Chapter Eighteen
Dev
Six months later
“How’s the shoulder?” Brody asked when I came through the door, having taken a car upstate after my PT session in the city.
I grunted.
“That doesn’t tell me anything,” Brody pressed, and I huffed out a sigh.
“It’s the same as it was last week after I came home. It’s fine.” I kicked my sneakers across the room. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”
I stormed across the living room to the bar, picked up the bottle of tequila, and splashed at least two shots in the glass. It exploded in my mouth, burned my throat, but warmed my stomach. Brody’s scent surrounded me, and he put his arms around my waist. I leaned into his naked chest. My support and rock. I couldn’t have gone through this without him to come home to.
“Even to me? We always talk about everything. But ever since the Super Bowl, you’ve shut me out.”
I closed my eyes, pain crashing into my heart. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I just hate that I disappointed everyone—the fans, the team, myself…I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Brody kissed my neck. “Dev. You were injured. It happens. You didn’t let anyone down.”
Brody meant well, but his words didn’t register. “In the first quarter? I sure as hell did. I screwed up. It never should’ve happened. I keep going over the play in my head, and I saw Marlon wide open. I was setting up to throw, and then the next thing I knew, I was lying on a stretcher in an ambulance.”
The diagnosis was a concussion and a strained shoulder. Thank God no ligament damage or torn muscle occurred, but I was taken out of the game. My state of mind was another thing as I’d watched the Kings lose the Super Bowl, 35-17.
“I know. And it sucks. But we’re ready for training camp next month. The doctors cleared you, right?”
I gulped the rest of the tequila. “Yeah. My email is blowing up with requests for interviews about my ‘readiness.’” Did I sound bitter? Maybe because I was. “One major injury in all the years I’ve been playing, and they’re on me like a pack of wolves. Bastards.”
“Let Fallon or Ezra handle it.” Brody took my hand. “Come sit with me.”
I allowed him to walk me to the couch, and I lay with my head in his lap. We’d spent the entire winter and spring up here, hidden away from everyone while I did PT and saw a shrink.
“I’m really okay, baby. I’m anxious to get to camp and show all these assholes how ready I am. My arm is good, the MRI on my head is totally normal, and I just want to get on the field and stop all the rumors.”
“What rumors?” Brody’s hesitancy had me sitting up.
“Come on. Don’t lie to me. You never have before. I’ve seen the articles. Is this the Devil’s last year as a King? Are the Kings going to trade the Devil and use the rookie? ”
“Since when do you pay attention to sports gossip?”
“Since it’s negative about me.” I laughed without humor.
“Well, I’m positive you’re the sexiest man alive, and I love you.” Brody’s lips hit mine.
I closed my eyes and let Brody’s mouth work its magic. He licked my neck, bit my ear, and nibbled at my collarbone. With a tug to my shirt, I pulled it over my head and wriggled out of my shorts, my cock already hard and throbbing.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain in the ass.” I played with his hair, winding it around my fingers as he sucked and licked my dick. His reddish-brown head bobbed, his tongue licking my shaft. My hips rolled, and Brody hummed as he took me to the back of his throat, the vibration sparking bursts of fire through me.
“Brody, God,” I moaned, the tension rising, my orgasm beginning to break through, my body twitching and shivering.
The bastard released me and sat up. His reddened lips smiled, and his flushed face brightened. “I need you in me.”
It took me a moment to catch my breath and get my brain cells working. “Get naked,” I ordered, pointing at his shorts. I licked my lips as his thick cock was revealed, and couldn’t resist running my hand along the hefty length. “So gorgeous. So mine.”
I grabbed for the lube on the coffee table and spread some on my fingers, then pushed them into his ass. Brody’s groan split the air, but I couldn’t play with him for more than a minute—I was bursting with need and had to have him. Now.
Brody climbed on top of me, lined himself up, and sank so slowly, pleasure mixed with the pain of holding myself off from thrusting hard. I clutched his hips, watching the play of emotions across Brody’s face, his mouth panting and gasping, his Adam’s apple moving as he gulped air. Despite the air conditioning, sweat rolled down his face, the thick strands of all that glorious hair sticking to his face.
He was the sexiest, most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“Dev.” He sighed when I dug my heels in and drove in deep. He grabbed his swollen cock, and the sight of that fat head moving through Brody’s big fist, coupled with the slick sounds of his precome, sent me tumbling over the edge. My nails dug into his hairy thighs as I came, his muscles gripping me tight.
“Brody, oh God.” My gaze was fixated on his heavy dick pumping out streams of come, dripping through his grasp, hitting my chest. His lashes fluttered, and with a lust-drunk smile, he leaned in close and kissed me.
“I love you. I always will.”
