Page 41 of Before You (Reckless Love #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

JJ

TRENT AVOIDING ME is something I don’t mind, except when he’s also doing it on the field, throwing off the balance of our team.

Coach Dixon, our head coach, is losing his fucking mind on the sidelines, but I’m right there with him, barely keeping a grip on my temper.

I haven’t touched the ball the entire fucking game, but I think the only thing to possibly make this worse is if I got in Trent’s face for letting personal shit affect football.

After throwing an interception while trying to get it to our wide receiver who has been double teamed all day, he’s making it painfully obvious to everyone who he has a problem with.

The Colorado Cougars defense isn’t even bothering to cover me with anyone, and Trent is still choosing to ignore every play involving me.

It’s embarrassing and it makes both of us look bad. I clench my hands in my gloves as our crowd jeers at Trent, clearly frustrated with the numbers on the scoreboard.

“What the fuck is he thinking?” Asher asks, lowering his voice. “Is he really going to blow this game rather than get the damn ball to you?”

I thought the end of it would have been the shitty practice yesterday.

“Apparently,” I answer, trying to keep myself composed before I make everything worse.

I didn’t mean to pin him against the wall—actually, even thinking that is a lie.

My only regret is it happened in front of Marley.

Despite nothing happening while they were still together, I know she feels guilty for the timing of everything.

We haven’t exactly had a chance to talk about the other night because she was pretty shaken up after Asher came to get Trent, and then my parents got here.

I know how big I am, and I try to be nothing but gentle with her because I know how intimidating I can come across, but my temper slipped hearing the shit he was saying to her. I don’t want her to be afraid of me or think I’m capable of being violent, but I’m going to protect the people I love.

I couldn’t stand there and listen to him berate her for something that never happened because us being together isn’t wrong. She’s the only thing in a long time to make sense to me.

I glance up at the box my family is in today, and I can only imagine how pissed off my family is. This clearly wasn’t the game for them to come to, but nevertheless, I’m glad they’re here.

“Fuck this,” I mumble under my breath, spraying water into my mouth.

“Whatever the fuck happened between you, fix it,” Luka says, moving to stand next to me.

“How do you want me to do that?”

He smacks my back, a grunt slipping from my mouth. “You’re supposed to be the smart one. Figure it out because our shit is getting rocked out there.”

I scoff, walking toward where Trent is watching the field further down the sideline. I guess our offensive coordinator is done yelling at him until the next time we come off the field. He catches sight of me and immediately turns away, but I’m sick of this.

“Look, we don’t have to like each other, but you’re screwing everyone over by not getting the ball to me.

I’ve been wide open the entire game after you made it clear to the other team you have a problem with me.

Grow the fuck up and leave your shit off the field, or do everyone a fucking favor and don’t bother going back out there. ”

He turns to stare at me, a hard expression on his face. I’m not interested in anything he has to say, though, so I walk away, antsy to get back on the field.

This is a fucking nightmare, but it only further proves Trent is a piece of shit who was never good enough for Marley. Hell, I’m not even sure if I’m good enough, but I’m willing to try.

Shaking off the fact we’re down eighteen points is hard, but if we can get our shit together and give our defense a break, we might be able to come back from this deficit.

I listen carefully, awaiting the play to be called, and I try not to react when Trent actually calls a passing play involving me. Maybe he does have some common sense after all.

The minute the snap occurs, I take off, pumping my arms and legs as no one covers me, trying to set myself up correctly for Trent’s throw. Turning my head, I catch sight of the perfect spiral heading my way. I reach out, but as the ball hits my hands, I’m hit hard from the side.

All the air is immediately knocked from my lungs as I land on the ground hard, my knee twisting underneath me as the other player lands on top of me.

The knee I should have had safely enveloped in a brace to protect it, but I stubbornly thought I was fine.

The ball is cradled to my chest, but I see stars in my vision from the pain coursing through my body.

The other guy climbs up, and I hear whistles blown as my lungs try to refill with oxygen.

My jaw is clenched, trying to keep any sound from escaping as I roll, trying to give myself a second before attempting to get up. No pop. There wasn’t a pop.

