by B. B. Hamel
The week sped past. I kept thinking about that night in the hot tub, and we kept working on his rehab. We didn’t talk about what had happened, but I could see it in the way he looked at me sometimes with that cocky grin.
Sunday came, and it was game time. We did our pregame routine, but he wasn’t talkative. I stretched him out, and when I was finished, instead of getting up and heading out, he just sat there.
I leaned up against the wall. “You okay?” I asked him.
“I’m good. Just collecting myself.”
“You’re going to do great. I believe in you.”
He looked up at me. “Thanks. Maybe it’s stupid, but I needed to hear that.”
That made me feel good. “How’s the knee feel?”
“Fine. Aches, but doesn’t hurt worse when I put pressure on it.”
“That’s a good sign.”
He shrugged and went silent. I sat down next to him, and we sat together for a couple of minutes, not talking.
I couldn’t imagine what was going on in his brain. This was a big game for the team, and it was a huge game for him. Really, every game was a big game for him, since this was his chance to prove that he belonged in the league, and that he was the star everyone thought he was. I could really only guess at the enormous amount of pressure he was under.
“I want to tell you something,” he said finally, “but I don’t know how to say it.”
I cocked my head at him. He gazed back at me, looking serious. I was taken aback for a second, surprised by his expression. Owen was rarely serious.
“Okay,” I said. “Just say it. I’ll listen.”
He frowned at me, staring and not speaking. Finally, he cracked a smile. “Your pussy is the most delicious little thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life.”
I sighed, smiling slightly. “Is that really what you wanted to say?”
He stood up. “Of course. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.”
He nodded and disappeared through the door.
I sat there staring after him, wondering what he had really wanted to say. I knew it wasn’t that stupid joke, but I couldn’t prove it. There had just been something in his expression, some subtle emotion I couldn’t quite name. It was maybe a kind of sadness that I’d never seen in him before.
Eventually, I got up and headed down the hallway, toward the field. I could sit around and obsess over every little look Owen gave me, but in the end I had a job to do, and I was going to do it right.
16
Owen
I felt my knee the second I got on the turf.
I’d been fine all week. Stressed, sure, but my knee hadn’t been bad. But for some reason, as soon as I stepped out there, ready to perform, the pain flared up. I could feel it all through my leg, sharp and stinging.
I couldn’t back down, though. We lost the coin toss and received the ball first, so I was out in the formation immediately, ready to take my first carry.
There was nothing like getting that ball in my hands and running right up the fucking gut. I loved bursting through guys, dropping my shoulder and leading with my head. The only thing comparable was feeling Taylor’s tight pussy wrapped around my cock as I fucked her in the hot tub.
I hit that pile on my first carry and was tackled almost immediately. Pain flared, but I swallowed it, ignored it. I went back to work.
Carry after carry. I wasn’t getting much open running room, so I had to grind for every fucking inch. Brutal, physical, and painful, I played that game with everything I had.
We were losing at halftime. The coach was pissed, mostly at the offensive line. They weren’t getting a good push off, so there were no gaps opening for me to run through. I was getting short gains, maybe four yards, and my best run was only for ten yards. It was rough and slow going, and our passing offense wasn’t doing much better.
The second half rolled around. I caught Taylor watching me as I trotted out onto the field for our first possession. We were down by two touchdowns. I could tell she knew something was up with me. She was concerned, but she wasn’t saying anything.
I knew she could go to the coach and tell him right away. If she did, she might get in some trouble, but I’d be pulled from the game for sure. He wasn’t going to risk his star player.
But I had my reasons for staying. I had a lot of money riding on this game, and I wasn’t sure what would happen if we actually lost. I needed to get out there and make something happen.
I was desperate. Play after play, I put my body on the line, my whole career on the line, and we kept getting pushed back. I could feel the game turning away from us, moving in the opposite direction.
The third quarter ended, and we were still down by two touchdowns. I was gaining nothing, and my knee still ached.
Fourth quarter started. I was given the ball on the thirty-yard line. I saw a gap between the center and the right guard and hit it hard, bursting past the linebacker that came to fill the gap, slamming him over. I felt something in my knee tweak, but I just kept running. I saw open field ahead of me.
Ten yards, twenty yards. I could smell the fucking end zone.
And then a burning, screaming pain shot up my leg and I was tumbling over, sliding along the grass.
It took me a second to realize what had happened. As I lay there listening to the scream of the crowd, I realized that someone had caught up and tripped me up from behind.
One of my linemen helped me to my feet. Pain flared up along my knee.
I had to make a choice. We were on the edge of the end zone, but my knee was in serious pain. I knew that if I ignored it, I could do real damage.
I looked around and listened. I caught Taylor’s eye on the sidelines, and she shook her head. “Don’t,” she mouthed.
