Go Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance(18)

He wasn’t fine. He was still trying to power through.

“Okay then. Let’s see what we can do,” I said, and I started in on a light stretching exercise.

If he was in pain, he did a good job of hiding it. I had to admit that I was impressed. If he was seriously injured, which he really might have been, there should have been considerable pain.

Either he wasn’t as hurt as we feared, or he was good at pretending.

“So listen,” I said, “about Saturday.”

“We don’t have to go over it again,” he grunted. “I know you were right.”

I paused, surprised. I never thought I’d hear those words from him.

“Really?”

“I shouldn’t have gone for it. All that risk for one tiny play that didn’t even matter in the long run.”

I nodded slowly. “Long-term thinking,” I said.

“That’s not my specialty. I live in the moment, and I live fast. Always have.”

“You’re not a kid anymore, Owen.”

“I know that.”

I bit my lip, and we went through a few more stretches. He seemed a little off, but I couldn’t put my finger on why.

“I meant to ask you,” I said finally as we finished one exercise and took a short break. “Who was that guy?”

He looked at me sharply. “What?”

“The guy who visited you when we were in the training room. He was in a suit.” I paused. “You seemed unhappy to see him.”

“Why are you asking?”

“Well, I’ve been asking around, but nobody seems to know him.”

He stared hard at me. “Why would you ask around?”

“Because you seemed upset. I wanted to see if I could help.”

“You can’t help.”

“Okay,” I said, surprised by his sudden change in mood.

“And you should stop asking. That guy was nobody. Forget about him.”

“Okay,” I said again.

Owen struggled to his feet. “I think we’re done for today.”

“We have a few more exercises—” I started to say, but he cut me off.

“See you later.” He turned and quickly left the room.

I stared after him, shocked at how that had played out.

I had suspected he’d be annoyed, but I had never guessed he’d be that angry. Maybe I was being a little pushy, but I meant well.

Still, the whole thing was bizarre. He didn’t want to talk about it, so I was going to drop it, but I knew something else was going on, something on top of his injury and whatever was happening between the two of us. Maybe it was even more important than anything else.

I sat in the training room, alone with my thoughts, trying to figure out where the heck things had gone wrong.





20





Owen





I hated blowing Taylor off like that.

The last thing I wanted was to be on bad terms with her. It fucking pained me to walk away from her, but I couldn’t sit around and try to answer her questions. I wasn’t a good liar, and I was afraid she’d see right through me.

She was too perceptive. It scared me a little bit to think about. She had known something was up with Tony the second she saw him, even though I hadn’t given her any real indication to worry. We spent a lot of time together, and she must have gotten good at reading me.

I had to keep her away from him. It wasn’t just because I was afraid of her finding out about my mafia connections, although that was a real problem. I couldn’t let her get sucked into my fucking bullshit, and I wanted Tony to stay as far from her as possible.

Maybe it was a little too late for that. She was already asking questions, and she probably knew something was up just based on the way I had responded. Maybe she’d back down and let it go, but I doubted that would be the case.

I worried about it all that night on top of my other problems. I hadn’t heard back from the team doctors yet about my MRI, so I had no clue how bad the damage was.

The pain wasn’t awful. It was getting better every day, but I also wasn’t straining it much. Coach had me sitting out of practice and mostly just watching film. That, plus my usual therapy sessions with Taylor.

I had barely missed any field time, and yet I already wanted to get back out there. I hated being on the sidelines instead of in the thick of things. I wanted to burst through the line and break tackles like I normally did. That was the best way for me to get rid of my stress, but it would be stupid to try to push myself. I needed to listen to my coaches and to heal.

The next day, I was in the facility early. I got into the hot tub and soaked myself while I waited for Taylor to come find me.

I heard her voice before I saw her. She was asking people where she could find me, and one of the other trainers pointed her into the hot tub room. She walked inside and sat down on the edge of the tub.

“You look comfortable,” she said.

“I got nothing better to do.”

“We should get to work.”

I sighed. “Ten more minutes.”

“I don’t have ten minutes. I have a schedule.”

I grinned at her. “How about you join me then? We can do some work in here.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Don’t pretend like you already forgot.”

She blushed and looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. I’m talking about the time I fucked you until you begged to come on my big long cock.”

“Owen! Not so loud.”

“Nobody can hear us.”

“Come on, get out. We need to do your stretches.”

“You get in here. I’ll stretch you.”

She made a face. “Don’t be an ass.”

I laughed and stood up. “Fine. Grab me a towel?”

She grabbed one from the stack and tossed it to me, I toweled myself off, wearing only a pair of mesh shorts. I noticed that she was watching me rather intently, but that was okay. I wanted her to think about the other night, about how I had made her body feel. Even if she was pissed at me, I knew she still wanted to feel that way again.

“Come on,” she said. “Now you’re just putting on a show.”

I laughed. “Best show around.”

“Let’s go.”

I followed her back out into the main training room, back into the hall, and down toward our usual spot. We walked into the exercise room, and I watched while she rolled out the padded mats we used.

When she was done, we launched into our normal routine. We weren’t talking much, and I could feel the strain from the day before still settled over both of us. We normally had an easy, comfortable conversation going throughout the whole thing, but this morning it was pure business.

Taylor finished my leg and switched to the other one. “Listen, about yesterday,” I said.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t have been prying.”

“I get it. You just want to help.” I paused. “But that guy is bad news, Taylor. Please, stay far, far away from that man.”

She stared at me for a second and then nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I won’t ask who he is. I just want you to know that you can trust me.”

“I know.”

“Good.” She smiled. “Now leg out, cripple.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As I stretched out, someone appeared in the doorway. Taylor stood up, and I saw the head doctor looking in at us.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Morning, doc,” I answered.

“Doctor Travis,” Taylor said.

“Owen, can I speak with you privately?” he asked.

“It’s okay, doc. Just give it to me here.”

He frowned. “I’d rather we were alone.”

“I’ll leave,” Taylor said, standing.

“Just tell me, doc. Is it bad?”

He sighed. “Well, Taylor, you might as well hear. Owen, there is no permanent or long-term damage to your knee. The scan came back negative. That’s not to say that you’re fine and cleared to play, but I don’t think this is going to end your season.”

That was exactly the news I needed to hear. I let out a huge breath. I felt like an enormous weight was lifted from my chest.

Part of me had thought my career was over. There had been a serious chance that it was, and that little voice in the back of my head hadn’t been quiet about it. I had felt like everything was falling apart around me. Between my injury, Tony, and Taylor, things had been looking bad.

This was some much-needed good fucking news.

“Thanks, doc,” I said. “That’s good news.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank your therapist here. Whatever she’s doing with you is clearly working.”

I grinned at her. “She works me hard.”

“Good,” Doctor Travis said. “I already told Coach Kelly. He’s on his way down here to speak with you now.”

“Thanks, doc.”

“Good luck.” He smiled, nodded, and then left.

Taylor grinned at me. “That’s awesome news,” she said.

“Part of me thought my career was over,” I admitted.

“Not me. I never thought that for a second.”

“Why?”

“Because some stupid injury isn’t going to stop Owen Rack.”

I grinned at her, and I wanted to say something back, but we were interrupted by Coach Kelly coming into the room.

Coach was a short man, pale and in his mid-fifties. His hair was thinning and gray, and he had an intense demeanor. Coach was a drill sergeant, and he expected the team to function exactly the way he wanted it to.