Page 3 of The Off-Limits Play

It’s a real shame, because I’ve always been attracted to football players. There’s something so strong and primal about the way they move. They’re warriors on this field, and it’s a hot rush watching them.

“For what?”

I blink, trying to figure out how to respond to his question, but then Daddy Dearest goes and does it for me.

“Nylah!” he bellows across the field. “That boy doesn’t have time to chat!”

Well, shit. What else is new? I can always rely on my father to spoil the fun.

Raising my hand, I give him a wave. “Hey, Dad.”

“Dad?” Carson whips back to give me a frown that’s actually kind of comical. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

I snicker and shake my head. “I’ll see you around, Mr. Attitude.”

“That’s the lamest insult ever. You know that, right?”

His dry look makes me laugh. “I’ll keep working on it, then.” With a playful wink, I wave goodbye and head across the field to my father.

As usual, his smile changes to one of fatherly adoration. He might be strict and bark like a drill sergeant when he’s with his players—or trying to get us to do our chores and homework—but usually he’s a big ol’ marshmallow with us.

“Hey, boss.” I smile at him, trying to counter the fact that his expression is changing to one of marked concern.

“Where’s your cane?”

Great. Here we go.

“You’re supposed to be using it.”

“I don’t need it all the time.”

“I can see you limping.” He points at my leg, and I hate that he’s proving me right.

With a sigh, I admit, “I left it in my dorm. I hate that thing.”

“It’s not about how you feel, it’s about what’s best for your body.”

“Everybody stares at it,” I snip back. “I never wanted to start college with this big stigma. It’s bad enough that I’m a year behind everybody else.” I try to soften my frown and add a touch of pleading to my tone. “Come on, Dad. Just let me do this my way, okay?”

We’ve had this argument so many times already, and before it can really get started, I lean in and hug him.

That always makes him more pliable, and the second his arms come around me, I grin, knowing I’ve deferred the cane argument until I get home and Mom finds out about it.

Shit.

I’m so over this.

My life would be so different if I hadn’t?—

Snapping my eyes shut, I squeeze Dad a little tighter before pulling out of the hug.

Dwelling on my past and my stupid mistakes doesn’t change the fact that my life is what it is. I walk with a limp, and I may be doing that for the rest of my life. The physical therapist said I’ve made huge improvements. I’ve spent hours with the guy, and he’s always been honest with me.

“Your leg was severely crushed. With the amount of metal you’ve got in there holding it together, you’ve made huge gains. I’m proud of you, Ny. But you have to face reality. You’ll never get full functionality back. That’s just the way it is.”

That was an epic blow.

I used to run track. I used to play tag with my siblings. I used to walk this planet with a careless abandon.

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