Page 130 of Falling Stars

“Cut the crap. Your career is on the line here. So I need you to do exactly what I tell you to stay in the game.”

“What you mean is your cut of my salary will be shredded if I can’t play.” In college, I wanted a shark agent to get me the best deal possible. What I didn’t realize at the time is that I’m the bait.

He laughs. “Of course you’re going to play. At the very least,you can recover on the IRL until you’re better. Everyone gets paid that way.”

“Does it matter that I can’t handle plane rides? That the moment the plane landed today and I stood up, I was so dizzy, I had to wait until everyone deboarded before I could stand up?” Sitting for so long in those cramped seats probably pinched a nerve, but riding planes is a prerequisite for playing pro ball because our games are all over the country.

“Look, kid, it happens. So you’ve had a few setbacks. What matters now is what you do to regroup. My advice is to work like hell to get better. We’ll get you some cortisol shots, and you’ll be as good as gold.”

Is that what I want? To need steroids to get through my life?

When we get off the phone, I replay that convo in my head. I think about those ESPN announcers ranking on my rookie season. I think about all the expectations I had for playing in the NFL that never came to fruition.

But mostly, I think about Baylee and Leo.

I debate calling her. I need to talk to someone. I’ve always talked to Rhett or Baylee to help me make the big decisions in my life.

My brothers are flooding our family chat, but it all feels like noise.

The next morning, bleary-eyed and frustrated, I stare at my reflection in the mirror and realize what Baylee was getting at.

No one can help me make this call. It has to be mine.

Vance has a car service pick me up. Once I’m seated in the back, the driver turns to me. “Vance didn’t know which doctor you needed, Dr. Abbott or Dr. Fisher.”

One will likely tell me I should never step on a football field again, while the other one will say whatever I want him to. I made appointments with both because I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.

I could’ve died that day on the field. Instead, I’m here. I have a second chance to go after what I want.

A car honks behind us, and my driver bristles. “Come on, man. I don’t got all day.”

I pull up an address on my phone and show it to him.

With a nod, he pulls away from the curb.

I’m not sure what the future holds, but there’s one thing I need.

And it’s time to get it.

47

BAYLEE

Sweat stings my eyes,and I squint harder. “Damn, Beau. What did you do here?”

Armed with industrial-grade dish gloves, I scrub the sink harder. I’ve thrown open all the windows and am blasting the fan so the fumes don’t bother Leo, who’s napping on the other side of the camper.

Beau sticks his head in the door. “I feel bad that you’re cleaning my place.”

“It’s fine. I’m just really grateful to have somewhere to live. Heck, I’d take a stall in your barn at this point.”

He sits at the small table, seemingly dwarfing everything around him.

“How did you even fit in here?”

Beau chuckles. “Carefully.”

When silence falls, I studiously ignore the question I want to ask.

---