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“They wanted to know if I had any comments on your injury. They wanted to know what medications I gave you.”
“Did you say anything?”
“Of course not.” She sounded pissed. “But this is insane. I can’t leave. They’re stalking me.”
The car pulled up to the curb and Coach and Sam slid out, leaving me in the car alone.
“I can get you out of there.” I tried to think what security team I trusted to escort her from the building, but I’d pay whatever I had to in order to keep her away from those vultures.
“I’m supposed to fly to San Diego tomorrow.”
“I know. I know.” It was all happening so fast. It was starting to crash down, and they had barely scratched the surface of this story. If I could make it through the weekend, and walk out of here with a Super Bowl ring, there would be a way to handle the press.
“This is exactly what I talked to you about,” she seethed. “You’ve risked it. Everything, Wes.”
“No one knows anything. The only story that’s out there right now is that I might have had more than a sprain.”
“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this is happening.”
“I’ll fly you out tonight. Beat the press by a day. We can talk.”
“I can’t leave. I have patients.”
I scratched the back of my head. “I need you here.”
She sighed into the phone. “I can try to get someone to cover my shift. I’ll call you back.”
I felt the relief sink into my shoulders. She could be here tonight. By my side. Battling this with me.
“I’ll book the flight.”
“All right, but I’m worried this is going to get worse before it gets better.”
“It might. But it’s going to blow over, Doc. Trust me. I’ve ridden out worse scandals.”
It wasn’t the right moment to tell her about how many women had accused me of knocking them up, or the guy who threatened to expose my private gambling ring. Ben was just one more on that list of people I’d paid off to keep their mouths shut.
“I guess I’ll see you tonight.”
“Yes, you will. I’ve gotta go. Coach is waiting.”
I walked into the sunlight and into the hotel. I wasn’t prepared when a reporter popped up from behind a plant.
“Wes, do you want to comment on the rumor that you used HGH and regenerative gels to repair broken bones?”
“Who the hell are you?” My hand was already balled in a fist.
“Jerry Cole with the Sports X.” He pushed a recorder in front of my face. “Is it true? Did you use substances banned by the AFA?”
I shoved his hand out of the way. “I’m not commenting on rumors.”
“So was it really a break and not a sprain? Did the Wranglers lie about your injury?”
I walked away, heading toward the elevator.
“Did your girlfriend help you get the HGH? Did she have access to the illegal substances? It’s Dr. Lennon Ashworth, right?”
At the mention of her name, my eyes blazed. Who did this fucker think he was? Before I had a chance to deck him and flatten on the marble floor, Stubbs was next to me, pulling me into a conference room. He slammed the door behind us.
