The Tight End: A New Adult Sports Romance ~ Casper (The Rookies Book 2)

by Zoë Lane

  I swallowed the lump that rushed up my throat. “Okay.” It was all I could get out. I reached for my coffee cup and swallowed the bitter drink. Should’ve dumped some sugar in it.

  “Well, Landyn’s told me a different story.”

  “Yeah, I noticed him talking to you before the game.”

  “Mm-hmm. And you know why most of the plays we practiced with you weren’t used.”

  I dropped my gaze. Silence settled between us. The soreness in my right shoulder was probably due to the weight of nothing being said. “You’re blaming me for our loss,” I said quietly.

  “Not at all, Casper—”

  My eyes rose to meet his. “But it’s part of it, right? Not doing the plays that would have been effective against them? That’s on me.”

  Coach Hicks rested his elbows on his knees, closing the distance between us. “There are plenty of factors. Things the whole team needs to work on. And what you’re dealing with isn’t a loss of talent or ability, or tightening up your game. Tell me what’s going on with your shoulder.”

  I subconsciously rolled my right shoulder. Damn my deteriorating body. “Hurts a little, that’s all. I’m managing it.”

  Coach Hicks nodded. “Okay, let’s have Dr. Benzoli look at it.”

  Perfect. “Saw him this morning. We did ice and heat therapy. Look, Coach, I think Landyn is just being overprotective. He was like this in school. When I...”

  Coach Hicks stared intently at me. Couldn’t tell if he could read my mind, but I didn’t want to remind him about the accident. He’d bench me.

  “Whenever I’d get hit too bad. Landyn is only as good as his receivers,” I said with a chuckle that died quickly at Coach Hicks’s unsmiling face. “I appreciate the concern, Coach, I do. I’m taking care of it.”

  “You took a very bad hit the other day. You had to be carried off the field.”

  Yeah, that wasn’t a good look.

  It’d been the first time I couldn’t get up on my own and walk off the field. I couldn’t stop the tears, the pain was so sharp. All the way into my chest. That evening, Dr. Benzoli had slipped me some strong pain medicine. So powerful I’d almost slept through my alarm and missed my appointment with him.

  “But I walked in here on my own today,” I said. “I had a good night’s sleep, and I’ll be doing some physical therapy and working on my movements. Should be good to go for the next game.”

  “Well, it’s a bye week this week, so you have a good two weeks to rest up. But I would still like Dr. Benzoli to do an X-ray, maybe an MRI, just to be sure.”

  I went cold and stiff. The only thing I could do was part my lips sand mumble, “Yes, sir.”

  He nodded. “And listen, Casper, you can talk to me. I’m not the bad guy here. We’re not looking to kick you off the team. We want you guys to succeed, but you can’t if you’re not healthy. We have the medical staff here to make sure you get the best treatment possible. Don’t hesitate to take advantage of that. The longer you wait, the worse injuries can get. Understood?”

  I nodded.

  I knew all of that. And, yeah, this wasn’t college where if you got kicked off the team, you could lose your scholarship. College was ruthless, but the NFL had its drawbacks as well. For starters, all the money I’d lose if I did get cut. Losing out on getting picked up by another team if I was on injured reserve to for too long.

  I can’t risk that. I’ve got this under control. It’s not as bad as before. I can handle it.

  “Okay, see you at practice, but don’t suit up. You’ll be on the sidelines.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  I walked out of that office feeling like I’d dodged a major bullet.

  Or a Mack truck.

  For a second time.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Ten messages from Billy.

  This Mack truck was coming around for a third strike.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CASPER

  I reached the tunnel and didn’t see Billy until I was almost at the entrance. “Okay, I’m here,” I said, slightly out of breath after coming down several flights of stairs and then running through the lower level to get to this very spot.

  Billy charged me. “Don’t you answer your phone?” he hissed, shoving me in the chest with one hand.

