Chapter 21
Fin
Monday morning, I stuffed my shit into my locker space before making my way to the film room.
Akin to a movie theater, the large film room had enough seats for the entire team.
That wasn’t where I was supposed to be. My stop would be in the offensive film review, a smaller theater room down the hallway.
Entering near the back, my gaze met offensive coordinator Drew Pratt’s. He offered me a clipped nod.
Did he know about Tilson wanting to speak to me?
His expression only said to take a seat.
The room filled as Coach Tilson, Coach Garcia, and the other offensive-position coaches congregated in the front of the room.
Without appearing obvious, I searched for any sign of Vee.
The sight of her vivid green eyes and the taste of her sweet lips from last night were on repeat in my dreams. Waking didn’t seem to slow the memories.
If I thought about the way she moaned when I spread my fingers over her soft skin beneath her top, I’d get hard in a room full of testosterone.
Corden Young, an offensive tackle, took the seat to my side. He had six years in the league, and this was his third with the Coopers. “Good game, yesterday.”
“Thanks for keeping me safe.”
Corden scoffed. “That shiner you’re sporting doesn’t look like we did that good of a job.”
Gingerly, I lifted my fingers to my cheek, below my left eye. “Looks worse than it feels.”
The seats were filling as he lowered his voice. “News about Dennison?”
Pressing my lips together, I shook my head. “Nothing since yesterday. I spoke to him after the news conference. He sounded positive. I’m sure they’re going to let us know.”
A hand came to my shoulder from behind. A quick crane of my neck and I saw JD’s smile. “Good to work together again.”
JD’s light green eyes contrasted with his dark complexion. It was his constant smile and ready laugh that I’d missed. “Missed you, too. I’m here until Dennison can take back his place.”
“Quiet,” Coach Tilson said from the front.
“The injury report hasn’t been finalized yet.
” He lifted his hand to keep us quiet. “I know everyone’s wondering about Dennison.
The official diagnosis is a grade-one concussion and neck sprain.
” His eyes came to me. “Fin will be starting next Sunday in Denver.”
It was difficult to describe the feeling registering in my gut.
I’d be lying if I didn’t like hearing my name on the starting lineup.
On the other hand, this was my thirteenth season in the NFL.
I’d been mowed down by some of the league’s best defensive players.
The ache in my body as I woke this morning told me that I was meant to step aside for the younger and healthier class.
“The Coopers’ plane will leave Thursday afternoon an hour after practice ends.
Be ready. We don’t wait. As our veterans know, they don’t call Denver ‘mile-high stadium’ for nothing.
Stadium ops have worked out two days of practice in Denver to get you used to breathing the thinner air.
Now, we’re not going to spend a lot of time rewatching Packard’s hit on Troy.
I would, however, like us to watch one time, not to analyze the hit, but to look at our O line. Could we have prevented it?”
Corden bristled and murmured under his breath.
“The hit was late,” Drew Pratt interjected. “We’re not assigning blame. Packard shouldn’t have been still targeting. If any of you guards or tackles had stopped him, you would have been called for a late hit. Nevertheless, this is an opportunity for us to evaluate the possibilities.”
When the film review of the game was over, I headed to Coach Tilson’s office. “The coach wanted to see me, Griffin Graham,” I said to his assistant.
She picked up the phone. When she hung up, she shook her head. “Coach Tilson is busy right now and said not to worry about it. Everything worked out.”
“All right.” Turning, I let out a breath.
Cooler minds.
It was around eleven when I made my way to the trainer’s office. Turning each corner, I hoped to run into a green-eyed beauty. Either she was avoiding me or our paths weren’t meant to cross. I suspected the first and hoped for the second. Not crossing paths was easier to remedy.
“How are you feeling, Fin?” Lacy Reynolds asked as I entered the exam room.
I met Lacy my first week with the Coopers. She was a certified athletic trainer and a physician’s assistant. In her mid-fifties, Lacy had been with the Coopers since they moved to Crystal Light Stadium.
