much right now. If he's traveling with the team, Terrence should be there too, playing or not."

"I don't need Terrence to babysit-"

Michael cut me off. "Don't turn it into a negative. He's not your babysitter, he's your friend who wants to see you sober. I'd take your drinks, but we're not hanging out at the same bars tonight. It makes sense for your partner to be someone on the team."

I knew Michael was right. It just really sucked to admit it. "What do I do tonight?"

"Go upstairs. Call Sarah, she's flying in tomorrow right?"

I nodded in response.

"Great, call her, talk to her until you fall asleep. Tomorrow is game day, and we can get through the night after. These situations are bound to happen, it's all in how they're handled. And again, I don't see us hanging out at the same bars tomorrow night. So Terrence is your best bet."

"We need to wrap this up, boys," Coach Ludwig said. "Adam? You good?"

No. But I nodded anyways.

"Do you need to shout things at me as I leave?" Michael asked, raising an eyebrow. "Save face for your teammates?"

"That would be preferable."

"You drag me over here so I can offer very few words of wisdom and then I'm kicked out with public berating. This was great for me, can't wait to do it again."

Of course he's right. "Sorry."

He reached over, nudging my shoulder. "It was a joke, Adam."

"First you actually show up when I text you and then you're cracking jokes? I never know what to expect with you."

"You can always text me. I'll take a public berating for a sober brother any day."

That hit. Hard. "Thank you."

"I mean it when I say any time." He stretched his arms above his head, letting out a sigh. "Okay, let's do this. I'm sure I'm about it hear from my Coach too."

Walking back inside, we were immediately met with another chorus of boos.

"I see why you needed my expertise!" Michael shouted, over the noise. "Can't rely on a Commodore for shit."

"Expertise?" I shouted back. "The only thing I called you here for is to remind you of the faces that will be kicking your Trojan ass tomorrow."

Trash talking wasn't in my wheelhouse, and I stepped down to let my team harass him out of the door.

"Let's wrap this up!" Coach Ludwig called out. "Upstairs in fifteen."

"What the fuck were you out there with a Trojan for?" Rex asked me.

You can't get support from people who don't know there's a problem in the first place.

Time to face the music. "I'm uh... sober. Or at least, trying to be."

Silence was never a word I'd used to describe my team before. But now, you could hear a fucking pin drop amongst my starting lineup.

"And Michael was just coming over to check on me," I continued. "He's a fucking Trojan, but as my brother, he's also a part of my support team."

"You want to be sober?" Rex asked.

That was a loaded question. No? Yes? A mix of both? "I think it would be the best decision for me." A politician answer, but the best I've got.

"We've seen Adam drink," Vlad said. "I think that's a good decision for us, trying to keep up with him. RIP our livers."

It was never a good idea for someone to try and go drink-for-drink with me.

"I'm going to head upstairs," I said. "But uh, I didn't spill any team secrets to the enemy. I want to make sure that's out there loud and clear. Just trying to stay sober."

Sober. A foreign concept for me, let alone an intention for me to announce to my entire team.

Oh, you see me taking a shot? Don't mind me, just self-destructing.

"We got you, QB," Reece said. "It's a bit of a shock, but I guess you do fraternize with the enemy on Thanksgiving and Christmas too."

A light round of laughter.

"How long you been sober for?" Davian questioned. "We went out with you after playoffs."

Still suspicious, which was fair.

"I was technically sober then. Just not good at it." That needed a follow-up. "I'm not necessarily good at it now either. Just trying harder."

"So if we offer you a shot of Jack?" Davian asked.

"I'd really prefer that you didn't."

"But you'd say no if we did?"

No? Yes? Another mixed answer. "I would want to." Well... I never wanted to say no to Jack Daniels. "I try not to be in that situation."

"I'm not buying it," Davian said. "Bullshit that you just so happened to need to talk to a Trojan the night before our game. Not only a Trojan, but their Star player. Brother or not."

"I could believe it," Reece said. "My uncle got sober once. He's not anymore, but when he was, he had like a support group."

I took the opportunity to speak up. "And while Michael may be a newly added member to my support group, he was my only option today."

"Not anymore," Rex said. "Fuck the Trojans, and fuck these guys. You need a support team, we're your team."

"We'll see," Davian said. "I'm still not sure I'm buying this."

"Lights out!" Coach Ludwig's voice called out. "Upstairs, now."

~*~

Team breakfast was very heavily tainted by ESPN's big, bold headline.

Watson scandal? Brothers caught trading team secrets last night. Details to come.

"Who leaked to the press?" Coach Ludwig demanded, his voice booming throughout the conference room. "I want names and I want them now."

As though tonight's game wasn't pressure enough. Now I had a scarlet letter tainting my reputation.

All because I was trying to do the right fucking thing.

The room was silent as ESPN droned on about tonight's predictions, about the game, hinting toward their scandal drop soon to come.

"Insider info," Coach Ludwig continued. "Source requested to be anonymous. When I find out, and I'm saying when, I will end your career."

Of course, my first thought was Davian. But as a co-captain, it didn't seem feasible. Davian was team first, always. There's no way he'd leak to the press.

"I think it's real fucking bullshit," I said, my voice raising with each word. "If you have a problem, come and talk to me about it. But as leader of this fucking team? Who the fuck thinks that I'm publicly announcing my brother coming over, and then just standing outside on a hotel back porch, in the open, handing over a playbook? Who the fuck, honestly?"

I turned to face my team, the rage only starting to build. To say that I was furious would be an understatement.