  I caught myself before my right shoulder hit the wall behind me. I glared at him, the pain shooting up through my neck, causing my hands to fist. “Watch it.”

  “Whatever, man. Look, I just had to give a urine sample.”

  “Yeah, so? I gave on last week.”

  “The drugs, you idiot!” He paced away from me, his hands raking through his hair. He was sweating. A lot.

  And he looked pale, and skinner than I had remembered.

  “What about them? The one I got from Dr. Benzoli is legit.”

  Billy stared at me from the opposite side of the tunnel. His eyes wide, and bloodshot. He was breathing heavily.

  Oh, shit.

  “What?” I whispered. Wasn’t sure if his silence meant he hadn’t heard me or he couldn’t say.

  “Look,” he said, finally finding his voice. “I...I don’t think it’s gonna be good for us.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “If I were you, I’d...I’d talk to your lawyer.”

  “You still haven’t told me what the hell is happening!”

  Billy got real close. “The drug’s been banned.”

  I hadn’t wanted to believe it the whole way down here, but I’d known. I’d never gotten ten frantic texts from a guy who was taking the same drug as me. What else could it be?

  I nodded, tongue numb, losing all ability to speak. I had to speak to someone. Not Coach Hicks. I had just been in his office and he’d know I’d kept something from him when I’d told him to his face that nothing was wrong and that I was handling it.

  Handling it.

  By taking banned drugs.

  I backed into the cold concrete wall and leaned against it, my line of sight going out to the green field. Workers mowing, maintaining the letters that spelled our team’s name in the end zone. Rows and rows of seats that stretched up into the sky. Those gold goalposts I’d run through after scoring on an opposing team. All I had ever wanted was to play football.

  And be with Em for the rest of my life.

  Now both dreams would die.

  “How long do you think they’ll suspend us for?” Billy’s nervous voice interrupted the sound of Em’s laughter in my head right before the Mack truck hit.

  “I dunno.” I shrugged. “We might get booted from the team.”

  “What? That can’t happen. I just put a down payment on...”

  His voice faded while I turned and walked back through the tunnel, Billy following me.

  “Casper! What are you going to do?”

  I didn’t know. Research a bunch of players who’d pissed hot and try to predict my chances. Probably get that MRI done and if it was really bad, I’d get sympathy for doing something really stupid. Voluntarily give up my spot on the second string—and my signing bonus—as a show of good faith.

  “I’m going to call a friend,” I said.

  “Who? Who are you going to call? I’m calling Dr. Benzoli. If it comes down to it, I’ll blame his ass. He’s gonna lose his license. I’ll have my lawyer sue him for everything. He won’t be able to treat rats after I’m done.”

  “Wouldn’t be able to treat them anyway because he’s not a vet,” I said dryly. I stopped in my tracks and faced Billy. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  He nodded, sweat still running down his face. Man, I was stone-cold dry.

  I waited until I was out of the building before pulling out my cell and dialing my agent, who said he’d set up a meeting with my lawyer later that afternoon.

  Then I dialed Landyn’s number.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  LACEY

  The only thing I remembered about my first and only appearance in court a few years ago w
as the Talismans smiling and hugging me for joy. My father had signed some paperwork and the judge had approved it.

  Carter Gallagher then walked out without ever speaking to me or looking back.

  Paige had said that would happen. That he wouldn’t want to keep me. She’d nearly choked me, she was holding me so hard. I was going home with the Talismans.

  It was a weird feeling. My only friend at the time, Paige Talisman, had asked if I felt free. If I was happy that I was going to live with her for the rest of high school. We’d stay in the same room; it would be a sleepover every night.

  Thing was, I didn’t feel free.

  Not at all.

  I was trading one prison for another. Only this one was filled with a strange feeling that I’d never known before. People hugging, laughter, rules but not being afraid of breaking them, a set dinnertime, clean sheets.

  I used to pretend that I came from a normal home, only I never invited anyone over. I’d act like I knew the latest fashion trends or how to kiss a boy with tongue. Paige was the first one I had told about my prison, and how I’d never leave with Landyn away at college.

