They tell you all about the rare complications that could happen going into surgery. There’s always a chance of something going wrong—a bad reaction, stroke, or even death. No matter how much they warn you, though, you never think it’s going to happen to you. Unfortunately, I was one of the unlikely cases that ended up with nerve damage caused by the surgery, and until they figure out how to fix it, I’m not fit to play.
It could be months; it could be years. Hell, it could be until I’m too old and have lost my ability to perform to the standard they require. All I know is that even while being in the best shape of my life, my body failed me.
“Don’t pay attention to that,” Colby pulls my attention away from watching the last moments of my career on a loop. “You’ll end up back out there. I know it.”
I snort and shake my head. “You a doctor now, Hendrix?”
“Damn right, I am. Certified and all by WebMD.”
As I finish putting the last of my stuff into the bag, I turn around to face my best friend. It only takes a second before I notice the dark purple hickey placed in the dead center of his neck.
I flick it with my finger, making him wince. “You better cover that shit up. You know how Coach feels about you partying on nights before practice.”
He rolls his eyes but does exactly what I said, knowing that if he doesn’t, he’ll be running until he vomits all the alcohol he consumed last night.
It doesn’t surprise me, honestly. Colby Hendrix has always been a ladies’ man. His brown hair and baby face make him look innocent enough to be trusted and the digits in his bank account drive it home. He’s one of the best wide receivers in the league, and he’s not beneath bragging about it. Especially if it helps get the girl of his choosing into bed with him. I’ve never cared to ask, but I’m sure if I did, he’d tell me that his motto in life is “less stress, more sex.”
I watch as he dabs on more of the tattoo grade cover-up, making me laugh. “Who the fuck did you sleep with, a goddamn vampire?”
His eyes meet mine through the reflection of the mirror and he simply winks. If I didn’t know him any better, I’d think it was the typical I-don’t-kiss-and-tell answer that respectful guys throw around. However, I do know him, and that wink was his way of getting out of answering questions he doesn’t know the answer to. Having to guess, I’d say he either kicked her out last night or woke up with her this morning and ditched before she had a chance to ask him to stick around. That’s usually his M.O. as the reigning king of one-night stands.
“All right, well you have fun with that. I’m going to head out.”
His brows furrow. “You’re not sticking around to watch practice?”
Slight laughter bubbles out of me. “Do I look like the type for self-inflicted torture?”
Colby smiles, displaying the dimples that match my own—our secret weapon, as we like to call them.
“Okay, touché. I’ll catch you later.”
I grab my back and go to leave, when he opens his mouth once more.
“Oh, by the way, there’s a swarm of media outside. Just a heads-up.”
Groaning, I pull my sunglasses over my face. The last thing I need right now is to get berated with questions by people who don’t deserve the answer. It’s like rubbing salt in my wound. Sure enough, as I turn the corner, there they are—standing around like vultures waiting for their next kill.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Trent Englewood. I swipe it open and bring it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” he greets me, sounding relieved that I answered. “I saw the news. I’m so sorry man. I had no idea.”
I shrug, even though he can’t see me. “It wasn’t really something I wanted to talk about. I think I was in denial about it for a while.”
“I get it, man. That’s really rough.”
Trent is an old friend, someone who has been in my life since we were kids. I wouldn’t call him my best friend, since Colby would slaughter me if anyone else held that title, but he’s definitely my longest friend. He’s the kind of guy I can go months without talking to, and nothing changes. We pick right back up where we left off and it’s like no time has passed. He’s probably one of few people I’ll answer the phone for right now.
“Give me a second. I have to walk through a wall of money-hungry assholes trying to get the inside scoop.”
He chuckles. “Don’t get skinned alive.”
I pull the phone away from my ear and use my arm to shield my face as cameras flash and questions are all but screamed in my face.
Asher, is that all your stuff?
How do you feel about not playing football anymore?
Do you think you’ll ever recover?
If it wouldn’t get me thrown me in jail, I’d probably run them over with my car for sport. The whole group of them follow me all the way from the doors to my black Range Rover and the questions don’t even stop when I’m safely inside. As I start the car, my phone connects to the speaker.
“You still there?”
“Yeah,” Trent responds. “That sounded brutal. How many of them were there?”
I look in my mirrors, just to make sure there’s no one in my way, then pull out of the parking spot. “Not sure, and I’m not sticking around to count.”
He sighs. “Anything I can do to help?”
“You can talk about something else. What’s new with you?”
“Ash, you know there’s never anything to talk about on my side. I’m still teaching a bunch of kids who think their parents’ money is the key to success, and in the summer, I hang out by the pool.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You make that last part sound like a bad thing.”
“It could be more eventful, that’s for sure.”
“I don’t know. I could use a little R&R by the pool.”
To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I let myself just breathe. It was probably back in high school when my family and I took a trip to the Bahamas. Wait, nope. Even then, my dad had me running drills on the beach. I take that back.
“Well, you’re always welcome to come chill by mine,” Trent offers, then pauses for a second. “You know, that might be a good idea.”
“What? Sulk at your place and force you to listen to me bitch and moan?”
He snickers. “No, asshole. Come stay with me for a bit. You know they’re going to be camped out at your place for the next couple weeks, just waiting for a chance to get the inside scoop. At least they won’t know to look for you here.”
It’s not a bad plan, but a part of me is hesitant. “I’m not sure I’d be the best company right now.”
“Do you think I give a shit?” he quips. “Layla is out of the country for the summer and I’ve got the place to myself. We can be bad company together.”
As I turn the corner toward my building, I realize just how right he is. I can already see all the news vans and photographers gathered around outside. While I usually enter through the elevator in the parking garage, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before they infiltrate that as well.
“Alright,” I cave. “Just until all this dies down and they focus on the next poor soul.”