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I let out a snort, “No, we were worse.”
Ripping my jersey over my head, I toss it in the laundry bin before pushing to my feet and doing the same with my pants. I bite the inside of my cheek as the pain grows stronger in my knee as I balance my weight on one foot. Just as I think I’ll make it, my freaking pants get stuck on my foot, and I stumble.
Nixon’s fingers wrap around my forearm, steadying me before I can fall down face first. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah,” I croak out, my voice tight. “Just lost my balance there for a bit.”
Shrugging his hand off, I grab my towel. “I’m going to take a shower.”
I nod at a few people leaving the locker room when Nixon’s voice stops me. “You coming later, right?”
“Of course. I’ll see you guys there.”
Thankfully, the bathroom has emptied out, so I slide into the first open stall and turn on the water before stepping under the spray. Bracing my palms against the wall, I bite back the hiss at the touch of cold water over my skin.
I’m not sure how long I stay like that, but by the time my muscles loosen enough that the pain isn’t unbearable and I can make it back into the locker room without drawing unwanted attention to myself, most of my teammates have already left.
I quickly put on some clothes and make my way out to the parking lot. Tossing the duffle bag onto the passenger’s seat, I slide into the car.
My fingers grip around the steering wheel as I watch the darkness ahead. Every so often, my gaze falls back on that damn bag.
It’s like it’s a living, breathing thing. I swear I can hear it calling my name. Giving me promises I so desperately need to hear.
Tempting.
So damn tempting.
“Fuck.” Ripping my hands from the steering wheel, I clench my fingers into a fist and pound them against the leather.
Then, I finally give in and open the zipper. Pulling out that familiar plastic bottle, I take the pill, letting it dull the pain.
* * *
“I figured you’d have been here by now,” I say, walking around the hood of my car to meet Nixon and the girls.
“Had to make a pit stop first.”
“Is that what you call picking up your wife?” Yasmin asks, poking him in the side as she joins us. “A pit stop?”
Nixon throws his arm around Yas’s shoulders, pulling her in. “Don’t get all fussy about it, Yas. I had to be here, so I figured I might as well bring my beautiful wife. I need somebody to save me from growing bored out of my mind while I babysit my teammates.”
“What’s my role here, then?” Callie asks as we make our way through the cars parked around the front porch and toward the house.
“You’re the package deal.”
“A pit stop and a packaged deal? Wow, Nix,” Callie rolls her eyes. “You had a way better game before you were married.”
“I don’t need any game, at least not off the football field, since I have the only person I want, and she ain’t getting rid of me that easily.”
I slap him over the shoulder as we climb onto the front porch. “Good luck getting yourself out of that one.”
The party is in full swing as we enter the house. Heads start to turn in our direction instantly, people cheering the moment they notice their star quarterback has finally joined the party.
A few of our teammates rented a house on the outskirts of Blairwood, just near the forest, but the best part is the big-ass backyard. The music was blasting loudly, and somebody pulled out the table and brought a few kegs as well as enough alcohol to get us all drunk. The bonfire is lit in the middle of the clearing, burning brightly. The smell of burnt wood filled the air.
Zane waves us over to the beer keg, handing us each a solo cup as we join him.
“I have to admit, I was worried there for a second since you were struggling with your physical therapy, but it’s good to see you back on the field,” Zane says, clinking his cup against mine.
