Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
West
D ay one of training camp is always nothing but meetings. Day two, more instruction. Then, there’s day three.
Today.
The day the coaches do everything in their power to kick our asses.
“Nice job out there, QB.”
I open my eyes as hot water from the shower runs down my face. Glancing back over my shoulder, it’s Nash who nods at me.
“Thanks, man.”
“Don’t thank me. You fucking killed out there.”
Getting praise from the team has taken some getting used to, but it’s become a regular thing since going head-to-head with Reed on the sleds.
“At this rate, we’re gonna have one hell of a year,” Nash adds, and the rest of the team don’t hesitate to go in on him.
“What the fuck, man?”
“Perfect. Way to fucking jinx us.”
All the guys’ responses sound something like this, and a laugh slips out as I run the bar of soap beneath my arms.
“We’re superstitious now?” Nash shoots back, and he should’ve just kept his mouth shut.
“Yes!” and “ Fuck yes!” are the team’s collective responses, and I couldn’t agree more. I’ve known guys who refuse to wash their jockstraps for weeks because they honestly believed it would ruin their team’s hot streak.
“Whatever,” Nash grumbles, and I turn toward the tile again, continuing to wash. With my face away from the rest of the team, I let the faint smile slip, giving way to the pained expression I’ve been holding out since about half a hour into stepping onto the practice field today. My shoulder is completely done, and it’s fucking with my head.
How the fuck am I supposed to get through a game, a season, and I already feel like a damn freight train careened into me? I’m numb, lost in my head as the guys carry on conversation behind me. I finish washing, rinse my hair and body, then shut off the water. On the way to my locker, I pass by Reed. His glare means he must’ve heard Nash’s praise, and he’s being a pussy about it. When he slams his locker and storms past, that’s confirmation. I’m pretty sure no one else notices he’s in his feelings but me as he exits the locker room.
But I’ve got bigger problems than a team member’s fragile emotions.
At the thought of it, I grip my shoulder and work it a bit. It’s hot to the touch, getting more sore as the seconds tick past. In my head, I hear my brothers giving me shit about it, asking when I’m going to get it checked out again, but I’m curious where anyone thinks that fits into my life at the moment.
Especially with Pandora’s nosey ass.
If Coach Wells gets wind that something’s not right with me, that the shoulder is still giving me trouble, who the hell knows how he’d react. Besides, during recovery, the docs advice was to manage my pain and focus on strengthening it. I’m doing all the strength training I can fit in right now, which means it may be time to focus on the other aspect.
Pain management.
“I can see it now,” Chase says, and I glance over my shoulder at him just as he faces his locker and drops his towel. “This season’s about to be insane. It already feels like we’re meshing with you guys’ play style, and it’s only going to get better the more we practice and play together.”
His reference, you three, is what alerts me to Dane and Sterling joining us—Dane, toweling his hair dry; Sterling, wiping excess water from his face.
“From your lips to God’s ears,” Sterling laughs.
“I vote we keep the good vibes flowing and go grab drinks,” Jett suggests, but Chase is already groaning.
“Wish I could, but I’ve gotta get back to Bianca.”
I recall finally having the mystery of who Bianca is being solved, but I still don’t know the rest of the story there. Not other than it seeming like he’s raising her on his own. Then again, I could have all the details wrong, but I’m not about to pull at that thread.
“Next time then,” Jett says, then slams his locker before propping a foot on the bench to tie his shoes. “Guess I’ll go drink by myself, like a fucking man.”
The guys laugh, then he salutes us on his way out of the locker room.
“I’m out, too,” Chase announces, glancing at the time on his phone. “Shit, the sitter’s gonna chew me out about being late again. Catch you all in the morning.”
He doesn’t wait for anyone’s response as he takes off so fast I’m not entirely sure he didn’t start sprinting out of the building and through the parking structure to his truck.
I pull on my boxers and jeans, and I’ve got my t-shirt halfway over my head when Dane takes a breath beside me. And just as I was starting to think no one noticed how today wore me down…
“So, are we gonna talk about it or what?”
