Page 19 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

Coach tells us to get back to work, but the rest of practice is subdued. Dante was key in our Super Bowl win a few years back, and we’re expecting him to play a big role this time around, so everyone’s mind is drifting toward him.

We finish practice as usual, we still have a lot of plays to learn before the pre-season starts, and we can’t afford to dwell on thewhat ifssince it’s unlikely this will be the only injury our team suffers all season. Dante hasn’t returned to the sideline before practice ends, so by the time coach sends us back to the locker room speculation is running wild.

Shane and I find Dante on the trainer’s table. He’s leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, a set of earbuds jammed in his ears, and a wrap around his upper thigh.

“What’s the word?” Shane asks as he stiffly approaches the table.

“Groin.” Dante sighs, pulling the buds from his ears.

“Bad?” Shane holds his breath.

“It ain’t good.” Dante scowls at his leg.

It’s never fun to watch a teammate struggle, but I’ve got to get him out of his head, and quick. Insults and laughter have a way of lightening the mood, so they’re my go-to method for getting people to relax, and they usually have the desired effect, especially on Dante. He’s super competitive and hates to think he’s not the best.

“Told you it was too early to try the deep ball.” I nudge Shane. “Kid’s gotta be in better condition before he tries to keep up with those rockets you throw.” This earns me a solid glare.

“Screw that, man. His ball ain’t that fast,” Dante grunts.

“Fastest in the league,” Shane snorts, catching on.

“All that heat on the ball, only way you can catch it is to try to outrun it. You’re not big enough to absorb all that power. If you bulk up, like me, you won’t have to run so far to make a catch.”

“Man, I don’tcatchanything.” He uses air quotes to make his point. “I pluck it outta the air all graceful and shit. All you do is try not to drop what hits you in the chest.”

“I feel like that’s more efficient than running my ass off.” I rub my stomach.

“You wish you could run as fast as me. I'm down in the end zone and you’re still scratching your ass on the line of scrimmage.”

“There you are.” I collapse into fits of laughter. Dante gives me an exaggerated eye roll and shakes his head, realizing I’ve baited him.

“So, what’s the prognosis?” Shane asks.

“Four to six weeks.” Dante exhales, leaning his head against the wall.

“That’s nothin’,” I reassure him. “You’ll miss a couple pre-season games where you’d only play a quarter or two anyway.”

Dante nods in agreement, although we both know it’s not that simple. Pre-season is where we shake the rust off, and it’s critical for getting in shape. Ideally, it will condition us enough that we avoid injury during the season, and while anything can happen, having weeks to build up your body helps.

Dante’s not going to sit idle, he’ll have therapy to move things along, though his pre-season will move at a slower pace because of this injury, meaning we’ll be several games into the season before he’s at a hundred percent.

Groins hurt like a bitch, but they usually aren’t season ending, so as far as injuries go this is just a little hiccup. Unfortunately, since it’s coming at the beginning of the season that means Dante will be more focused on his therapy than on getting the team ready to go. That’s understandable, but it only adds to my plate.

Dante, Shane, and I, are the veterans on this team, and the three of us usually work together to lead the rest of the guys, those two in a mentoring role and me in a motivational role. Between Shane’s impending fatherhood and Dante’s injury, that leaves me as the only guy who currently has nothing on his plate except the team.

Any other year I wouldn’t care about the added pressure, but that’s because I don’t usually have anything outside of football I want to focus on. Now I do.

Samantha

Coltisduehereany minute, and the anticipation has me jittery. Jittery and ashamed, because after telling myself repeatedly not to get caught up in his mesmerizing stare, his playful personality, and his surprisingly thoughtful mind, I’ve been able to think of little else since I last saw him.

Thank goodness Delaney gave me the heads up on that, or I’d probably be half in love already.

Knowing I’m one of dozens, maybe even hundreds, of women on the receiving end of his attention is the only reason I’ve been able to reel myself back in when I start to go off track. Though going off track is easy because there’s something about him that calms as much as it excites.

There were moments over dinner when the conversation wasn’t focused on work, and I didn’t feel as awkward as I normally do. I can’t say Colt put me at ease per se, because a man that overpowering is hard to fully relax around, yet when those blue eyes are focused on me it’s hard to do anything but surrender to them.

A sharp knock pulls me back to the present. I smooth my skirt over my legs on the way to the door, telling myself it’s because being wrinkled is unprofessional, not because I care about my appearance. I almost believe that lie until Colt comes into focus before me, his Henley stretched taught across his chest and bunching around his trim waist.

---