Page 99 of Blitzing Emily

“I wanted to see how the rookies handled a game situation. Obviously, it wasn’t the greatest decision I could have made.” Emily saw his slow grin. “This’ll give me a chance to catch up on my knitting or something.”

“This is your fiancée Emily’s first NFL game. Sources are telling us that you asked the coach to play as a result.”

The smile didn’t leave Brandon’s lips, but his eyes hardened. Emily wondered if anyone but her would notice the change in his expression. Brandon spoke before she’d even put the microphone back up to his mouth. “Not true,” he snapped, and the reporter looked surprised.

“Back to you, guys,” she said quickly.

The picture switched to several sportscasters sitting in a studio. “Thanks, Courtney,” one of them said. “Let’s face it, this wouldn’t be the first time a player has asked to play a few downs because a loved one was in the stadium watching, but this could be disastrous for the Sharks’ defense.”

“McKenna’s played thirteen years without significant injury,” a second man said, “which is almost unheard of in the NFL. Our sources state he’s worked hard in the weight room and with the trainers as the years have passed, and it shows on the field. He’s had the usual twisted ankles, bumps and bruises, but for the most part, he’s the workhorse in a punishing defense. It’s early. It’s hard to say what effect this will have on the team. One thing’s for sure, it’s had a fairly immediate effect on McKenna.”

“Yeah,” the third announcer sighed. “Thigh bruises are a bitch.”

The Sharks ended up winning the game. Emily wanted to call Brandon’s cell phone, but she didn’t want to bother him. It turned out she didn’t have long to wait. Her phone rang as they walked through the stadium on their way to Amy’s minivan.

“Hey, sugar.” Brandon’s voice was a bit slurred.

“Hi, baby. How are you feeling?”

“Youreallywannaknow.” He was either drunk, or partaking of significant pharmaceuticals. “Can’t drive. Need a ride home.”

“Tell me where to meet you.”

“Lockerroom. AskAmy.”

“I’ll be right there. Just—just sit tight.” She hung up the phone. “I hope you know where the locker room is,” Emily said to Amy.

AFTER A QUICKconference Amy and Emily decided it would be easier to get Brandon into the minivan. To say that he was high on painkillers was an understatement. “Sugar,” he shouted triumphantly when he saw them. “We won.”

“Yes. I saw that. You sacked the quarterback, too.”

“I did. Where’s my kiss? I deserve one.” He gave her a loopy grin.

Damian poked his head out of the locker room door. “Have fun with him, darlin’.” He rolled his eyes.

“What if he wipes out on the way into his house? What will I do?”

Emily tried to hang onto her calm, but it wasn’t working. Brandon’s leg was wrapped in Ace bandages and ice packs from hip to knee. She couldn’t imagine how she’d be able to maneuver him around.

“He’s a bit looped, but he’s not incapacitated,” Damian said. “You’ll need to keep the ice packs on him. When you get him home, put him to bed. Don’t let him get up and roam around the house.”

She couldn’t imagine how she could stop a man who was a foot taller and outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds from doing anything at all.

The trainer and the team’s doctor came to the rescue, pouring Brandon into the passenger seat of Amy’s van. “McKenna, you’ll need to stay low and ice this for a couple of days,” the doctor said. “I’ll give your medication to Emily. Don’t be a martyr. If you keep up on the pain meds, it’ll actually help you heal faster.”

“Hokay. Sugarwill take care of it.”

Emily took the prescription bottle the doctor handed her, and slipped it into her handbag. Brandon launched into a disjointed story about a game he’d played in college in which a live alligator somehow got onto the playing field. Then he forgot what he was talking about and started complaining about the cleating he’d received. If she didn’t feel like she wanted to cry, it would’ve been funny.

“Jesus, Doc, that hurt like a mother— Sorry, sugar. I shouldn’t talk this way in front of a lady.”

“I’m sure she understands,” the doctor assured him. “He should be out like a light before you even get him home,” he said to Emily. “See if you can get him to lie down on his bed, or into an easy chair. Keep up on the ice. If you can’t get ice into a gallon Ziploc, bags of frozen peas work well.”

The team trainer stuck his card in her hand. “My cell phone’s on there. If you need anything, call me.”

Amy handed Emily her car keys, and reached out for Brandon’s shorts pocket. “I’ll drive your rig home for you, big guy.”

He roused for a moment, looked down at the hand fiddling in his pocket, and fixed Amy with a pointed look. His hand shot out to grab her wrist. “Don’t touch my junk.”

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