“Walker, did you hit your head? Can you get up?” Billy’s voice asks next to me.

I gnash my teeth together, inhaling sharply before sitting up.

“As much as you deny it, I knew you cared about me, Billy,” I joke, mustering a smile as she kneels next to me.

I’m momentarily blinded by the light she shines in my eye, checking for signs of concussion, and I push her hand away.

“I didn’t hit my head,” I say, and she frowns, reading between the lines.

“Is your knee okay?” she asks, and this time, I don’t deflect from the question when answering. Billy has the authority to pull me from this game in a heartbeat if she wants to.

“I’m fine—honestly. I just got the wind knocked out of me,” I say, and Billy purses her lips.

“I’m pulling you this half.”

“Billy—” I protest, but she crouches down, slipping my arm around her shoulders to help me up.

“Do not argue with me if you even want to think about re-entering this game, Walker.”

I snap my mouth shut, rise to a standing position with the help of Billy, and my knee is already protesting. I’m fine. It’ll be fine. I take a step, grimacing at the pain I feel, but I also feel immense relief because it’s not torn, even as I limp with Billy’s help. Everything will be fine.

I take a seat on the bench, pulling my helmet off as Coach Dixon hovers to observe Billy’s examination of my knee as the game continues.

“Does this hurt?” Billy asks, rotating my knee in. It doesn’t feel great, but it’s not the worst pain in the world.

“It’s fine. Just get me an ice pack and I’ll be fine.”

She twists it outward now and a yelp slips through my clenched teeth as my hands grip the bench tightly. “Motherfucker! When you twist it like it belongs on a doll, it’s obviously going to fucking hurt.”

“Language!” Billy corrects, shooting me a sharp look as our offensive coach glances in our direction.

“Billy, will he be able to go back in?” Coach Dixon asks, his head turning to look at the scoreboard.

She looks at me, her eyes surprisingly sympathetic before shaking her head. “Not this half. I want to take him back to the training room to do a more thorough evaluation—ice, heat, all the works. Walker might be able to go back in after halftime.”

“I’m fine,” I protest, but I’m ignored.

I could scream, except no one would listen. No one is ever listening to me because I’m the one who’s supposed to keep everyone together. I’m the one who’s supposed to be fine.

~

It was risky, but I snuck an extra pill during the chaos of halftime which helped everything fade away, including my anger toward Trent, but I’m not wasting any more time on him.

There’s no sign of a limp in my step, but I still didn’t go back in.

By the time Billy was done examining me, their lead was too great, so the coaching staff decided it’d be better for me to rest than risk an injury by allowing me to go back in.

While I understand their reasoning, I could have helped.

Ash bumps my shoulder with his as we exit the locker room to meet my family.

“You good?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m fine,” I repeat for what feels like the umpteenth time today.

“Yeah. You look fine. Almost like you didn’t get hit at all,” he muses, but it’s the nonchalance in his tone making my heart rate spike.

I bump him back, eager for my parents to see I’m fine. “You know Billy, she works miracles.”

Asher grabs my arm and pulls me off to the side of the hallway, waiting until some of our teammates pass. “What are you on?” Asher asks, his voice low. I feel all of the blood drain from my face, but it doesn’t stop me from trying to recover with a half-ass smile.

“C’mon, Ash. Is this supposed to be a joke?”

He doesn’t smile back at me. “JJ, what the fuck are you on? You’ve been popping pills for months, and I don’t exactly believe you’re suffering from chronic headaches all of a sudden like you’ve been claiming.

I saw your leg twist earlier when you went down.

You should at the very least have a limp right now, but you’re somehow perfectly fine . ”

“I took Tylenol,” I say, lying through my fucking teeth.

Asher scratches the back of his neck, shaking his head.

“For fuck’s sake, don’t lie to me. I saw you take something in the locker room, and I talked to Charlie.

She told me how messed up you were at that party because it scared the shit out of her, and she wanted to know if it had happened before.

What are you taking?” The words hang in the air like a guillotine, ready to hand me my death sentence.

“Don’t make me go to Coach,” he whispers.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I will if you don’t tell me the truth.”