AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Damn, that hurts.
It wouldn’t even be so bad if it was the first time. But nope, this was the fifth time I’ve been tackled. Today.
Gregory offers me his hand, and I take it, leaning on him way too much for my liking as he helps me to my feet.
“You okay?” Nixon asks as he joins us, his worried eyes taking me in.
“Yeah, fine,” I bite out, irritated with myself.
I take a step, ready to get back to my spot, but my leg buckles underneath me, making me stumble.
Fucking hell.
I try to conceal it, but apparently, I’m not doing a good job because I find Coach watching me. He tilts his chin toward the bench. “Wentworth, get your ass out. Sullivan, you’re in.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re done for today, Wentworth.”
I glare at the man, but he just scowls right back, not in the least bit fazed by my animosity.
“Fine,” I grit. Pulling off my helmet, I stomp—okay, limp—toward the tunnel that leads to the locker room.
The place is completely quiet since the rest of my teammates are out on the field where I should be—playing right alongside them. Not Sullivan.
“Fuck!” I throw my helmet at the locker. There’s a loudbangas it hits the metal and bounces to the floor.
I run my fingers through my hair and hobble to the bench. Putting in my combination, I rip the locker open and grab my bag, the pulsing pain in my leg growing stronger. I’ve been working without pain meds for the last few days, and each day I’ve gotten worse. Slower and clumsier.
Me: I need more.
My fingers grip the phone as I stare at the screen. I’m not sure what the protocol for this kind of thing is. The dude said to text. But should I tell him what I need? Should I tell him my name? Should I have even texted him from my regular phone?
“Shit. This is such a bad idea.”
But what other choice do I have? If I don’t start playing like usual, people are going to start asking questions. Not Coach, though. He’ll put my ass on the bench faster than I can say touchdown while putting somebody else on the field.
Somebody like fucking Sullivan.
Over my dead body.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I can feel my heart speed up in anticipation as I open the message.
Unknown: ???
Seriously? That’s the best he’s got?
Me: Pain meds?
Unknown: Oh… Mr. Football player.
Unknown: No worries I’ve gotcha, mate.
Me: When?
Unknown: In a hurry?
Fuck this shit.
