Page 89 of Against the Clock
It’s my fucking medical records.
I swallow. I might be half ready to retire, I might have one foot out of the league already, and deep down, I know my heart hasn’t been in it the same this season, but I want to retire on my own fucking terms. I don’t want to be forced out like this.
Not like this.
“I’m going to be real with you, Daniel, because we have a history, and that’s what you deserve.”
He’s about to put me down like a fucking prize stallion. I can just fucking feel it.
“Doc says you aren’t progressing like you should in rehab. Doc says your shoulder isn’t looking good, that you need some time off.”
He pauses, waiting for a response. I just stare at him. I’m not going to say shit. I’m not some fucking rookie looking to impress him or mouth off.
I wait.
He sighs, glancing at Dale.
If Dale delivers the news, I’m going to have to try not to sucker punch the fucker.
“Do you think it’s time to bring in Gustafson?”
I blink. He’s asking me if I want to step down and let the second-string quarterback take over?
“I believe in you,” he continues, and I’m too taken aback to do more than watch him. “I believe that you can lead this team to victory, like you did at State, like you did with the Mustangs. Do we have a shot at the playoffs? Maybe. Either way, I want you to tell me if you’re too hurt to keep grinding out there. I trust you. I think you’re the quarterback and team captain we need.”
Warmth and relief war in my chest. He’s not cutting me.
“My shoulder’s fine, Coach,” I lie. “Never been better.”
He puts an elbow on the desk, then points at me. “You won’t let me down, Daniel. That’s why I brought you on. You and me? We’re practically family. I know I can count on you to do the right thing.”
It feels good. I might be pushing forty, but Coach has always been more like a father to me than anything else.
It feels good to hear him say it, and fuck, maybe I needed to hear it.
Because now? Now I want to get back on that field and prove him right about me.
“You got it, Coach. I won’t let you down.”
“That’s all then, Daniel. See you tomorrow.”
I nod, ignoring the way it pulls the muscle, pain slamming down my arm.
“Tomorrow,” I echo, and with that, I’ve been dismissed.
I don’t want to let Coach down.
I want to win.
I want to go out on top.
CHAPTER 37
KELSEY
By the time Friday rolls around, I’ve never been more ready for the weekend. Daniel and I have both been busy, and though we’ve texted, we haven’t seen each other since Tuesday night.
I miss him more than I thought I would.