Page 26 of The Player

Bryson looks at me, and I see the disappointment in him. The judgemental disdain. “Yes, dammit. Now shut up and work your goddamn arm like you are supposed to be doing.”

“Touchy,” I snip at him, and he throws a bottle of gel at my head. I dodge it barely.

“You’ve been in this place for three months. The doctors said if you’d do your exercises, you’d be out. Instead, they added two more months to your stay.”

Yeah, I’ve been hesitant to get better. Why? It gives my brother an excuse to stay here. To not go to war and get killed. It’s selfish of me because I’m letting him down. Fuck, I’m letting my team down. They visit me weekly, and I show them progress, but in reality, I’m self-sabotaging my own therapy.

“Fine. Fine!” I growl at him and do the exercises.

Bryson watches me like a hawk as I move through the paces and listen to the podcasters talking about next year’s draft. I’m out of it and will have to be at college for one more year. Fuck them all.

“Ignore them,” Bry tells me, and I nod my head.

“I am. It will only get better from here.”

And it did. For my arm, at least. For me personally, I think I became a bigger douche.

* * *

EIGHT YEARS LATER

“And that right there, folks, could be a career-ending sack,” the announcer announces, and I know he’s talking about the fact that my left leg is behind me, and I’m unable to feel half of my spine.

“My God.” I hear someone close to me yell, and I know it’s my sister. But I can’t focus. Hell, I can’t even think about what the day is. The pain has me gasping for air that doesn’t seem to want to fill my lungs.

“Julie, get Lennox out of here.”

Who the fuck is Lennox? I’m ashamed to know that I’ve fallen so far out of touch with my sister and Julie; I didn’t even know they would be at this game. I should have known. We are playing at the AT&T Stadium. Of course, they would come to this one.

“Ms. Johannsen, please, let the medics do their job.”

“He needs immediate attention. There’s no way these sports medics are going to be able to help him. Get him to the hospital.”

My sister’s voice is shrill, but all I can think about is Julie’s smile and how I’d love to have her wrapped around me as I drive into her. That’s not going to happen. Hell, I haven’t even watched her on the cameras in over eight years.

Sure, I still get daily updates from my sister, but I’ve given her more space except on the anniversary of the ball, of course. Those notes are fun to send, and I know it’s my way of keeping her mind on me in some form or fashion.

* * *

THIRTEEN MONTHS LATER

“Earth to Aaron.” My doctor snaps her fingers at me, and I blink. Hell, when did I even fall asleep?

“Sorry, Doc. What…” Shaking my head to clear the fog, I blink, looking up at the woman that I’ve been fucking. Yeah, I’m not proud of myself, considering I promised to keep myself celibate until I had Julie again. “What are you doing here?”

Doctor Barrington gives me a stern look, even though I see the desire in her eyes as she gives me a sad smile. “I’m here because you are being released today. You will be flying home without too much pain. We won’t see each other again.”

Fuck, I shouldn’t have ever demanded to go back to San Francisco. But being that close to Julie and knowing I’d never try anything while I was still in the limelight, I had to get away.

How the hell did I forget about going home to Summerfield, Texas. My sister called me three days ago and begged me to come help her. Our parents have long since passed, but it’s about our brother. My idol. He was shot on active duty and is being medically discharged from the Marines. She doesn’t know how to help him. Bryson’s already stipulated he’ll only come home and do therapy if I do it with him.

“I guess I’ll be doing therapy with my big brother then.” I’m such a loser. He’s actually hurt, and I’m over here sulking about a damn pesky knee injury that has ruined my football career. Not like I can’t get a job anywhere. Online college courses have given me the ability to get my master’s degree in Sports Coaching and Performance along with mathematics. With a heavy heart, I know I’ll be the new high school coach. Great.

The doc runs a hand along my arm, and I give her a puppy dog eye smile. She chuckles. “Yes, you will. At the state-of-the-art therapy clinic in your hometown that caters to athletes and veterans. I’ve already called them and set up a regimen for you to get in the best shape you can.” My doctor is too damn cheerful about this. I’m pretty sure the physical therapist hates me and can’t wait for my departure.

“Yeah, whatever. When am I being picked up?” I sound like an insolent teenager being dragged to a family function.

Her lips graze my earlobe, and I feel repulsion for her for the first time. Maybe it’s because I know all she wants me for is sex. Hell, that’s all I wanted her for too.

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