by Zoë Lane
“A consultant?” I laughed. “Like that makeup stuff with the pink Cadillac? No, thanks. I’ve got enough to do with the team.”
Billy rolled his eyes. “Thanks, bro. Not everyone can be first string like you.”
“That’s not what I meant, man.”
Billy slapped me on the back.
Again with the sharp pain. It was starting to feel like a giant needle slowly being pushed into bone.
“Just messing with you. But seriously, I’ll get the marketing materials together and do a brief demo if you want. I’ll even give you a sample. You’re gonna love the product.”
“That’s how a lot of us met,” the golfer spoke up. “Then we get together at each other’s houses for parties and shit. I’m having one next weekend. There will be women.” He winked.
“Weren’t there supposed to be some here?” Billy asked, looking around the room.
“Heard Mrs. Kavoska nixed it at the last minute. Marital troubles,” Bat said in a low voice.
Didn’t matter to me. There was only one woman on my mind. I casually distanced myself from the group and walked through the rooms.
No Siobhan.
Maybe she had Phillip take her home.
Phillip.
Was more sex part of their relationship plan?
I grabbed a drink off a tray too fast and nearly caused the entire thing to tip over onto the server. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
I thought better of it and set the drink on the nearest table. I was driving.
Instead, I spent the rest of the evening laughing at stupid jokes about people having too much money and not enough women to spend it on until I found a pool table in the basement.
Replacing Landyn for Billy was not the best choice. As long as Rose was in the picture, I would be spending my nights in front of the tv playing video games.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CASPER
“I think Siobhan was right, but I would caution you about taking advice from someone who isn’t a medical professional. You can put your shirt on now.”
Dr. Michael Benzoli stepped away from the examining table I was seated on and began typing into a laptop situated on a raised platform.
Careful with my arm, I put my shirt back on and slid off the table.
“She’s a licensed physical therapist,” I argued gently. No need to piss off the team doctor and have him be overly cautious and put me on the injured reserve. “Aren’t they allowed to write prescriptions? Or at least give their opinion?”
“Their opinion, yes. Write prescriptions?” Dr. Benzoli laughed. “No. If Siobhan is acting like she’s a doctor, then she’s grossly overstepped her bounds.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I rushed to say.
“Either way, you probably got the wrong impression of her duties from her. I’ve known some PTs in my time that think they know the body better than a trained doctor.”
Great. Now Siobhan would be under a microscope because of my big mouth. “No, really, Doc it was my fault. She told me to see you about a prescription. My bad for being unclear.”
Dr. Benzoli looked over the thick rims of his reading glasses, which neared the tip of his rather large nose. Big bushy brows came together over dark eyes that gazed at me with suspicion.
I held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor. It was my misunderstanding. I majored in business in college, so what do I know about medicine.” I forced a chuckle to ease the tension.
Dr. Benzoli smiled. “Okay, then. I think an anti-inflammatory is really all you need, unless you’re in more pain than you’re letting on.”
I was a master at faking the amount of pain I was in. It was how I had been cleared for physical therapy earlier than doctors predicted, how I had gotten released from the hospital about a month sooner, and how I’d convinced the coaching staff at Southwestern to give me another tryout for the sophomore year. I had played through the pain until the pain surrendered and nothing but a mild form of tightness remained—which was easily conquered by a few regularly targeted workouts in the gym.
“Nah, Doc. I really want to play. Guess this was more preventative than anything, really.”
“Hmm.” He’d gone back to viewing his screen and then flipping through my paper chart. “You had an accident freshman year, didn’t you?”
“Right at the start, yeah,” I said, shifting my feet. Couldn’t he just write me the prescription so I could leave? Siobhan was right: just some minor inflammation that could be cured with rest and a pill. I hated taking drugs, but whatever. I’d hate losing my spot on the team more.
“Tore your rotator cuff.”
“Uh, yeah. Car got twisted around and so did my arm.”
Dr. Benzoli winced. “Ooo. Bet that was no fun.”
Yeah it was no fun. My wife died.
Staring at me.
Still smiling from the joke I’d just told because I thought I was the funniest damn person in the world. Should’ve been paying attention to the road, and instead, I’d been stroking my own ego with a stupid joke I’d known she’d laugh at—further boosting my ego because I was a stupid kid who’d needed all of that shit.
But sure, my arm hurt.
“Like hell,” I said. “Never knew a worse pain,” I lied. There was absolutely no pain on earth worse than having your heart shredded, then sliced into a million pieces and scattered all over the cement street with the glass that had cut through your wife’s soft skin, leaving her looking like zombies had had a feeding frenzy.
Nothing.
On.
Earth.
“Not even a broken bone?”
“Wish I had broken a bone compared to that.”
“Ah, yeah. Depending on the type of break, people say that’s much easier to rehab.”
Any of them talk about rehabbing your heart? Because it never ends. The first six months is like a fog. You don’t know where you’re going or where you’ve been. You’re just walking, suffocating in the denseness, losing all hope after a few days because you can’t see a thing and don’t expect a way out.
