The door creaked when I opened it, and I saw every member of the team’s heads turn to face me in unison. Liam and Jonesy looked amused. Rowan did not. He narrowed his eyes at me, and he did not look too pleased when I gave him a jovial little wave.
The only person who looked less amused than Rowan was Coach Cal, standing at the podium, looking at me like he’d seen a ghost. “Tobitt, what are you doing here?”
“Practice, Coach,” I answered as I scooted myself toward an empty seat in the back. I couldn’t get much further than that. The auditorium style seating was not created for knee scooters.I slid into the empty aisle seat and parked my scooter next to it, like this was a completely normal thing to be doing.
Coach watched the entire process unfold like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Pretty sure you’re on the injured list this week. Next few weeks, actually. You’re not supposed to be at practice.”
“Oh, c’mon Coach. It’s just listening to strategy. I promise I won’t try to do anything active.”
“We’ll talk after.”
I counted this as a victory and settled into my seat. I listened to Coach Cal finish the walkthrough of the next game’s strategy. I’d missed half of it, but since I wasn’t playing, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. It did look exciting though, listening to the plays Coach Cal thought would work against the Missoula Hawks. Our offensive and defensive coordinators came up and talked a little before the position coaches called for their units and the groups separated.
“Stay here, Tobitt,” Coach Cal’s voice boomed through the auditorium.
I stayed. It wasn’t worth the hassle to try to sneak out with the other running backs. Instead, I watched everyone file out. A few teammates clapped me on the shoulder when they walked by my seat. Rowan glowered at me as he passed. He looked like he had plans to give me a lecture when we got back home.
I mean, back to my condo.
Which was my home. Not his home. Even if he had been there nonstop since the game and promised he’d be back when practice was over. We weren’t really at theliving togetherstage of our relationship. We hadn’t even fully defined the status of our relationship yet.
Once the room was empty, Coach Cal came up the aisle. He sat in the seat opposite me, a grin on his face. “You know, I pulled something like this back in my ALF days too,” he told me. Thatwas unexpected. I thought I was going to get a lecture. “I broke my leg taking a tackle wrong. My coach wasn’t so nice about it. He ripped me a new one for coming in when I was supposed to be resting, because he knew what I didn’t. And I know what you don’t. You gotta stay home to rest so you’ll heal up faster.”
“I’m resting here.”
“You should be resting at home.” Coach Cal sighed. “The team needs you, Tobitt. You’re one of the best running backs in the league. We have a chance at the playoffs this year, but to get there, and to make any kind of playoff run, we need you back. That means you need to stay home, and you need to rest, and you need to heal up.”
I scrunched my nose. “But it’s boring,” I whined.
“Doesn’t matter.” Coach studied me closely. I felt like we were having some kind of stare down, a battle of wills. Neither one of us wanted to be the first to look away, the first to break. But Coach Cal must have really known things I didn’t because he won. When I looked back up at him, he was grinning. “Y/N is here from SEN. We’ve got a few people scheduled for press after practice, but since you’re here…”
“You want me to go talk to them?”
“Might as well.”
I tried to hop up before remembering my knee. I winced, because oh, that was a very bad idea. My knee ached from the fast movement, and I suddenly understood why Coach Cal wanted me home and resting. I was too excitable, and I was going to hurt myself worse. Coach Cal reached out to steady me, and together, we got me back standing and my knee rested on the scooter.
We walked together to the press room. The raised stage and podium presented an issue neither of us had foreseen. How the heck was I supposed to get up there? I couldn’t really take my scooter up the stairs and bending my knee was a big no go.
“Y/N, do you mind if we do this in one of the smaller rooms?” Coach Cal suggested.
Y/N agreed easily, and they followed us across the hall to the smaller press room. There was a Scorpions banner and a podium set up in front of a few chairs meant for press to sit in. It was usually used after games or for exclusives. Coach Cal closed the door when he left, leaving us alone.
“Before we go on the record, is there anything off-limits in regard to your injury?” Y/N asked.
“Not that I can think of,” I answered. I appreciated the fact that they checked. It was one thing I’d always liked about interviewing with Y/N. When it was something serious, they confirmed that they weren’t going to cross a line. I’d heard them check in with Liam and Jonesy when their relationship was made public, and then they respected the fact that they didn’t want to answer questions about their relationship after that initial interview. So many reporters didn’t.
I was pretty sure it was why Coach Cal never minded Y/N coming around.
“Then let’s get started.” Y/N signaled for their camera person to step up.
I straightened my shoulders and positioned my scooter behind the podium. “You can’t see the scooter, can you?” I asked. Y/N shook their head. The camera man looked at his preview screen and gave me a thumbs up. “Okay, now let’s get started.”
“It’s good to see you up and about after that injury, Milo,” Y/N started. “What was going on in your head when you got hit?”
“Ouch.” The word flew from my mouth, and I was rewarded with Y/N’s laughter. There was something about the blinking red camera light that put me at ease. “Honestly, I wasn’t thinking much when I got hit. I don’t know if you’ve ever had the wind knocked out of you, but it takes your thoughts with it.”
“I have not, and I hope I never do. You don’t make it sound like fun.”