I wrapped my arms around Brody and held him close, our hearts banging in rhythm.
“I love you too. Always and forever.”
**
Final regular season game
“Blue 84, Blue 84. Ready. Set.”
I scrambled to my left and handed off the ball, watching our leading rusher gain one yard. At this point, so late in the game, we were merely running out the clock. We had the game in the W column.
We were playing the Cocoa Beach Rockets on their home turf, so the stadium was rocking, but plenty of fans in the stands remembered both Brody and myself winning the national championship in the state, and there were cheers for us as well. Brody’s mom had made the trip to see us play, and we’d also flown out Troy, Amber, and Jimmy and put them in a suite. After the game we were all going to have dinner.
The Kings were comfortably ahead, 28-3 with a minute and a half left. We were on the Rockets’ forty-yard line and knew the offense was gunning for us. Bad blood simmered from an earlier call in the second quarter that the Rockets thought was in error. It resulted in the Kings scoring a touchdown, which led to some shit-talking and shoulder-knocking between our teams. The refs had needed to separate some of the players, but Coach Jackson had a warning for us: start a fight and end up on the bench.
“White 80, White 80, hut, hut.”
The play was the same as before. Hand off the ball to the running back and let the clock tick away. With the game out of reach, I wasn’t planning on the defense making a quarterback rush, so I stayed closer to the line of scrimmage than usual.
Big fucking mistake.
Three massive tackles came barreling through and hit me center mass. I ended up beneath close to seven hundred pounds of weight. Pain sliced through me, and I saw stars. Everything in front of my eyes went hazy, then dark. Whistles blew and screams echoed from the crowd. As I passed out from the pain, I muttered, “Fuck.”
**
My eyelids weighed a hundred pounds, so I gave up trying to open them. My ears worked and were the only part of my body that wasn’t hurting. I heard beeping and voices murmuring. Time to make a full-body assessment. My left arm moved, and I could make a fist, so that was good. My right arm? Stiff but I could lift it without pain. I wiggled my toes and bent my knees. Again, achy and sore. I could feel bandages wrapped around my knees, but they moved. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Devlin?”
I froze. It took a minute, but I forced my eyes open to the sight of my mother sitting, not quite at my bedside, but in a chair several feet away. She clutched the handbag in her lap. As always, she was dressed immaculately, her hair freshly done, makeup and nails perfect.
“M-mother?” My voice cracked, and I licked my lips. They were parched and dry to the tip of my tongue. “What’re you doing here?”
She blinked. “Do you know where you are?”
I tried to move my head to the side, and a bolt of white-hot pain seared through me. But from the medicinal smell and the machines and IVs, I had a good guess. “Not the Ritz, for sure. Did you redecorate my old room at home again?”
“Really, Devlin? You think this a joking matter?”
I wasn’t expecting the warm and fuzzies, but a simple smile and maybe a touch of her hand would’ve been nice. “No, Mother. I’m assuming I’m in the hospital. But I’ve been injured other times, and you haven’t come.”
She blinked. “You’ve been unconscious for a day.”
“Wh-what? It’s Monday?”
“Yes. Monday afternoon.” She checked her Cartier Panthère watch. “One twelve, to be exact.”
“Don’t you have class?”
She bowed her head for a moment. “I suppose I deserve that. We received a call from someone on your team that you’d been injured. You put me as your emergency contact.”
My lips twitched. “You sound surprised.” It had been when I first joined the Kings and filled out all the paperwork. I’d put my mother’s name as emergency contact, almost in defiance, and had never changed it, though I’d meant to.
Pink blossomed on her cheeks, but she ignored my response. “We decided since your father had a full day of lectures and I only had a class in the afternoon, I would travel here to speak to the doctor, assess your condition, and move you to New York.” Her icy gaze flicked around the room. “I’m sure the care you’ll receive at home will be miles ahead of what they can do for you here.”
Her obvious discomfort gave me a perverse sense of pleasure. “I don’t know, Mother. I hear they make a mean opossum stew here.”
Her eyes widened, and she grimaced until she realized I was teasing her. “I don’t understand your sense of humor, Devlin. This situation is not funny.”
I shifted in the bed, wincing as various aches and pains revealed themselves. “Ouch. What did happen, aside from me being squashed by three giants? It was like having three refrigerators fall on me.”
A furrow marred her smooth brow, but instead of answering me, she got to her feet. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.” And left me wondering what the hell was going on.
A nurse appeared. “Mr. Summers, you’re awake. So glad to see you’re back with us.”
I smiled. “Thanks. And please call me Dev.”
She blushed. “Okay. How are you feeling? You gave everyone a huge scare. Lots of your team have been waitin’ all night.” She checked my chart, and my IV, and replaced the bag hanging from the pole.
