Page 52 of Captured Love

I walk over, dodging a duffel bag someone tosses across the lobby. Coach hands me a keycard and gives me a once-over. “You alright? How’s the shoulder?”

“It's good, Coach,” I say, rotating my arm to show I'm fine. There’s still a little pain, but it’s gotten better mostly on its own. I still want to beat the shit out of Beck, the Saints’ player who caused this.

“Make sure you're icing it. We need you at full strength for tomorrow.” He pauses, his expression softening just a bit. “And get some rest, Knox. You look beat.”

“Will do,” I say, though I'm already calculating how many hours of sleep I can get once my head hits the pillow.

I take the elevator up to the fourth floor, where the team has a block of rooms reserved. The hallways are lined with ugly, floral-patterned carpet, and gaudy sconce lighting. It’s the kind of place that probably looked nice twenty years ago but now just comes off as dated. I find room 412 and swipe my keycard. The door clicks open, and I step into the suite. It’s a decent setup with two queen beds, a small desk, and a TV.

Wilder bursts in behind me and I’m not sure why I’m surprised. He flings his bag onto one of the beds and plops down, already scrolling through his phone. He looks up at me tilts his head and says, “Are you a zombie?”

I stop moving and stare at him. “What?”

“I mean usually you do have a stick up your ass, but it seems particularly wedged up there today.”

“You know that you can just fuck all the way off, right?”

“Come off it, man,” Wilder stays, sitting up and tossing his phone aside. “I’m just messing with you. But seriously, what’s going on? You’ve been in la-la land this whole trip.”

I sigh and rub my temples. The throb in my head is getting worse. “It's nothing. As I told Coach, I’m just tired. Need to rest up for our game tomorrow.”

Wilder studies me for a moment, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. For all his goofing around, he's still very perceptive. He knows when something's up.

“You need to get laid.”

That wasn’t what I was expecting him to say, but I should have been.

“Wilder, seriously,” I groan, collapsing onto the other bed. I don’t want to deal with this.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, undeterred. “Sex is a great stress reliever. And we’re in a hotel, dude. It’s practically tradition.”

I prop myself up on an elbow and glare at him. “Tradition? You mean like how you hooked up with that cheerleader a while ago and her boyfriend tried to kill you?”

He grins, unfazed. “Worth it.”

I flop back down and close my eyes, trying to will the headache away. Maybe Wilder's right; maybe I do need to get laid. But the only person I want to hook up with is Selene. I wonder what she’s doing right now. I also wonder what is wrong with me.

Wilder must sense he’s losing me because he changes tactics. “Look, all I’m saying is that you’re wound tighter than usual. You used to be somewhat fun, man. What happened?”

“Nothing. Now drop it.”

Wilder puts his hands up as if to show he means no harm. “Fine. What I really came up to tell you was that I checked outthe pool and it looks sick. You sure you don’t want to come? Might be relaxing.”

I consider it for a moment. The cool water might do my shoulder some good, and who knows, maybe blowing off some steam with the guys would help clear my head. But then I think about Selene and how every spare minute I sink into this team takes away from time I could be spending with her.

“Rain check,” I say, kicking off my sneakers. “I just need to lie down for a bit.”

Wilder shrugs and stands, stretching like a cat. “Suit yourself. Don’t die of boredom while I'm gone.” He grabs a towel and swim trunks from his bag and heads for the door.

“Wilder,” I call out just as he’s about to leave.

He turns, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”

“I appreciate it,” I say, not really sure what I'm thanking him for. His concern, maybe. His stupid jokes. The fact that we are sharing a room this weekend and he will have to put up with me sulking this trip.

He gives me a nod. “Don't mention it. Everything is good.” With that, he slips out the door, leaving me alone in our suite.

I sit there in silence for a few minutes before my phone makes a light noise. I reach over to grab it and check the message.

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