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I give her a quick pat on the shoulder and then jog out to the middle of the field, sure to stay as light as possible on my feet. It’s not easy.
We're practicing another passing play, with me as the wide receiver this time. I run full steam ahead, keeping my eyes on the ball, and it’s coming in fast. I’ll have to adjust quickly to make sure I can catch it. Everything else fades away, and all that matters is getting my hands around that piece of leather.
I zero in on the ball as it heads directly for me, leaping in the air for the catch. A rush of excitement fills me when my fingertips connect with textured leather, and I stretch my fingers wide to wrap my hand around the ball. But as I clamp down on it, securing it in my grip, another player comes from behind and tackles me—hard.
My body is slammed into the ground like a ton of bricks. A wave of dizziness washes over me, my vision goes blurry with black at the edges as I gasp for breath. Every muscle in my body stiffens and I feel like a board that’s been hit with a sledgehammer, or ten. Stars are circling and I can't think straight.
The sound of cleated feet pounding turf emerges through the ringing in my ears as everybody rushes over. My hip is going to sport a big-ass bruise, and my knee throbs like a motherfucker. Again.
When I eventually peel my eyes open, a crowd of worried faces stare down at me. It takes everything I've got to shake off the pain and roll to my knees so I can somehow get to my feet. And I know it’s going to suck. This time, I can hide nothing. It's all I can do to not throw up.
Two guys shove their massive bodies under my armpits and help me hobble over to the bench where everyone is waiting for me.Even with their assistance, every step is excruciating.
Roni rushes in, shoving her way past Coach and Noah to check on me.
Mitch just steps aside and lets her take his spot.
But Coach and Noah are in my face before she or Mitch can speak. Noah already has an ice pack ready in his hand. He looks at me sternly, but there’s kindness in his tone. “How bad?”
I grimace and nod weakly, too sore to even speak, let alone argue or pretend, knowing this will take more than a few days off work to heal properly.
I pushed.
I fucked up.
“Listen,” he says in my ear, his voice low so the others can't hear, “come see me in my office tomorrow morning, early enough that we can have a little chat before the others arrive.” He gives me an appraising look, glances at Coach, and then pats me on the shoulder as he turns and walks away.
I take that to mean I'm done for the day.
“Why don't we get you home so you can get off your feet, and we'll order in dinner like you suggested earlier?”
Although I had every intention of spending the night between Roni’s sweet thighs, now I'm not sure I'll be good company. I ignore her and turn to my agent.
“What do you think?” I ask Mitch.
He scrubs a hand over his face, roughly sighs, and then shoves them deep into his pockets before he looks me square in the eye. “I think you need to take Roni up on her suggestion. Go home. Get some rest. Tomorrow you'll meet with the doctor, and he'll give you his recommendation. Don't be surprised to find Coach there as well.”
“Seriously? You think it's that bad? I can't be benched, man. My stats are already starting to dive. I need to be playing, Mitch. You're my agent. I need you to help me.”
He places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. “I am, Drew. Remember, I've been in the same position. They're only going to pull you long enough to heal. The rest is up to you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” My anger is rising. This is my fucking livelihood. What the fuck do I do if I'm not playing football?
“It means, depending on what Noah says, you may need to decide if you're willing to risk an injury so severe that it leaves permanent damage. That may not be this time. But it could be next time. You're young enough to have a second career, Drew, if it comes to that. All I'm saying is keep your mind open.”
Easy for him to say.
“Like I said, I've been in your cleats. I know what I'm talking about. We'll connect tomorrow after your meeting.” And with that, he gives a final nod, a wave to Roni, then turns and walks away following Noah off the field.
“Drew?”
I hear the uncertainty, the care. I want to make an excuse, but I can't think of a thing to say that won’t sound bitter right now. As I glance at Roni from the corner of my eye, I know I have to get out of here. “If you don't mind, I think I'll just call it a day.”
Without waiting for a response, I grab my bag, avoiding eye contact with her and the others. My heart is heavy, and my mood is tanking fast. I’m desperate to run away as fast as I can, but my leg hurts too fucking bad. Instead, I limp my way to the locker room, with Roni's sympathetic gaze searing into my back. I resist looking over my shoulder, knowing the look of pity on her face would be too much to handle.
At eight sharp the following day, following minimal sleep due to the incessant pain, I’m knocking on Noah's office door. He immediately sends me over for new x-rays and an MRI telling me he's put a rush on the results. By the time I get back to his office, I'm a nervous wreck. My stomach is in knots. My hands are shaking, and I can't stop the bounce in my good knee.
He has me sit while he reviews my medical report and the new scans. After going through everything, he slowly turns toward me with a severe expression.