My heart jumped, then sank. Fuck. Brody must be going insane. “Can someone go out and tell them I’m awake and okay?”
“Oh, don’t worry. They will eventually. Now, the doctor will be here in a minute, so you just rest.”
Without another word, she left me. Frustrated and annoyed at the nonanswers, I decided to see if I could get out of bed. I lowered the railing, slid my feet to the edge and swung my legs over the side. It took me a few minutes before I could push up on the mattress with my hands. The world turned upside down, everything going hazy. Pain throbbed at my temples, and my stomach heaved.
“Okay, maybe that’s not the best move,” I whispered and gingerly reversed everything I’d done, but not before wincing at the multitudes of black and blue marks littering my calves and thighs. Damn, those guys did a number on me.
A ruddy-faced, dark-haired man in a white coat strode into the room. “Mr. Summers, I hope you weren’t thinking of running away from us so soon. I’m Dr. Albright.” His blue eyes twinkled. “I was hoping to get some tips on how to throw a perfect spiral to my fifteen-year-old so he’d think I’m a cool dad.”
I laughed. “I guess it’s up to you to tell me if I can.” Upon lifting my arm, there were a few twinges, but nothing that seemed too serious to me. “Frankly, it feels no different than the usual aches and pains after a game.”
“That’s good to hear. Let’s have a look.”
For the next hour I was poked and prodded, had my reflexes tested and my eyes checked. He unwrapped the bandages on my knees, which I saw were to protect the abrasions I’d received from the AstroTurf.
“I always did like playing on natural grass,” I told him. “Sliding along the fake grass, it burns like hell and takes the skin off.”
“Yeah,” he said, bending my legs. “It would’ve been less damage on your knees for sure.” He rewrapped the bandages and moved on to my arm. “We’ve spoken to your team physician and followed your usual post-game procedure with taking care of your shoulder, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
“Good because I wouldn’t want to be out of commission for the next playoff game. I’m thinking that a little rest will do, and I’ll be ready.”
Dr. Albright set my left arm down and lifted the railing. “I’m not going to lie to you, Mr. Summers. You suffered a concussion, and we need to keep you and run more tests to see how severe it is. I doubt you’ll be ready for the next game.”
About to contradict him, I refrained. “Can I try and sit up and see how my head feels?”
“I have a feeling you’ll make the attempt whether I’m here or not, so I’d rather see it for myself and keep you safe.”
Once again, he lowered the railing but hovered at the side of the bed. With caution, now that I already knew what might happen, I slid one foot, then the other over the side as I slowly raised to a seated position.
And promptly threw up. My vision doubled, and I fell back.
“Can we get some help in here, please?” Dr. Albright yelled out, and several people ran in and began to clean up the mess I made.
I lay in bed, head pounding, my heart beating madly. I knew my season was officially finished.
When I could string two words together, I mumbled, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause such a problem.”
Dr. Albright frowned. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this. I hope you see now that this isn’t merely a little headache. We have you scheduled for an MRI, and once we get the results we can see if there’s anything we need to be concerned about.”
“Like?” I whispered.
“Brain swelling or a fractured skull. You need to rest and take this seriously.” He scribbled some notes. “I’ll see you after the tests, and we’ll discuss the findings. In the meantime, rest. That’s the best medicine.”
I suffered through the cleanup of my hospital gown, and smiled weakly at the nurses’ aide. “Thank you for everything. I’m sorry to be such trouble.”
“Aren’t you sweet. That’s okay. You just make sure you get yourself better and listen to the doctor. We need you healthy to play.” Her genuine warmth reassured me, but I still hated that someone had to be responsible for my pigheadedness.
“I’m thinking that won’t be till next year.”
“Whatever it takes. We’ll take good care of you, don’t worry.” After dumping the dirty gown, she stopped by my bed. “You know, I remember watching you play in the Orange Bowl. That was the most exciting game I’ve ever seen—even better than the Super Bowl ’cause we were there in person. When you threw that touchdown to Blink Martin and he caught it, the whole stadium exploded.” She poured me a fresh cup of water and moved the rolling table over. “He hasn’t left since you were brought in, you know.”
“Who?”
“Blink Martin. He’s been sitting out there since yesterday after the game. The rest of the team came and went, along with some other people, but he’s stayed.” Her expression softened. “It’s so nice that y’all are still such good friends and care about each other so much.”
“Thanks. Can you send him in? I should thank him.”
“Sure thing. I’ll do that right now.”
Brody didn’t come. Instead, I was whisked away for an MRI and X-rays. They probably told him I was about to have tests and he could come in after. But he didn’t show later either, and the time ticked away.
What the hell was going on?