  But Landyn had already been on it. He had asked Paige’s father to do him a huge favor; one he’d pay back with interest when he started for an NFL team.

  So Mr. Talisman did. He talked to our father—who didn’t need any convincing. He showed up at court when he had to, then walked away. I always wondered why it wasn’t done sooner. Why I hadn’t had the courage to speak until Paige.

  It’s like when you meet...uh, a kindred spirit. One you can trust, deep down, immediately. When Paige walked into my classroom the first day after she moved into town, it was like finding an angel. Only I didn’t know how much she would save me.

  Today wasn’t at all like the last time.

  “Ms. Gallagher, this court accepts your plea of no contest to the misdemeanor charge of possessing a false ID for the express purpose of obtaining alcohol, while underage.”

  Landyn stirred restlessly to my left. I glanced at him and saw his eyes narrow, his lips moving slightly. He was cursing under his breath.

  “However, your attorney has submitted to the court your statement of the actions that led to your hospitalization.”

  To my right, my lawyer nodded. He had suggested I write a statement about my abusive childhood, which I couldn’t really remember, and how my father’s recent television interview had driven me into some sort of situational depression, which had made me act out like any normal college student with one too many beers in her system.

  By giving a lap dance to one of the hottest guys on the Richmond Rhinos.

  I hadn’t included that last part.

  “And the court finds that, given the extreme diagnosis you’ve endured and the subsequent treatment you’ll continue to undergo, a first offense will require two thousand hours of community service and weekly meetings with a psychiatrist, documentation of which your attorney will submit to the court.”

  My attorney whispered to me that this was a good deal. Landyn looked flabbergasted.

  The judge put down the sheet of paper he was reading from. His glasses slid down his hawk-like nose and his dark eyes tacked me to my chair. “You have a long road ahead of you, both emotionally and physically. I’m satisfied that it, along with the court’s sentence, will be enough for you to consider the path of your life going forward. Each choice leads to the next. Do you want a happy life, or a miserable one?”

  I’d never known a happy one, so why mess with a good thing?

  “Your Honor?” Landyn shot up from his seat. My attorney stretched out a hand to stop him, but the judge put a hand up and allowed Landyn to continue. “Your Honor, since I’m—”

  “If you’re going to say the quarterback for the Richmond Rhinos, save it.” He picked up the gavel.

  “Sir, I would like to ask the court to approve my sister doing her community service hours at our headquarters.” The judge placed the gavel back on the mahogany block. “There will be a lot of manual labor she could do, if...if that’s what it’s supposed to be,” he stammered. “She will be living with me indefinitely. It’s in a safe building, and I promise she won’t cause any more trouble.”

  The judge’s gaze vaulted between me and Landyn, who continued to stand.

  He was always between me and my giants. Facing the man he said had thrown me against a wall when I was a child. The man he couldn’t believe I wanted to have a relationship with.

  And still do.

  At the center, the doctor had given me assignments and even put me under hypnosis in one session to get me to remember what had happened to me. None of it had worked. I had fallen asleep during hypnosis. Doctor was worried about my lack of emotion for nearly everything.

  I had no fears.

  Except for cigarettes. I couldn’t be near them, couldn’t look at them whenever someone would light one up. One time I had broken out in hives when a kid at school pulled a pack out of his back pocket and offered me and everyone else in our group one.

  It was unexplainable, really. Who’s afraid of cigarettes?

  Doc told me it was a real thing. Capnophobia.

  Sounded made up to me.

  “I’ll allow it,” the judge finally answered. “On the condition that you attend her probation visits as well. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Landyn said loudly, like he was relieved and excited at the same time.

  He didn’t just agree to babysit me weekly. What about his away games?

  I gazed up at him from my seat. He smiled down at me and then settled into his seat, his shoulders relaxed, his grin widening. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I’d always felt sort of silly when he would do that. Almost felt like giggling.