“Nope.” I don’t even look at him, slipping my keys and phone into the pockets of my jeans.
“Thing is, whether we talk about it or not, we both saw you favoring your shoulder,” Sterling chimes in, and I fucking hate being outnumbered.
“I’m fine.”
Seems like I’m having to say that shit a lot these days, because every time I turn around, either one of these two are on my case again, or it’s Blue. It never seems to register with any of them that I’m managing on my own.
“Besides, I wasn’t favoring it. I was being mindful of not fucking it up, overplaying on the offseason. That’s all,” I lie, knowing good and damn well I was definitely favoring it.
My mind races, picturing this ticking clock that’s winding down on how long I can keep this up. While I’d like to think I’m still healing… I’m starting to wonder if it’s more than that.
Football has been such a huge part of my life for my whole life, the thought of having it taken away from me scares the shit out of me. It’s how I take care of my family, how I keep myself sane. If I ever had to give it up…
Dane sighs, and I feel him about to get on my case again. “All I’m saying is, don’t put this off until it’s too late, West. This season’s too important to?—”
“Don’t you think I fucking know that shit?”
My voice carries, echoing through the locker room. Only now have the others’ gazes shifted toward us. This started as a private conversation, and while it’s still unclear why my brothers and I are disagreeing, I’m already regretting letting my emotions get the best of me.
“Damn it!”
Thoroughly annoyed, I grab my things and slam my locker on my way out, leaving my brothers standing there like the two assholes they are. I don’t need this shit every time they see I’m in pain.
I make it to my truck, but everything around me feels like a blur. I hardly remember the walk to the parking structure, because all I can hear are the words of my brothers cycling through my head on repeat. I punch the steering wheel, ignoring the surge of pain the motion sends shooting through my shoulder. I’m pissed, but not even at my brothers. I’m pissed at me.
For not being whole.
For potentially fucking up the opportunity of a lifetime here in Cypress Pointe.
For not seeing this coming.
Life has this way of shitting on me when things start getting too good. I married the woman of my dreams, my soulmate, and we haven’t been able to grow our family. Then, I got Coach’s invitation to move back to my hometown, and can’t even fucking play at full strength because of my damn shoulder.
I don’t even realize I’m panting until I actively try to settle down. Losing my shit won’t solve anything. What I need is a plan, an action I can take that might actually fix things.
Fix… me.
My phone’s already in hand, and I hate that I’m dialing the one number I probably don’t need to dial right now. But before I can hang up…
“Long time no hear from, Captain,” Tripp says on the other end of the line.
Despite knowing I shouldn’t have called, I smile a little, simply because he’s a familiar voice, and I kind of need that right now, something familiar to ground me.
“Hey, man. You good?”
He laughs into the phone, and I hear his video game go silent in the background. In this moment, I realize he’s not a whole lot different from when we used to run the ball together in high school and college.
Which seems equal parts blessing and curse.
“What’s up? I hear you’re back in CP. That a permanent move or are you just trying things out for a bit?”
He pauses to take a hit of something, sucking in a deep breath.
“It’s permanent.”
I hope.
Keeping that last part to myself, I shake the thought from my head. “But hey, I’m kind of in need of something.”
When he chuckles into the phone, I know he’s read between the lines. “Say no more. How many ounces? I’m loaded over here.”
He supplied my brothers and I during every off season, but… weed isn’t what I’m looking for this time.
“Unless you’re into stronger shit these days?”
“No, I… I just need something to take the edge off. Something to get me through.”
Something to take the pain away, so I can get back to being me.
If my brothers have noticed so easily, it’s just a matter of time before Coach notices, too, and all of this, everything , will have been for nothing.
“Say no more,” he repeats, and my heart’s racing. “Stop by. I’ll hook you up. You should hang out for a while, so we can catch up.”
I nod, and when I squeeze the back of my neck, a thin layer of sweat dampens it.
“For sure. Be there in twenty.”
“Perfect. Sending the address now.”
“Thanks.”