She knew what had happened. She could see it in the way I was standing. I went into the huddle, and I had one second to make my choice.
The play came through. It was a running play right up the gut. Coach wanted me to find the end zone, finish my run up. He was trusting me with this, one of the most important plays of the game.
If we failed to make it into the end zone here and settled for the field goal, we were likely doomed. But we had enough time to catch them, or maybe even snag a win, if I went for it here.
Then again, if I went for it and succeeded but blew out my knee, I’d be done for the season. My whole career was riding on this moment, and I didn’t know what to do.
The team was looking at me. I had to acknowledge that I’d heard the play and was ready to go before we could break. The play clock was ticking down.
“Let’s fucking do this,” I said, and we broke.
I glanced at Taylor again, but she was looking away.
We got into formation. We were in the I-formation, with the quarterback under center, a big boy behind him, and me behind that big boy, ready to get the ball.
Noah took the snap. The big boy cleared ahead, slamming into the line. I pushed off, running hard, ignoring the pain. I took the ball from Noah and surged forward.
But there was a pile of bodies ahead of me.
I couldn’t stop and cut back. I knew my knee couldn’t take that kind of abuse. I wouldn’t be quick enough, not with the pain shooting up my side.
It was straight ahead or nothing.
I burst forward, dropping my shoulder and my head, and dove through the air.
There was no going through that pile. There was no going around it.
I dove into the air, flying above the bodies below me. I put my own body on the line for this as I sailed.
Ahead of me, a linebacker came to meet me. He jumped and tried to tackle me back, slamming me midair.
But it was too late. I slammed into him, and my momentum carried us both forward. I hit the ground on the other side of the pile and rolled into the end zone.
The crowd exploded around me. I was pulled to my feet by my teammates, but I could barely walk. Pain flared all over me as I made my way to the sidelines.
I wanted to celebrate, but the pain stopped me.
The support staff was all over me instantly. It was obvious that something was wrong with me. I had scored the touchdown, but I was shaken up.
Taylor was with the staff that checked me out. She frowned, helping, but didn’t say a word to me.
“Good play, son,” Coach Kelly said. “Now you rest. We’ll finish this off.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
I was carried to the benches while the lead doctor took a look at my knee.
“Swelling,” he said. “How painful?”
“Not too bad,” I said.
“Don’t lie,” Taylor interrupted.
I looked at her. “I can still play.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think you can.”
I looked at the doctor. “Give me a pain shot, whatever you have to do. I can still play.”
He frowned. “No. You’re out for the rest of this game, hopefully not for the rest of the season.”
I leaned back against the bench and looked up at the crowd. They were cheering again as my touchdown was played over and over on the big screen.
“Fuck,” I said, and let out a breath.
17
Taylor
I knew he was going to go for it.
From the second he walked into that huddle, I knew it. After he broke out that big run, setting them up on the one-yard line, I knew he couldn’t let it go. He just wasn’t the type of man to sit down and let the rest of the team take over from there.
But that was it. Once the other trainers saw the pain he was in, they pulled him from the game. Coach didn’t argue at all.
I was angry, though. He should have known better. He should have sat that play out, iced it up, rested for the next game. He’d done good work already, and everyone had already been impressed. He hadn’t needed to risk himself even more.
I only hoped that the damage wasn’t bad. I could see some swelling, and it was clearly tender to the touch, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was out for the season. I guessed he’d miss at least one game.
After some treatment on the bench, they carried him back into the locker room. I went with them, staying on the periphery and paying close attention to the other trainers. I had a lot to learn still, and seeing how they reacted and what steps they took was a huge help to myself, and hopefully I’d be able to help Owen better in the future.
Assuming I even had a future with him and the team. If they found out that I’d kept an injury under wraps for him, I would be out on the street.
I was risking a lot for that asshole, but he wasn’t able to do anything for me. He had seen me tell him not to do it. He had seen me say the word, but he’d ignored me. I had known he would, but that still stung. He should have listened.
He got an X-ray almost immediately, which came out clean. There was no break, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have tendon damage. He was scheduled for an MRI the following day. The lead trainer taped his leg with ice, gave him some anti-inflammatory medication, and then left him to sit back and relax.
We were alone in the room. The game was still going on, so the other trainers had to get back on the field in case something else happened. He grinned at me.
“You’re pissed,” he said.
I nodded. “Damn right I am.”
I sat down on the table next to him, my legs dangling over the edge. He just smiled at me.
“Sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
“Yeah, I guess not.”
“You will be if that MRI comes back with some issues.”
“You’re right.”
“You saw me tell you not to do it.”
“I did.”
“And you did it anyway.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure I can explain.”
“Try anyway.”
