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The rest was a bit of a blur. They brought out the cart and got me strapped in. I answered questions thrown rapid-fire at me by a bunch of medical personnel and accepted well-wishes from my teammates. The next thing I knew, I was blissfully drugged and on my way to the hospital.
Chapter Three
HOLDEN
I could not believe this was happening. After a long-ass career, and losing my job in Seattle to a ridiculously talented quarterback who I wasn’t ashamed to admit outplayed me in the system, here I was. I’d finally made a name for myself in Baltimore and was living up to the lofty nickname the fans and media had given me—the greatest of all time. The G.O.A.T. However, now I was relegated to moral support captain as I sat listening in on the team meeting through a single headphone and watching video on my laptop from the comfort of my not-so-comfortable hospital room. Granted, it was better than most since the team had a private mini wing at this establishment, but it wasn’t home. And it wasn’t that funky-smelling, dingy-painted, cement block room I should be in right now, going over strategy with my brothers.
Nothing about this was okay. All of it fucking sucked.
We had indeed won. Jameson had executed the play perfectly and waltzed in for the score just as my life changed forever. When they finally carted me off the field, our backup quarterback, Mackey, came in and took victory formation. Now, here we were, on our way to the divisional playoffs and then, most likely, the big game with a third-year backup under center.
Fucking toddler got to do what I should be doing.
I knew I shouldn’t be so harsh. And I shouldn’t discount his talent. The guy was good. The general manager and coaching staff wouldn’t have brought him on to be my heir apparent if he wasn’t. But I was also a big enough man to admit that I was bitter that it wasn’t me.
“…what do you think, Holden?”
I realized that someone had asked me a question and tried to focus on the task at hand. While I may not be there with my team, and may even be required to watch both games from my couch like the rest of America if I didn’t get clearance to travel with the group, this was still my responsibility. I was a captain, I would remain as such, and I had a damn job to do.
“I’m sorry, what? I didn’t quite catch that whole thing.” I tried to cover, but I could see the look pass over Coach Williams’ face as he turned back to the projector.
“I asked what you thought of this as an answer to our opponent’s direct-snap play. Do you need me to run the tape again?”
I didn’t want to admit it, but I did. He could rewind and play it, and I could see it from the picture-in-picture we had going in the meeting software.
“If you wouldn’t mind. Let me wrap my head around it a bit.”
When he did as I asked, I paid attention this time, and saw the exact answer we needed. It played out like technicolor 3D in my head, and I could almost taste the excitement my defensive line would feel when they swallowed the guy whole. I relayed my thoughts, and the defense went wild in the room, cheering and giving each other high fives, knowing that we might be able to stop the other team’s most potent maneuver. I may not be on that side of the ball, but I could read defenses like very few in the league could. And that wasn’t just me tooting my own horn. It wasn’t bragging if you could back it up.
The meeting continued in much the same fashion. We got shit done, but I couldn’t stop the pits from growing in my stomach and my throat, or the anger from rising. I even caught myself rubbing my chest at one point to unconsciously alleviate the tension there.
Thoughts of everything currently wrong with my body kept cycling in my head. I had two compound breaks—one in my ankle and the other in my foot—a fracture in my tibia, and a tear in the muscle of my throwing shoulder. Nerves, muscles, and tendons all screwed. Not to mention two surgeries that I had to heal from, and who knew what else to come. I was fucked.
Just as the meeting wrapped up and the guys headed off to the on-field portion of practice—thank God because I could not focus anymore—I heard a light knock on the door.
When I glanced up, the first thing I registered was hair like the sun. Tamryn Miller, my personal fantasy and nightmare all rolled into one. Damn, the woman was beautiful.
That is not something you need to be thinking about right now.
Tamryn flashed a smile. “How are you feeling?” she asked as she made her way into the suite, giving me a better view of her tight jeans, molded tank, and fitted flannel. She had her quilted leather jacket draped over an arm.
Despite the fantastic view that should have been exactly what I needed as a cheer-me-up, I couldn’t stop the bitterness that crept in as I answered. “How the fuck do you think I am?” I shook my head when I saw her flinch a bit. “I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that, Doc. I just got off a video call with the team and I think I’m a little raw. I should be there.”
She rounded the bed and put a gentle hand on my sheet-covered ankle, the left one, not the useless one. I couldn’t look at her. I peered out the window instead. “I know, Holden. This has to be hard for you on many fronts. But I’m here for you. So is the rest of the medical staff. We’re going to get you back up on your feet. We’ll get you walking again. We’ll—”
“You’ll get me doing everything but what I want to be doing. I want to play ball, Doc. Football’s my life. And I no longer have that. So, where does that leave me? With all of you telling me that I’ll never play again. I need to play again.”
I glanced at her then and saw the one thing that I never wanted to see: pity. I was sure she didn’t mean it, but it was there nonetheless, and it made me even angrier than I already was. She cleared the expression quickly and flashed me a genuine smile. I noticed she had a dimple in her left cheek. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen that before.
“Holden, listen to me. And listen carefully.” She took a seat in the chair near the bed, clasping her hands on top of her jacket on her lap. “You are so much more than football. While I know it feels like all hope is lost right now, that is most certainly not the case. We’re going to get through this. And while your playing days are over, none of us knows for sure what the future holds.”
“I don’t need your sunshine and rainbows Polyanna bullshit right now, Doc. So, if that’s what you’ve got for me, you can just leave.”
She looked taken aback for a second but held her ground. “You only get a handful of those, Holden. I know you’re processing, and you’re going to lash out, but that isn’t going to fly for long. We’ll figure this out. Together.”
I sighed. “It’s like you think you can just fix this. This isn’t fixable, Doc. My career is over. There is nothing you can do. And there certainly isn’t anything we can do together. Your time would be better served helping those who can return to the field.”
Together was a foreign concept to me anyway. Sure, I had my teammates, my league friends, and I knew the coaches cared about me, but outside of that… Nope. After my parents’ deaths, my ex-wife had made it very clear that the only person I could rely on was myself. Which was partly why she was no longer a part of my life.
