Page 67 of Fighting for His Life

I spot Zane, D’Andre, Anthony Warner, and Marcus Hartley at our usual table waiting. I have no idea how in the hell Zane beat me here since we left at the same time, but I know better than to ask questions. I already know he drives like he runs the football. Like his ass is on fire and anything in his way better move the fuck over.

A large hand on my shoulder stops me just before we reach the table. I turn to face Fet, his face full of guilt. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, Jax. I shouldn’t have assumed anything. What’s going on with you and Zoey is your business. I just wish you’d have told me before I made an ass out of myself.”

I give him an understanding smile and nod. “Forget it,” I say hoping he’ll do just that for the rest of the night.

We get to the table to be welcomed by applauds from the other guys. “There’s our fucking quarterback. That was some awesome passing,” Marcus, our running back says.

“What about the receiving, jackass?” Zane pouts. “If I hadn’t caught those balls, they’d been a bunch of incompletes.”

I laugh knowing that he’s only joking. Zane may act conceited but he’s really not. He’s not a ball hog and he’s not worried about being the star. Like me, he just wants to play ball.

“Some pretty good rushing too if you ask me. And that final defensive play by Jacobs and Washington was beautiful.”

“It was a good game,” D’Andre comments.

“It was a fucking awesome game, but damn I’m tired,” I add.

“You’re too fucking young to be tired after a game,” Anthony remarks sarcastically.

“Yeah, my ribs are going to be killing me for days. I’m just glad Fet and Dre kept that big motherfucker off me.”

“He was giving you some sexy eyes, wasn’t he?” Dre smirks. “Pretty sure he wanted a piece of that pretty boy ass.”

I roll my eyes.

“You need to get use to it, Jay,” Marcus says laughing. “You are a pretty boy, and the title’s not going away anytime soon.”

I throw a handful of nuts their way. “Whatever,” I growl.

“Don’t worry, Jay,” Zane smirks. “I’ll be your huckleberry.”

“Anytime, baby,” I grin causing the rest of them to laugh. I’m glad they adjusted to my and Zane’s sense of humor quickly.

My phone ringing in my pocket draws me away from the joking and conversation. My heart starts racing as soon as I see the number. It’s one-part fear and two parts excitement. Fear because that’s what’s come to be my normal reaction to a New York number now. Excitement because I get to hear my girl’s voice.

I stand from the table to find a quiet spot – if that’s even possible. Zane tips his chin up at me. “Tell her I love her,” he says with a smile.

I nod and smile like a jackass.

“Who’s this sexy football god I saw win the game today?” she says, and I can hear the genuine smile in her voice. My smile grows infinitely wider. She sounds like my Zoey.

“I don’t know. There were a lot of people on the field,” I tease.

“Yeah, but only one had four hundred twenty-seven passing yards,” she retorts.

I blink a few times. “Really?” I ask surprised. I didn’t know I threw for that many.

She laughs a cute tinkling laugh that travels south. “Yeah, Jay. You were great. Tell Zane he was okay too.”

“Sounds like you had a good day, baby.”

“Actually, it was pretty rough,” she sighs. “But I guess it’s what I need.”

“Want to talk about it?” I ask hoping she’ll say yes because so far, she hasn’t told me a thing about her therapy.

“Not really.”

“Alright, Angel,” I try to keep the dejection out of my voice.

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