I’ve been pushing too hard, and my body is finally pushing back.
Talon charges into my room the only way he knows how—with the grace of someone high on PCP. His post-game suit is as disheveled as his golden hair, and he looks frantic.
“What’s the deal?” His gaze travels from my face to my leg, which is being iced. “I saw Tina out in the hall, but she’s busy talking to the doctors.”
“I’m out,” I say, my voice gruff.
“Please tell me only a couple of games. Six tops.”
I force the words past my lips because I don’t want to say them out loud. That’ll make them truer somehow. “The entire season.”
Talon’s expression turns to utter defeat as he runs a hand over his head, messing his hair even more. “Surgery?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Next season?” His voice cracks.
“They can’t say for sure, but the doc said there’s no reason to think I won’t make a full recovery.”
Talon grabs his chest in relief. “Thank fuck.”
I’m grateful he knows this isn’t a time for I told you so. He asked me before we went out on the field, and I basically bit his head off. “I’m sorry for being an asshole earlier.”
“When earlier? You’re an asshole all the time, so I need specifics.”
“When I said I was fine. Should’ve listened.” It’s not hard to see why people think athletes are meatheads, because we don’t use our fucking heads. What’s the point of pushing ourselves past our limits just for the chance to hold a trophy at the end and slip a gaudy ring on our finger?
“Like any of us would’ve listened if we were in your shoes. We’re all pigheaded and stubborn,” Talon says.
“Truth. Please tell me you at least won?”
“Of course, we did. I did this whole huddle thing where I talked you up, being all ‘We have to win this for Miller!’ to get everyone psyched up. Totally worked.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Okay, fine. Jackson said I was being cheesy and cliché, but we won, so it was totally my motivational speech.”
I grin. “What was in your motivational speech?”
“The president’s speech in Independence Day.”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did. Then Jenkins told me to shut up.”
“I think your authority is compromised now.”
“We won, didn’t we? It’s like a loophole. I get to act like a jackass so long as I’m pulling off the wins.”
“Ooh, so that explains your behavior for the last …” I squint as I pretend to count. “Oh, your entire life.”
“Ooh, I almost forgot. I brought you something.” Talon reaches into his pocket and pulls out his middle finger.
I cough in between muffling the word “Mature.”
“Never, under any circumstances, have I ever been accused of being mature.”
The conversation is how any conversation between me and Talon would’ve gone back in the day, and I fucking miss him so much. Having him close has messed with my head like no other person ever has.
“So, umm, yeah, Tina’s getting team management approval for me to go home and have the surgery in New York,” I say.
“What? Why?”
I think it’s panic clouding his eyes.
“I’m gonna be on crutches and need help getting around.”
Talon shrugs. “Come stay with me.”
My brain cannot emphasize how much of a stupid idea that would be. Like beyond stupid. “Mom’s already called me blabbering on about how she’s retired now and bored and needs to fuss. She said it’s her job to look after me.”
Talon used to give me shit in college about being a momma’s boy, but I’m not too proud to admit I owe everything to that woman. She worked two jobs to put my sister and me through college. I had a full ride, but she wanted Vanessa to go to the same school as me so I could look out for her. Mom did everything for me and my sister, and she’s the reason I’m in the NFL today, so generally whatever she demands, she gets.
“Besides, you’ll hardly be there and won’t be much help.”
Not to mention I need a break from being around Talon. Everything comes back to him and me and everything I’ll never have.
Talon pulls up the visitor’s chair next to my bed and slumps into it. “I hear that. My mom’s still mad I didn’t accept the offer from Denver.”
That had confused me as well.
“Why didn’t you go to Denver? Your entire family is there, and you complained about being so far away from them constantly when we were in college. You grew up there—”
“Money. The Warriors offered more.”
“Not buying it. Denver would’ve offered you close to what Chicago did.”
“Not trying to sell it.” Leaning forward, Talon rests his elbows on the side of my bed and clasps his hands together.
This bed is tiny for a normal-sized human, so he’s dangerously close to my thigh, and even though it’d be painful as hell for him to graze his hands over it, I want him to do it.