The next six months, you begin to recognize people you remember—if you do—from before the fog settled in your mind. But you still can’t connect with them like you used to, remnants of the fog taking forever to dissipate.
Year two is when you’re tricked into thinking you’ve made it through the stages of grief, but you’re just angry at that point. Especially after you’ve rehabbed your shoulder for so long all you want to do is get on the field and play, because you know that’s a reliable outlet to lose yourself in. Football is a mistress that never disappoints. Always something to do, always a way to grow. Never stops being thrilling.
Then you start to recall that song about tomorrow and how the sun will come out, only it takes about three years for the clouds to break. And when you feel the heat of its rays, your heart burns until new fissures are made, reminding you that it was too soon. The heart was too tender.
Then year four. After winning multiple football championships with your best friend and getting the call from the GM that you’re going to be a tight end in the NFL, your heart now longs for the warmth of the sun.
I guess I really did love tomorrow...
“Thankfully, I’ve never broken a bone. How about that prescription, Doc?” Dr. Benzoli gave me that searching look again. I raised my brows and smiled. “Sorry for rushing you. I want to try and get a quick workout in before practice.”
Dr. Benzoli nodded once. “I’ll give you one that should last no more than a week. Don’t think you’ll need more than that.”
“Good.”
“Should be in the system now. You can pick it up at from Dolly at the front.”
“Great, thanks.”
I snatched my jacket from a nearby chair and left the examination room.
If this pain lasted through our next game, I would need more than these pills and a few extra massages.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CASPER
I did my best
not to touch any part of my right side. Landyn had been eyeing me like a hawk during our workout. It didn’t matter how many times I brushed him off or told him to think of anything but my shoulder; Landyn was resolute in his helicopter duties, checking in on me, asking how I felt, making me feel like I was back in the hospital getting babied after the accident.
And he was the person who had annoyed me the least.
We hadn’t known each other long before the accident. Just during the summer off-season, when we had practiced. I’d told him about Emily, and he’d balked at the thought of me marrying my high school sweetheart and never sleeping with another woman again, let alone Emily being my first and only. He’d said I was crazy, and that it wouldn’t last.
He could barely look me in the eye the day after the accident.
He was right. It didn’t last; just ended in a way he would’ve never expected.
His guilt was nothing compared to my own.
I felt a tiny prick of guilt that I had excluded my best friend from this, but I didn’t want him to worry. He had enough on his hands leading the team without having to cope with my shoulder being injured again.
Billy walked into the steam room where I sat waiting for him. “Here, take this. It’s better than what the doc gave you. Guarantee you’ll be one hundred percent by the end of the week.”
One hundred percent. That’s what I needed. I had doubled up on the anti-inflammatory after two days, when my shoulder had stiffened more and the pain had worsened. I’d struck a deal with Mike that had me buying him an expensive watch, the next generation of sneakers by The Rock, and a few other items if he just lightly hit me or even missed a couple of tackles. He’d urged me to talk to the coach and doctor, but in the end, he could be bought.
I took the bottle from Billy, who’d been on the receiving end of Mike’s hits before. “Epotin,” I read the label. “Sounds familiar.”
“Yeah, it’s just an EPO. Enhances the natural levels of oxygen in our blood. Nothing crazy. And, no, it’s not a steroid.”
“This is what you sell?”
He gave me a look that made me feel like I had just asked a really stupid question. “Absolutely. You can ask Dr. Benzoli if you’re not sure. He’ll tell you it’s legit.”
I stopped my eyes from rolling in time and continued perusing the label. “Side effects?” I’d taken a lot of drugs after the car accident. Some of them had made me so sick I’d vomited everywhere. Others had made me feel so out of it I couldn’t remember my own name. If this one did anything more than give me a mild headache, I wouldn’t be able to use it.
And I’d be back in the doctor’s office and possibly on the injured reserve list.
Getting hit by Mike couldn’t keep me from my dreams for the rest of my life. Not after being invited to Combine, where so many guys fail out. Not after getting drafted by the Rhinos, when hundreds of others never get the call.
And definitely not after surviving the first two weeks with a team when so many get cut.
What else would I do? Work in business? Doing what? All I had was football.
“Better breathing, for one. You’ll probably notice it if you do any running. Looser joints and muscles. I don’t sell or use anything else. It’s low-risk.”
“Need to check the ban list.”
“Already did. It’s not on there, so we’re good.”
I eyed Billy, who didn’t break my stare. He didn’t seem like he was after my position. Coach Hicks had given him some play time last week. Billy had talent, and he was fast, but he wasn’t me. I was going to check the banned substance list anyway.
“You think I’d risk my career?” Billy asked. “You think the doctor would risk our careers and his own? I’m second to you. I can’t make any mistakes. I barely edged out Jackson for second string.”
True.
Competition between Billy and our third-string TE Jackson had been more than tight. One catch was all that it took for Billy to be named second.
“Talk to the doctor if you want to check it out or even get more. He’ll probably write you a prescription. It’s really geared more toward your overall health.”
