Page 49 of The Comeback

The push-offs were where I was losing all my time before. I’d been too leery of blowing out my Achille’s again to go full force. However, as I’ve built strength in my ankle and calf, I no longer feel the stretch and twinge of the surgery scars.

The wind whooshes in my ears as the other players on the field work through their drills. I repeat the same pattern in five-yard increments until I’ve sprinted to the 30-yard line and return to the endzone. This was the first drill I did for Coaches Slater, Rowland, and Tillman. I’ve come a long way in a short time.

I stop, grasping my knees, and gasp, sucking down gulps of air.

“Good job.” Coach Rowland smacks my back and shoves the stopwatch in my face. “One second faster than you were before your injury.”

“What?” My mouth drops, and I grab the watch with the black string still strung around his neck, staring at it in disbelief. “That can’t be possible.”

“Well, it is.” He grins and crosses his arms over his chest as I drop the watch from my grasp. The strap catches on his forearms as the watch bounces off his flat stomach. “I’m going to need all my players to take up ballet.”

I wrinkle my nose and glare at the other players as they take turns shoving each other. “Charlotte is busy.”

Coach Rowland chuckles. “A little possessive much?”

“Yes, I am.” Don’t be a baby. You trust her. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken for Charlotte. If you want the team to study ballet, I know she’ll be willing to help or give references for other dance instructors in the area.”

“Nah, man. I’m kidding.” He slaps my back again. “Some of these guys would blow a gasket if I mentioned it.” He tips his head toward two of the defensive players. “Especially those two. Their man boxes are bigger than yours was. But I’m glad you listened to Devin and gave it a shot. She’s been good for you.”

“Thanks.” I rotate my shoulders and rest my hands on my hips. I don’t know what I’d do without her. The sex is amazing, but that’s not it. Or that’s not only it. I never thought I could be this happy and content.

And my mom and sister love her already. Piper is excited to go back to school in the fall and has a new wardrobe and haircut to get her in the front door with confidence. And none of it is black.

Hell, my mom would marry Charlotte at this point.

Marriage? My mouth dries. Am I ready for that kind of commitment? It couldn’t happen at a worse time. Okay. It’s not the worst moment in my life. If I’d met her when I was going through rehab right after my surgery, she would’ve met a dick and never given me the time of day.

But this? This isn’t the best time. I don’t have a contract worked out, and there hasn’t been much movement on that front. And without the stability of a long-term contract and a permanent location, I can’t ask her to marry me. What happens if I land somewhere else? I can’t ask her to go.

Gunner zings a ball down the field, and Devin jumps, easily catching the flying object. “Good toss, old man.” He throws the ball back to Gunner.

“Old man, my ass,” Gunner grumbles and catches the ball. The leather smacks against his palms.

“Well, you are seven months older than me.”

“I’ve never seen your birth certificate.”

They continue to bicker back and forth as they pass the ball. I squat down and re-tie my cleats, ensuring they’re tight and properly secured.

When I stand, Gunner calls out, “Run an out pattern.”

“Sure thing, boss.” I nod. As a running back, I don’t run a lot of receiver plays, but Coach Slater likes to keep his options open.

“Don’t give him a big head,” Devin groans and rolls his eyes, tossing his hands in the air, playing like he’s shoving him away.

“Don’t be a pussy. Put the pants on for once. Always letting my sister boss you around.”

“Bite me, asshole.”

I chuckle at their chatter. If someone didn’t know them, they’d think they hated each other.

Fifteen minutes later, I jog over to the table full of coolers and lift the lid off the blue one, grabbing out a Gatorade. I guzzle half of it down in one gulp, letting the cool liquid replenish my thirst.

“We’re meeting at Gunner’s place Thursday night. With camp coming up next week, we’re having one last party before we’re stuck on the campus dorms listening to each other snore and smelling B.O. You need to come.”

“Thursday night?”

“Yes.” Gunner crosses his arms over his muscular chest. His biceps flex with his movements. “Do you have something better to do?”

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