"I heard Reece on the phone last night," Davian said.

Silence, all eyes shifting to Reece.

"I took a phone call," Reece said. "What're you trying to say?"

"I'm no fucking snitch, but this goes far beyond a reputation. You've painted our Quarterback to be a mole," Davian said. "So what I'm saying, is that if you leaked this story to the press, you're off my team."

"You don't have the authority to do that," Coach Ludwig said. "But I'm not disagreeing."

The rage continued to build. "After I stood downstairs and opened up about what the fuck I've been going through?"

"I took a phone call," Reece repeated. "You're spinning-"

"It was Reece," Rex said. "I recorded him. I was going to go to Coach Ludwig privately... but this is the right thing to do."

"Let's hear it," I said. "Go ahead, the whole team deserves to know what you had to say about me."

"You can't possibly believe this bullshit story Watson is spinning," Reece said, with a laugh. "His brother, who happens to be on the team we're playing tonight, just happens to come over? And now Adam just happens to be sober? When we all went out two weeks ago?"

"Four weeks ago," I corrected. "I've been sober since the end of November. Officially sober."

"Which is something we'll be talking about," Coach Ludwig said. "But the fact still stands that not only trashed the reputation of this team, but of Adam. The guy who got you here in the first place. 266 completed passes, completion percent right around 76%. Do you know what your drop rate is this season?"

"I don't-" Reece started, but Coach didn't give him a chance to finish.

"46% drop rate," Coach said. "So I can rely on my starting receiver 54% of the time."

"I don't-"

"Pack your shit," Coach said. "You're on the next flight out of here."

A knock came on the conference room door, a concierge stepping inside. "Were you expecting a Terrence Reed?"

What fucking timing.

"Sure was," Coach said. "Send him in."

Terrence came into the room, his eyes flickering around the team's silent demeanor.

"Congratulations, Reed," Coach said. "You just make starting line-up. Gear up."

"Is this fucking serious?" Reece asked.

"You're off the team," Coach said. "If I haven't made that clear."

"Is anybody buying this story?" Reece demanded. "Seriously?"

Uneasy glances. Silence.

"Someone speak up," I said. "Speak now or-"

"It's a little fishy," Vlad said. "But as our QB, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

I handed my phone to Terrence, showing him the article to catch him up.

"Oh," Terrence muttered. "Oh, that's why-"

I didn't need Terrence announcing that my brother had texted him. "Yeah."

"Do you want my AA logs?" I questioned. "Alcoholics Anonymous, I clock in weekly. Want to know which rehab I went to? Priority Medical, spent 30 days there last January. Want to know which outpatient-"

"So this is a problem, problem," Davian said. "Because last night you made it seem like an offhand decision."

"Sorry for not really wanting to dive into my extensive alcohol abuse in the middle of a hotel bar."

"And your brother?" Davian questioned. "He knows this?"

This time Terrence chose to speak up. "I've lived with the Watsons for four years prior to coming to Vandy. His dad, his brother, me, we all knew."

"So you knew he had this alcohol thing, but you didn't say anything three, four weeks ago," Vlad pointed out. "Again, not saying that I'm not backing you, QB. I'm just pointing out why-"

"You don't need to explain it to me," I said. "Because it's very clear to me that nobody else in this room suffers."

Silence.

"Because, you see, when you're done being depressed, it must just go away for you. Or when you have anxiety, after your panic attack, it must just dissipate."

No answer.

"But for me, it doesn't work like that. I can decide I want to be sober today, and then tomorrow down six shots and a pack of beer. And then the next day restart my sobriety journey. It never goes away. If I don't actively choose recovery, then I'm an alcoholic. And for me, there's no middle ground."

"So what happened last night?" Davian questioned.

"I wanted to have some Jack Daniels. But I also want to win tonight, and to do that I need to be at my peak performance. And once I start drinking... I don't stop. So I texted my brother. Yes, he happens to play for the team that we're playing tonight. But he's my brother. And I needed his support."

I gestured toward the back patio of the hotel. "He came in the front door of the hotel. You all saw him. I wasn't sneaking him in. We stood right there, Coach Ludwig was there for a majority of our conversation. It's a lit, back patio, in plain eyesight. We talked about sobriety, and then he left. Again, in front of all of you. If I was trading team secrets, or whatever the fuck I'm being accused of, don't you think that'd be a really shitty way to do it?"

Sometime during that speech, Reece had officially left. But that wasn't enough for me.

"I want Reece back in here to explain why the fuck-"

"We have a game to play tonight," Coach Ludwig said, interrupting my demand for justice. "We need to squash this and  do it now. We're meeting at the team bus in thirty minutes. I don't care what ESPN has to say, I don't care what other headlines come out of this. We came here to play some fucking football. So suit up boys."

"That's my life motto!" Rex called out. "We came here to play some fucking football. Proud to be on your team, Watson." He slapped me on the back before heading out.

The rest of the team filed out, until it was just Davian and me.

"I'm not having animosity between my captains," Coach said. "Anything else we're putting out there?"

"I'm good," Davian said. "Rookie?"

"I'm good."

Coach Ludwig clapped us both on the back. "Glad to hear it. Now let's go play some football."

Gearing up for game day! How do we feel about Adam & Michael? Do you think his team has the right to be suspicious?

I've started writing the next chapter, and just a heads up, there are probably about 3-4 chapters left!

(the end of Saving Adam at least. then we're onto Chasing Joel!)

Teaser: Sarah's POV. we get some Joel