  So I still had some feelings. I loved to see my brother happy.

  And I hated my father.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CASPER

  “Do you have any idea what the hell this means?” Zane Meyers, my attorney, yelled across the desk where I sat in his office to discuss the future loss of my position.

  “That’s why I’m here,” I said in a steady voice. “To discuss what this means.”

  Zane guffawed, then laughed ironically. “I can’t believe this! Please tell me what the hell you were thinking. This is your job, Casper. Did you honestly think you weren’t going to get caught? The NFL is testing like crazy now. All of you are doping.”

  “I...I wasn’t doping for the sake of getting bigger or anything.”

  Zane leaned forward, his bushy brows coming together, his voice another octave higher. “You think management’s gonna give a damn about your excuse? Drugs are drugs to them.”

  I sighed and furiously scratched my head, although it wasn’t itching. I didn’t have an answer for that one. “The drug wasn’t banned when I was taking it.”

  “It’s banned now!”

  “I know!” I let my head fall back, and out came another sigh.

  “Why were you taking the drug in the first place?”

  I pointed to my right shoulder. “My shoulder. Had an injury to my rotator cuff during college, and I think I’ve injured it again. The pain’s been getting worse.”

  “And the drug was like, what? Some miracle pill to take away the pain?”

  “No. It’s supposed to help with mobility and energy levels. I thought if I was to continue playing at the same level—”

  “No one would know you’re broken,” he finished harshly.

  I stiffened. I’d heard that word used back when I was in college. “I wasn’t broken. I...I just needed some time to heal, that’s all. It was all under doctor’s orders.”

  Zane raised his brows. “Good. Good, we’ll use that, although it’s not like it’s going to matter much. Maybe we can argue for an extended suspension as opposed to being cut from the team. Get the doctor to fall on his sword, or push him down on it.”

  Push the doctor onto his own sword. The thought was kind of terrifying. My attorney
savagely scrawled his pen across a notepad. I scooted back a little in my chair.

  “Wouldn’t he get fired, too?”

  Zane chuckled. “With any luck. He’s supposed to assist in supervising your care. If we can show he was negligent—”

  “I’m not the only one,” I cut in. “Another teammate was given the drugs by Dr. Benzoli.”

  Zane looked up from his notepad. “Really? Who? How many others.”

  I hesitated to say Billy’s name. Sure, there was attorney-client privilege, but somehow I felt this was all wrong.”

  “Casper, listen to me,” he began in a low, comforting tone “I know what you’re thinking, but we have to strategize here. Do you want to lose your job? I guarantee you whoever else got caught up in the test is going to have their lawyer and manager use every available tactic to keep their job.”

  “It’s just...Dr. Benzoli has been...”

  His shoulders rapidly rose then fell. “What? Has what? Does he have some sob story I’m sure he’ll use to save his own ass? You’re going to let him do that?”

  I stared at him for a few seconds. His half-exasperated, half-shocked expression didn’t change. “You don’t have any empathy—”

  “Let me tell you what empathy gets you, son.” Zane threw down his pen and pointed a finger at me. “Empathy lets the drunk driver, who was only wasted because his wife died, get away with not paying the medical expenses for a child that was paralyzed because he ran into a minivan with a family on their way to Disney World for the first time. The girl will never walk again. She’ll have to be cared for twenty-four seven for the rest of her life. Then her parents get a divorce because they’re exhausted over having to care for her, and their other three kids, not to mention the mountain of medical debt they’re under, which affects the husband’s performance at his job—from which he’s summarily fired—and then the mother goes on welfare because the father can’t pay child support, and it goes on and on and on.”

  I sat frozen.

  “Fuck your empathy,” he spat. “You take that drunk driver to the cleaners. You take his house, his 401k plan, his pension. You want to keep your job, boy? Or do you want to have the plague? Because that’s how every team is going to treat you when you’re cut. They’re not going to want to touch you because you’re a problem child. Now what do you want to do?”