“Sorer than I’d like to admit.”
She hummed and nodded. “Where? Besides that left cheek.”
“Everywhere,” I said, hoping to be funny. By the look on her face, I saw my attempt at humor wasn’t hitting its mark. “I soaked in the hot tub this morning before our meeting. I just wondered if you had any other recommendations.”
Lacy asked me to lie down on one of the tables. After I did, she began her examination. The nylon shorts I was wearing gave her access to my calves and thighs. Pushing and kneading the muscles and tendons in my legs and hips, she asked, “How are your ribs—your sides?”
“Good.” I took off my shirt, pulling it over my head, and she examined me for bruises and tenderness.
I groaned as she kneaded my right shoulder. “Tender?”
“A little.”
“We should get an MRI.”
“I’d rather not.”
Lacy took a step back and crossed her arms. “That’s not how this works. I’m not asking.”
Sitting up, I swung my legs over the table and gave her my sexiest grin.
“Hear me out.” She lowered her arms—it was a start.
“Dennison is out for at least the next game. You know more than I do.” She didn’t respond.
“I haven’t had any pain during practice, but I’d blocked out the way it feels the day after being run over by eight trucks in one afternoon.
I’m good for the next game. I just wanted some suggestions on feeling better and healing quicker. ”
“You could have a torn—”
“Could, but I don’t,” I interrupted, moving my right arm in a complete windmill forward and then backward. “We don’t have a third-string quarterback.” I jumped to the ground, reached for my shirt, and pulled it over my head. “I’m not asking for meds, just suggestions.”
Lacy pressed her lips together before sighing.
“No physical activity today or tomorrow. Ice on for twenty, heat on for twenty, today and tonight. Tomorrow, heat on for twenty then nothing for twenty. If you’re worse tomorrow, don’t ignore it.
Come in and see me. If you’re not better by Wednesday morning, come to me before practice. ”
I quirked my grin and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She reached for my arm. “You’re not invincible, Fin.”
“Oh, do I know that.”
“Playing injured doesn’t help the team.”
I shook my head. “I’m not injured. I’m beat up. There’s a difference.”
“Come back after your position meeting. I’ll have a shoulder wrap for you to take home. It’s both warm and cold without changing ice packs.”
I agreed.
During lunch, I kept my eyes peeled for any sign of Vee. While others from the stadium operations side of the building came and went from the cafeteria, Vee wasn’t among them.
Considering it was the day after a win, the players sitting around my table were more solemn than usual.
It was our collective concern over Dennison.
The most animated the discussion became was when Packard’s name was mentioned.
The consensus was that the NFL should fine him in addition to his three-game suspension.
The last meeting of the day was with Coach Garcia, my quarterback meeting. Since Dennison was out, it was only the two of us.
“You came through for us, Fin,” he said as I took a seat. “Your instincts are good.” His forehead furrowed. “Coach Pratt calls plays for a reason.”
“It was a good call until it wasn’t,” I said. “The defense read our lineup. The backs didn’t have a chance of completing the first down. Patel was open. The first down gave us time to run out the clock.”
“You should know,” he said, “there’s talk about bringing on a third-string quarterback.”
I nodded. “It makes sense. Simpson?” I asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“He knows the plays. It makes the most sense. Last I heard he was signed on to New Orleans’s practice squad.”
“How would you feel about being let go and re-signed?”
I shrugged. “It’s part of the business, Coach. We know the routine.”
Coach Garcia nodded. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I told Lacy Reynolds, I apparently blocked out the day after getting run over by multiple trucks, maybe even a few buses.”
Garcia smirked. “You’re good for next Sunday.”
It wasn’t a question, and yet I answered. “Next Sunday isn’t in question. Reynolds wants me to ice and heat my shoulder over the next two days. If I’m still sore on Wednesday, I’m supposed to see her before practice.”
“Keep me updated. We need you ready for Sunday.”
“I will, Coach.”