Chapter 8 Sam
sam
“Webber, are you still there? Webber, I know this isn’t the news we were hoping for, but I will do whatever I can to get us a contract and if that isn’t with the Yetis, I’m sorry, man.”
I didn’t know what to say to my agent, Miles. We had discussed this before I went into the surgery; it wasn’t something I didn’t already know but hearing him repeat it from the team just made it even more real.
“Webber?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” I said softly.
“Look, kid, I'm sorry,” he sighed. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but you also jetted off—”
“I’m doing PT and they are sending updates,” I snapped.
“We made this agreement, and they signed off on it. I would be doing the same thing there. If they want me in tip-top shape they need me to be sound in body and mind. My body might be ready to play, but you know as well as I do, if my mind isn’t in it, I’m not going to play well. ”
“I know that's what we agreed on,” he said, placating me. “Your injury is delicate, and no team wants someone on their injured list at the beginning of the season.”
“I’m doing my best,” I growled. “If someone had listened to me, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
He stayed quiet and he should have because I complained to many people.
“All we can do is move forward and I will do whatever I can do to get you a contract,” he said. “I know you want to stay close to Colorado, but we might want to set our sights somewhere else.”
“Fine, but nothing east coast,” I mumbled.
“No promises,” he said before hanging up.
I stared at my phone for what felt like forever.
Enough time had gone by that the sun had gone down and the walls of the cottage felt like they were going to fall on me.
A sinking feeling hit me as I had a foreboding awareness about my career and how it might actually be over.
I might not get re-signed, and no one was going to want to sign me with my injury.
I was a decent player at best, just not good enough of a player for people to bet on me while injured.
Fuck, if this was really the end of my career, I didn’t plan well for it.
I looked at the time on my phone as it vibrated with a new message.
Gomez: Hey, Webber, how's it going? How's the knee feeling?
I opened my phone and saw a few other messages I hadn't responded to.
Cap: How you holding up?
Hunter: How’s the country treating you? Miss the city yet?
I had been avoiding my teammates, afraid they would ask about my contract.
Telling them made it feel more real and official.
I wasn’t ready and I couldn’t bear to hear their concern or pity.
Ignoring the texts, I decided to go straight to the bar.
I hadn’t had a beer in a while and if I was going to survive the night, I needed a drink or maybe ten.
PT was going well enough that I didn’t need my crutches, but I took them because if I was drinking, I knew I would need all the help I could get to walk on the way out.
My doctor and trainer would be so mad right now, but I had been doing everything right, and look where it had gotten me. I needed one night to reset. Tomorrow, I could go back to the grind, getting my knee back in working order.
I felt like an idiot walking into the bar with my crutches, but it was nothing a shot of tequila and a beer wouldn’t make go away.
“Hey, suga, long time no see.” The bartender grinned at me.
“Hey,” I said, trying to remember her name, but couldn’t. “How’s it going?”
“Same shit, different day.” She grinned. “Shot and a beer?”
“Please,” I said, sitting on the barstool.
“What happened to you, hot shot,” she said, sliding a shot to me and then opening my beer as I took the shot.
“I’m not as invincible on the ice as I thought I was,” I chuckled, but it ended up coming out hollow.
“I didn’t see the game, but I heard it was a brutal hit,” she said with sympathy in her gaze.
“It's a part of the life,” I shrugged, grabbing my beer to take a drink when I looked to my left and saw Jude staring right at me.
It crossed my mind that he might have been here.
He wasn’t ever big on going out, but he would come out with his coworker or Theo and his family for a drink sometimes.
I didn’t know if it was relief or nerves I was feeling when I looked at him, but I smiled, wishing that for one night I could have my best friend back.
I really fucking missed him.
He got off his barstool and walked to me. That's when I noticed the man behind him. I froze when I recognized him. He looked even better than I remembered. Jude stood next to me, stealing my attention and we looked at each other for a moment before I reached out to hug him.
Everything felt right for once when Jude hugged me back.
I sighed as my eyes stung with tears and I wondered why I had waited so long to see him.
Our entire fight seemed inconsequential, nothing mattered except Jude.
At this point, I didn’t care why we were mad, I just wanted my best friend back.
I would do anything to make sure he was happy.
“I’ve missed you, Jude,” I said, hugging him tighter.