I laughed. “Dr. Benzoli would flip if he knew I went to you first for anything medicinally related.”
“He’s the type. I tried to say something about how blood works, and he pointed to his Harvard Medical diploma on the wall and asked me which medical school did I graduate from,” Billy said dryly.
I laughed even harder. “The man’s ego. Don’t try to say anything about medicine. He hates people who give opinions about it without the ‘proper training,’” I said the last couple of words in my best Dr. Benzoli impersonation.
“Yeah, I learned my lesson, for sure.”
“Hey, thanks, man, I owe you one.”
“Forget about it. Let’s just have a good game tomorrow.” Billy exited the steam room.
I waited for another minute before leaving too. Most of the locker room had cleared out, and I could dress in peace. I grabbed my phone from the locker and saw a message from Landyn. He was going to have Rose over for dinner and wanted to cancel our plans for carb-loading—mainly just pigging out—before tomorrow’s game. I was good with being ditched for his new girl. The only reason Landyn wanted me over was to monitor my shoulder’s progress. In some ways, he was worse than my mother.
No worries. Have a good night, I texted him back.
Tonight I’d read, or go to bed early. Tomorrow was the game against Philly, and I had to be at my best. I rolled my shoulders and winced at the pain. Tomorrow would come.
I’d stretch, take a pill, and win.
CHAPTER NINE
LANDYN
I’d never been more gentle...or more ravenous. I half-worried that I had gone too fast too soon and hurt her, ignoring how many times she’d lost all control. Very sensitive. How she had managed to smile afterwards plagued my thoughts about as much as Casper’s shoulder.
Good thing I was able to block the latter while in the act. I couldn’t think of anything worse than thinking of your best friend’s shoulder while making love to the woman you love for the first time.
I shivered.
“Cold?” Rose snuggled against my side. “Mmm, you don’t feel cold.”
Her hand slowly glided over my chest, one finger circling my nipple and—dammit—I was hard again. I knew this was her first time—and I was sensitive to that—but she was going to have to get used to the frequency sooner rather than later.
“Just thinking about something...unpleasant.”
She propped herself up on an elbow. Dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, half-hiding her frowning face. “Was it me? I’m sorry! I don’t know—”
I leaned up and kissed her mouth before she could say exactly what wasn’t on my mind. “I was thinking about Casper.” I chuckled.
Her face contorted in slight disgust. “Why?”
I sighed loudly and plopped back down. “Yeah, I know.” Then I met her eyes and said emphatically, “Not during. I swear. I was thinking of only you. It was all about you.”
I felt her body warming against mine and she dipped her head. “Well...good,” she said softly.
I reached for the back of her neck and brought her down to my lips. “Are you in pain?”
She shook her head and kissed me.
“You sure?”
“I think I would know,” she answered, kissing me again.
My right hand squeezed one of her ass cheeks, and I slid her on top of me. She was ready.
Rose giggled. “I’m incredibly happy.” She leaned down and planted a soft kiss against my lips, hers lingering a moment before drawing back.
“Will you stay tonight?” Why did my voice shake? Now, I was nervous.
Technically, nervous again.
It’s one thing not to care about your performance when screwing a girl you don’t really care about, and quite another when it’s the one you love. I’d already stopped myself a few times from asking Rose�
�s opinion.
She shrugged. “Hmm, maybe.” Her mouth spread into a vicious grin. I liked it when she teased because now I could punish her for it.
“Oh, so this is a one-night stand, is that it?”
“We should probably keep things professional.”
Her hand began a downward path past my belly button. I groaned at the contact and she wrapped her fingers around my length.
“At least some of the time,” she whispered against my lips.
“Is that what I am to you?” I continued, as though I hadn’t heard her, and her hand wasn’t mastering me. “Just a hot body that—”
“Ugh!” She rolled her eyes and her body off of me. “I can’t believe you just called yourself hot.”
“Not me! I’m quoting all the magazines I’m no longer on the cover of,” I said dryly. She avoided all attempts to grab her hand.
She bellowed. “Do you miss being the center of every woman in Richmond’s attention? I saw Sean on one the other day. The hot RB that’s making all the great plays. Jealous?”
I wrapped my arms around her and brought her ass close to my hips. “No,” I whispered into her ear. “Fuck Sean. Without me, he’s nothing. And there’s only one woman’s attention I want.”
She rotated her face to look into my eyes. “You have it,” she whispered back and kissed me. “Besides, I’m all moved into my new place. I can come and go as I please.”
“Screw your mother’s curfew.”
She lifted a fist in the air. “Screw it!”
“Dork.”
“Jock.”
I roughly took her mouth, lashing her tongue with my own. I twisted her until I felt her breasts smash against my chest. I lifted her left leg up and over my hip, sliding my right leg between her thighs.
“Why are you thinking about Casper?” she asked when I started to explore the already-familiar territory of her right earlobe.
Eh, now I wasn’t.
I rested on my back, bringing her slight frame up onto mine. “Ever since he got hit by Mike in practice, he’s been a little off.”