The call ends, but my eyes don’t leave my phone.
What the fuck am I actually doing?
The house is completely dark when I step inside. I didn’t mean to stay out so long, but that can be chocked up to paranoia. With Pandora’s followers itching for content, itching to be the first to run to her with a scoop, I had to make my visit with Tripp look completely innocent, like nothing more than old friends catching up.
I close and latch the door behind me, hearing nothing but my own footsteps echoing through the hallway off the garage. Once my eyes adjust, I notice a pale glow coming from the living room, and I can guess that’s where I’ll find Blue. My heart races, having to face her, knowing where I’ve been all afternoon.
Knowing how it might break her heart if she knew.
Don’t think like that. You’re doing this for her, for your career. And it ends as soon as you’re healed and don’t need it anymore.
My heart’s in my throat when I approach the archways of the living room, passing between two pillars as I stare at my wife. She’s dead asleep. So deep she hasn’t even stirred since I walked in. She’s curled up beneath a blanket, letting cheap reality TV watch her while she rests.
My fingertips graze the side of her face, pushing long, blonde strands aside. Before she even opens her eyes, she grins, knowing my touch.
“Hey, you,” she rasps, and I smile watching her stretch like a newborn baby.
“Hey, feeling okay?”
She nods, and I recall how the first day of the hormone shots always tires her out. Although, it only gets slightly better after this.
“I planned to make dinner, but I laid down to rest, and I guess I overslept.”
I drop down onto the other end of the couch, pulling her feet into my lap. That grin on her face grows when I press my thumbs into the center of her soles, massaging them.
“Don’t apologize. How was your day?”
She shrugs, and her eyes drift closed again. “It was mostly good. I spent a few hours at the center, then April texted.”
I can feel her tense up the moment she mentions that name. “What’d she want?”
Blue exhales sharply, settling deeper beneath the blanket. “There’s some team event coming up. A gala or something. She wants me to work on securing a bartender for the venue.”
I arch a brow, wondering if April hasn’t done her research about Blue’s family. But then I remember who we’re dealing with. If she’s anything like her husband, this shit was absolutely intentional.
Yes, let’s ask the alcoholic’s daughter to be in charge of the bar.
Super thoughtful.
I stand, placing a kiss on Blue’s forehead, keeping these thoughts to myself. It wouldn’t do her any good to get even more pissed off about it.
“I’ll be back in a bit. I’m gonna grab dinner and get some food in you. Rest.”
Before I can slip away, she grips my hand, yawning again. “Honestly, I just want to sleep this off.” She smiles, her eyes fluttering for half a second before they close. “Just… go get into something fun. I don’t want you sitting around the house bored while I snore.” Another smile curves her lips.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
My gaze lingers on her a moment, then I lean in to place a kiss on her forehead. “I’m gonna go change, then see if the guys are busy.”
“Good. Have fun.”
I tousle Blue’s hair a bit as I walk past, grabbing the duffle bag I’d left by one of the pillars before I came to sit with her. I carry it to the bedroom with me and place it on the bed while I swap out my shirt for one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and Tripp’s German Shephard.
But my eyes are locked on the side zipper. The question I asked myself after ending the call with Tripp comes back to me, and I’m even more convinced I’m losing my shit. Just a few months ago, I wouldn’t have even considered doing what I did today, because that version of myself knew better.
Knew I had too much to lose.
And… thank God, that guy has suddenly found his voice inside my head.
Before I can tune him out, I grab the pack of pills, head straight into the bathroom, then dump them into the toilet. I push the lever to flush and watch the biggest mistake I almost made swirl out of sight.
I’m still shaken by what I nearly did tonight, so I pull out my phone and message the group chat with the guys.
West: Cool if I come through, Ricky? You’re at the club tonight, right?”
Ricky: I am, and of course. I’ll have Diego bring you up to the office when you get here.
Dane: On my way.
Sterling: Count me in, too. I could use a drink.
And just like that, I’m reminded I don’t need pills to get through this shit.
All I need is my family.
Like always.