“Football isn’t just a game for me. It’s my life, my legacy. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at. I can’t just back down when I have a challenge put in front of me on the field. That’s why I got to where I am.”
“I understand that,” I said, “but you’re thinking so short-term.”
“All football players think short-term,” he said, laughing. “Look at us. We put our bodies on the line for a sport. Our job is to inflict pain and punishment on other guys, all for your amusement. Everyone knows a football player sacrifices his body for the sport, and yet we do it anyway, because we believe in what the sport is.” He sighed, shaking his head again. “I can’t just back down. Injury or no injury, I won’t back down.”
I sat there looking at him, and I had to admit that I felt something. Maybe he was being stupid, but I was impressed. I respected him for that decision, even though I disagreed with everything about it.
Still, I was angry with him. He had ignored me when I’d directly told him not to do something that would injure his body. He knew I had my own career at stake here, and he’d only thought about himself out there.
“You’re not alone in this,” I said. “Maybe you’ve been alone before, but you’re not anymore.”
He stared at me for a second, his cocky smile leaving his face. He went to say something but was interrupted by a noise at the door.
We both looked over. Standing in the doorway was a man I didn’t recognize.
He was tall, though not as tall as Owen. He wore a business suit, an expensive-looking one, and his dark hair was cut short. He was muscular, though not as huge as Owen, and I could see hints of tattoos at the edge of his collar and near his shirt cuffs.
“Hello, Owen,” he said.
Owen’s face got serious. “Tony. What the fuck are you doing back here?”
“Just came to talk.”
“You’re not welcome.”
I looked at Owen. “Who is this?”
“He’s nobody,” Owen said, not looking away from the man.
“Please, ask your trainer to leave,” Tony said. “We need to talk.”
Owen stared at the man, and I could see that he was angry and uncomfortable. He didn’t want me around this guy, though I couldn’t tell why.
“Taylor,” he said after a second, “can you give us some privacy?”
I looked at him and nodded. “Fine. I’ll be back soon.”
“Sure.”
I stood up and headed toward the other door. I glanced back and saw the man moving into the room, and Owen’s face was even darker and angrier than before.
They began to talk softly as I headed out of the room. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t sound like a good conversation.
I’d never seen that guy before in my life. I’d been around the organization for a fair amount of time, but I’d never seen him before. I had no clue how he had gotten back here, but he must have been important if he could come and go like that.
Owen clearly knew him, and he clearly didn’t like him. That alone made me want to tell someone about the guy, but something about him was holding me back.
I headed back into the locker room to give Owen and the man a few minutes. I was angry with Owen anyway, and maybe he deserved to be a little uncomfortable.
The asshole needed to learn that he couldn’t just do whatever he wanted anymore, not when other people were depending on him.
18
Owen
It was bad enough that Taylor was annoyed with me. I didn’t need some mafia asshole to show up without announcing himself first on top of that.
“How did you get in here?” I asked him.
“You don’t get it yet, do you?” he asked as he sat down on a stool. “We can reach you anywhere, anytime.”
“What do you want? I have enough problems right now.”
“I know you do. Your team is about to lose.”
“How do you know that?”
“The Patriots scored on their next drive. Really, they scored on their first play.”
“Fuck,” I said. “
What happened?”
“Blown coverage in the secondary. Brady threw a bomb.”
“That goofy bastard. He has bad hair.”
Tony laughed. “Yes, he does. And a hot wife. But that doesn’t help your situation, now does it?”
“I’ll get your money.”
“You know, Owen, I like you. We’ve known each other for a long time now.”
“We have.”
“We’ve done a lot of good for you.”
“Not really. Not without getting an ounce of flesh.”
“We’re a business. We can’t just do things for free, can we?”
“Maybe not, but you come after me. I don’t want anything to do with you people.”
He smiled and shrugged. “That’s a good point.”
“And yet here you are, still pushing.”
“Let me explain something to you, Owen. We make our living by making people do things they don’t really want to do.”
“I know.”
“So why should it be different with you?”
“I paid you. We have no connection anymore.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
“Tell me what you want and then get out of here before the team comes back.”
He sighed and looked around. “Where did that girl go?”
“I don’t know. She left.”
“What was her name?”
“Don’t worry about her.”
“I’m not worried. She was pretty.”
“Don’t talk about her.” I wanted to get up and beat the fucking shit out of this bastard cunt. I would have, too, if it weren’t for my fucking knee.
Tony was a piece of shit, but he wasn’t a man to fuck around with.
Still, hearing him talk about Taylor set my fucking nerves on fire. Nobody talked about her, especially not some mafia cunt who was shaking me down. It was bad enough that he wanted to get my money from me, but he couldn’t fuck with her, too. I wasn’t going to allow it.
“No need to get upset,” Tony said, smiling at me. “I can see it on your face. You must like her.”