He stayed quiet and my heart sank a little. I realized that maybe all this was one-sided as I let him go. We stared at each other and all the hope I had been feeling slowly ebbed. He stepped back hitting my knee as he did, pain shot up my leg, taking my breath away.
I gritted my teeth to stop from crying out in pain.
“Holy shit! I’m so sorry!” Jude cried out.
“It’s fine.” I breathed through the pain.
“You should be elevating your leg and icing it,” he said. “What are you doing at the bar?”
“I needed a drink. I just got off the phone with Miles,” I said, as he lifted my leg onto a bar stool.
He studied me, speechless.
“Jude, you don’t have to do that,” I said, feeling guilty that he had started to baby me. “I’m fine, really. Um…you can go back to your evening.”
He gave me a weird look, but I smiled at him trying to reassure him, then saw the guy he was sitting with behind him. Holy shit, were they together? Was this why he was pulling away? An awful ugly feeling hit my chest as I stared at the man behind Jude. My one night stand all those months ago.
Does Jude know we slept together? Did he sleep with me to get closer to Jude? Wait, that didn’t make sense.
Jude looked between us and then scoffed. “Seriously, Webber?”
“What?” I startled when he stepped away and he had that pout on his face that said he was mad.
He only called me Webber when he was mad at me.
“I’m glad your surgery went well, but I have to go,” he said, pulling money from his wallet and throwing it on the bar. “Hey, Mindy, can you close my tab?”
“Sure thing, suga!” she said.
“Wait, Jude,” I said, attempting to get up, but it was hard to get my leg off the stool.
“I’ll see you later, Forest,” he said, turning around and leaving.
What the hell just happened? That’s when I realized what name he called the man. He was Theo’s new ranch hand.
“Fuck, so you’re Forest,” I sighed.
“Yeah, and you're the best friend.” He glanced over his shoulder before looking back at me. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again after that night.”
“Same, it seems fate had other plans for us,” I said, waving down Mindy ready for another shot.
“Fucked up plans.” He shook his head, walking away from me.
This was not how I had imagined my night going.
Going to PT hungover was not how I had imagined my day unfolding. I was an idiot who thought I could keep drinking like I was still in my twenties. I still felt like garbage, and it was almost evening. My impulsiveness was kicking my ass.
I needed to eat and sleep off this nasty feeling. It didn’t help that my physical therapist was pissed at me, putting me through hell as punishment for drinking. My entire body hurt, getting off the couch sounded awful, but I needed to eat and sleep, maybe even call Jude.
Lifting my leg off the table, I set it on the floor. I pushed myself up with the table and when I stood up, I lost my balance. I was falling forward and before I could hurt myself more, I turned to fall on my good side. The ricochet of the fall made my knee hurt and I shouted out in pain.
“Fuck!”
I knew I hadn’t hit it against anything, but with PT today and my injury, my knee still hurt.
Rolling onto my back, I took a moment to let my leg chill out before I tried to get up.
Thankfully, I didn’t fall on the coffee table.
I didn’t need to explain to Michelle that I fell on her table and now I needed to buy her a new one.
Maybe I could just take a nap here on the floor.
I was nauseated, tired and moving felt like climbing Mount Everest. This floor was already hurting my back, I needed to get my ass up.
I tried to sit up, everything ached as I did and when I finally sat up I realized I didn’t know if I could get up.
My knee couldn’t bend, my body hurt and not working out regularly had made me a bit soft.
Twenty minutes later, I was sweaty, more out of breath than I should have been, and I still couldn’t get up. My arms ached, my stomach was in knots along with the throbbing pain in my knee. I felt like a fucking failure. This was embarrassing, but I needed some help to get up.
I grabbed my phone out of my front pocket, dialing the one person that wasn’t mad at me. The phone rang a couple of times before she answered.
“Hey, I’ve been thinking about you,” Nova said.
“Well, it might be because I’ve fallen and I need help getting up,” I sighed.
“Shit, are you ok? Did you hurt your knee?”
“I’m ok and no, my knee is fine,” I said laying back down. “Do you think you could swing by and help me?”
“Webber, there is no way in hell I’m gonna be able to lift you up, sweetheart,” Nova said. “Maybe you should call Jude.”
“I can’t,” I said, my voice cracking.
“Webber, you guys need to eventually see each other,” she sighed. “You’re best friends and—”