The End Zone (Atlanta Lightning 2)

I rubbed a hand over my chest, as if that would ease the emotion blooming there. “You really are good at this.”

“Please, like I don’t know it.” She winked.

“Thanks, Momma. For always having our backs, for doing whatever you could to give me and Mia a good life and a strong foundation. And for supporting me even though this isn’t the future you saw for me. It means the world to me that you love him.”

“All I saw for you, all I wanted for you, is someone who loves you and makes you happy. That’s all a good mom cares about.”

She reached over and squeezed my hand, before smiling over my shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Jeremy said.

“You didn’t. You were right on time,” I told him.

He grinned, came closer, and kissed my cheek. “Is there anything I can help with, Jada?”

“Sure thing. Darren, you get your butt up too. I don’t care if you only have one hand, the people in this house help,” Momma said.

I laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”

It wasn’t long before Dad, Lee, and Mia came in too. Luckily, we had a big kitchen. Momma directed us, and we all got to work on Christmas dinner.

A couple weeks after the holiday, I was finally getting set free.

It was crazy how much muscle mass a limb could lose in such a short period of time.

I stared at my right arm, unable to keep from comparing it to my left, and damn, I didn’t like the results. “So what’s the plan? How often is rehab, and what can I do at home to get this process moving?”

I was caught between feeling really fucking glad that my arm was free and worrying about the best way to get it back into its previous shape in as little time as possible. If my recovery was slow, that would only hurt me as a free agent.

“You don’t want to rush it,” Jeremy said.

“I don’t?” I asked, making him roll his eyes.

“Your…partner is right, Darren. I know everything in sports is accelerated, and I know in your mind the quicker the better, but I think in terms of the healthier the better. You need to do what’s right for your arm. You might get there with rehab—everything falling into place for a speedy recovery—but there could also be hiccups along the way, so you should be prepared for that. If you rush things, you run the risk of long-term damage.”

I knew all that. I didn’t want to think about it, but I knew it. I just wanted to be healthy. I wanted to be able to play.

The orthopedist examined me, did x-rays and shit like that, then walked us over to the rehab facility, which was in the same building.

“Hey, Mr. Edwards. Ready to get to work?” Elliott, the physical therapist, asked.

“Past ready.”

His eyes flickered over to Jeremy, then back to me. It was annoying as hell. Not that I was embarrassed to be with Jeremy, but Christ, did people have to gawk? He wouldn’t be doing this if I were with a woman.

“Come with me, please. We’ll give it a test run today and work up a plan. Your partner is welcome too. We don’t usually do that, but…” Again with the look at Jeremy, then me, then back to Jeremy again.

Yes, I wanted to yell, he’s my fucking boyfriend. Get over it.

“I can wait,” Jeremy said.

“No. Stay.” I reached over and grabbed his hand.

“Oh…kay…” I could tell Jeremy was surprised, probably because I wasn’t typically the type to try and get away with shit just because of who I was.

Elliott led us to the other side of the room, and we started out easy, mostly to stretch the muscles. He was telling me about the exercises I needed to do at home, that he had paperwork that went over how to perform them, but the whole time, I felt his eyes in a different way. I felt like a show, like Jeremy and I were a show to him, and any minute now he’d pull his phone out the way the kids at the drive-thru had, so he could say he saw Darren Edwards with his boyfriend.

Would it always be like this? Feel like people were fucking watching us?

When Jeremy asked a few questions, getting ideas for how he could help, I got a little mushy inside and almost forgot that I was annoyed with Elliott the Examiner, but then he gave Jeremy and me this fake grin that made me growly again. I’d been like that a lot lately. I was lucky Jeremy put up with my shit.

We finished the appointment, had others scheduled, and I tried to pull myself out of my bad mood. I was starting physical therapy, which I would fucking kick ass at, which would make Atlanta sign me again, and everything would work out.