Game Over (Love Game #2)

Chapter 1

Jaxon

My doctor frowned as he looked at the results of my CT scan…

the gazillionth one I had since the injury I’d received that ended my entire fucking football career.

I knew this scan would be no better than the last, or the one before that, or the one before that.

My vision problems were here to stay, as were my headaches, it seemed.

Before my head injury, I’d been nearly at the top of my class with straight A’s, always ahead of my work.

I’d hardly had to study because remembering things came so easily for me.

Now, I was struggling to comprehend simple things, and analyzing anything was a fucking joke without help. And memorization? Fucking laughable.

We’d been playing our biggest rival of the year when I was tackled in the end zone.

My head had smacked on the ground so fucking hard, I’d immediately blacked out.

There’d been a lot of swelling to my brain, forcing them to put me in a medically induced coma for a week while the doctors waited for the swelling to go down.

Blaze and Hunter, my best friends, and Hunter’s boyfriend, Samuel, had apparently taken turns being by my side so one of them would be there when I woke up, so I wouldn’t be alone.

When I’d woken up, it’d obviously been Blaze’s shift because it was him in my hospital room, sitting beside my bed and staring at me like if he stared hard enough, I’d open my eyes for him.

His face had been too pale, his eyes pinched, and his hair, which he normally kept perfectly styled, had been an absolute mess and unwashed.

And he’d been the one to quietly tell me that my chances of playing pro were over because I’d never be able to play football again. I wasn’t even allowed to be on our school’s team any longer because I was fucking useless to them now.

“Not any better, is it?” I asked, my voice dull.

Dr. McManus sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Jaxon, but it’s not.” He looked at me. “It would explain why the headaches aren’t getting any better either.”

I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. Normally, I wore contacts, but my headache had been so bad that morning that I couldn’t manage getting them in. So, glasses it was. “Is this going to be lifelong?” I asked. It sure seemed like it.

Dr. McManus shrugged. “Possibly. Chances are high you’ll at least deal with the headaches for a few years. Your head injury was very extreme, Jaxon, and it doesn’t help that you’ve suffered concussions previously. But the vision and cognitive issues you’re dealing with… I’d say they’re permanent.”

Permanent.

Who knew the sport I fucking loved would be what destroyed my fucking life?

I stayed silent because I didn’t know what to fucking say.

And if I opened my mouth about how I felt at that moment, he’d probably refer me to a goddamn therapist. And I couldn’t handle a therapist right now.

It might be the thing that tipped me over the proverbial edge.

I was already hanging on by a damn thread as it was.

My sanity felt so fucking frail these days.

“Come back in a month. We’ll do another scan and see if anything has improved,” he said, clapping a hand to my shoulder as he stood from his rolling stool.

As if his touch was somehow comforting when, in reality, it just made my fucking skin crawl when I felt so goddamn undone.

“In the meantime, just try to take it easy, and don’t overdo yourself.

The last thing you want to do is potentially worsen your condition. ”

I slipped off the cot with a slow nod, then left the room.

After checking out at the front desk and getting the card for my next appointment, I made my way out the door.

Shoving my fingers through my dark hair, I scanned the small parking lot for my truck, trying to remember where the fuck I parked it.

My short-term memory was absolute dog shit after the hit I’d taken, which was just another cherry on top of the shit sundae I was constantly being spoon fed.

Finally finding it off to the side of the parking lot, I crossed the blacktop, beeping it unlocked before I slid into the driver’s seat.

Clenching my hands around the worn steering wheel, I rested my forehead on it and blew out a harsh breath.

I just wanted to go back to the apartment I shared with Blaze and sleep, try to forget all this shit I was dealing with for a little while, but I had a class I needed to get to.

And while the old me could have skipped and caught up with no issue, this new me—which I fucking detested—could barely keep up anymore, even while I was attending every class religiously, studying hardcore, and paying attention like I never had before.

Gritting my teeth, I shifted my truck into reverse and backed out of the parking stall. When I shifted into first, my truck roared as I pressed onto the gas, and something in my chest loosened.

Nothing soothed me like the sound of my truck rumbling and roaring down the street. It was the one thing I could fucking rely on never changing.