Levi and Dylan exchanged knowing looks. They loved the game of football. However, the owners almost always put business first. Though in recent years, the commissioner took a harder line on drug abuse and domestic violence, now and then the league still turned a blind eye.
“One thing’s almost certain,” Dylan said. “Between the drunk driving charges and the injuries sustained in the crash, Monte won’t play football again this year.”
“Seems unlikely,” Levi agreed. “Though stranger things have happened. If he heals faster than expected, you never know.”
“The Knights won’t have him back,” Dylan said with absolute certainty.
Dylan was right. Monte had burned his last bridge with the team that drafted him out of college. He’d been on thin ice before today’s accident. Now, all that was left beneath the former college standout’s feet was frigid water. If he were smart, he’d swim as fast as possible to the nearest rehab facility.
Levi wanted to believe that Monte would view what happened in the Walmart parking lot as a wakeup call. As a chance to ask for help and rebuild his reputation and his career.
“Monte’s ego is too big and his head too thick. He won’t admit he has a problem,” Dylan said, easily reading Levi’s thoughts because they mirrored his. “What do you want to bet he has an excuse? Faulty brakes, most likely. Or, he wasn’t drunk, the breathalyzer test was faulty.”
“Nothing we haven’t heard before.” Dreading what was to come, Levi stopped at the hospital room door. “Remind me again why we’re here?”
“Don’t ask me,” Dylan said. “You’re the one who insisted we come. Remember? When I balked, you said, and I quote, ‘Solidarity between teammates is an unwritten rule.’ Unquote.”
“And you bought into that piece of crap reasoning?” Levi grumbled. “You never listen. Why’d you pick today to start?”
“Because I knew you’d come even if I refused.” Dylan’s lip curled into a sneer. “You have a streak of nobility too long and wide for anyone’s good.”
“Look who’s talking,” Levi argued. “How many times have you bailed your brother out of one fix or another?”
“Last time was the last time,” Dylan said, a hard edge entering his voice. “Mom can lay the guilt on as thick as she wants, I won’t budge.”
Sympathetic to the pressure family could bring, yet unconvinced Dylan could break the cycle he’d been in most of his life, Levi took out his phone and hit the record button.
“What?” Dylan demanded with a frown as he pushed the phone away from his face.
“Repeat what you just said. I want to have a copy to replay when you’re about to cave like the last time. And the time before. And the time before that.”
“Fuck off,” Dylan said and pushed his way past Levi.
Suppressing a chuckle, Levi followed. The room was large and filled with flowers. The overdone floral arrangements reminded him too much of a funeral for comfort, but that was his opinion—one he planned to keep to himself since he was certain the senders meant well.
When the sound of laughter greeted them, Dylan shot a look of surprise at Levi. They’d expected something a tad more somber. Instead, Monte was surrounded by a jovial group of men close to his age.
“Look who’s here,” Monte called out from his bed. “Levi and Dylan. Come and meet my posse.”
“Posse?” Dylan whispered out the side of his mouth. “They look more like white rapper rejects.”
Levi covered his laugh with a cough as he shook hands with the group of friends. His gaze turned to Monte. The young man didn’t look half bad, all things considered Then again, he didn’t look great, either. Depended on which point of view a person chose to take.
“How are you feeling?” Dylan asked.
“Royally pissed,” Monte huffed. “Between the faulty brakes on my car and the asshole cop who screwed up the sobriety test, my lawyer says I have good grounds for a couple of lawsuits.”
Dylan made the right call, Levi thought. Bad brakes and a messed-up breathalyzer. While it seemed unlikely Monte would get too far on either claim, delusional jerks tended to grasp at the most minute straws.
“One thing I can’t complain about is the service.” His cocky grin firmly in place, Monte rubbed his chin. “I have a pretty little nurse who can’t do enough for me. She happily shaved my handsome face without a single nick. Can hardly wait for my sponge bath.”
Monte’s skeevy laugh—echoed by his cohorts—made Levi’s skin crawl. He made a mental note to stop at the reception desk on the way out and strongly recommend the hospital give their celebrity patient in room 455 a male nurse from now on.
“What’s the damage?” Levi asked as he nodded toward the pair of casts on Monte’s right arm and left leg.
“A couple of clean breaks,” Monte said. “Doctor thinks I should be ready for action before the end of the season.”
With only ten weeks left—eleven with the bye week—Levi doubted that such a quick recovery was possible. Doctors tended to give conservative estimates which made him wonder if Monte hadn’t heard what he wanted and ignored the rest.
“Better to take your time, do a thorough rehab, and make certain your injuries are fully healed before you try to make a comeback,” Levi reasoned.
“Listen to the old man,” Monte scoffed. His affable expression turned sour. “Think you’ll finally get your shot at starting QB? I’ll eat my cleats if management isn’t on the phone right now lining up someone younger and more talented.”
Levi could see the tension enter Dylan’s body. He shook his head, telling his friend not to make a scene. While the support was appreciated, for once, Monte was probably right. The truth stung, but he’d dealt with this kind of situation before and the result was always the same.
Fans wanted wins and teams wanted their
