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CHAPTER NINE

BECKHAM

“Your range of movement is limited. Let’s work on some of those wrist flexions and extensions to create more flexibility,” Sally, the team’s physical therapist, says.

I wince as I stretch out my palm and feel the sting go up my forearm and into my shoulder. It doesn’t always bother me, but I’ve been going hard in practice lately.

“You said you did this falling off a bike?” Sally asks with a pinch to her mouth.

She’s right to be confused by my bullshit story because that’s exactly what it is—bullshit.

“Yep.”

In my opinion, it doesn’t matter how I severed a nerve in my palm that nearly caused paralysis when I was only nine. It healed, and even though it hurts from time to time or goes numb on occasion, I can still get out on the field and play ball with my best friend, and I got a scholarship to take the burden off my dad.

So, yeah, a little pain is worth it.

“You say you’re feeling okay, but you wouldn’t be in this room without an order from Coach.” The physical therapist places her hand on my forearm and slowly pushes down my hand, which is hanging over the table, to stretch out my wrist.

I smash my teeth together to keep myself from telling her to fuck right off.

“Did you ever have surgery on your hand after the fall? It looks like you possibly had some tissue grafting, but did they ever do anything with the nerve damage?”

She takes her palm and pushes my hand up now and keeps her other hand on my forearm. Once the sting subsides, the stretch actually feels kind of good.

“No surgery on the nerves, but, yes, I did have some grafting on my hand.”

“From the hip, I assume?”

I nod.

It’s intense, having these conversations. No one in high school ever asked, nor did this come up when I was recruited to the team. But Sally is new to the program and has taken an interest in the teams’ injuries, particularly mine.

“I’m not going to meddle, Beckham, because I’m guessing there is a story here, but just tell me something. Does Coach know the cause of this?” She releases my hand and grabs the bottle of Aspercreme from the table next to us. She gives me a pointed look while squirting some into her palm.

“He knows. But don’t you worry about me, Sal. I’m great with my hands, and I can catch or carry any ball given to me.” I throw in a laugh to lighten the mood.

The very last thing I want to do is explain to Sally where my scars came from. Coach knows the story, and he’s the only one who needs to know.

“Okay, got it. It’s my job to ask though—you understand that, right? And besides, we really need another championship year, so I’m counting on you, Beck.” She squeezes my hand lightly once she’s done spreading the cream from my hand up to my forearm.

“I got you, Sal. We’re taking it all this season.” I stand from my seat and stretch my arms above my head, then turn my torso left and then right.

“From your mouth, Beck. Now, go finish stretching. I need to start on my next victim.” She laughs.

I hear Archie’s loud mouth and then a slap in the hallway before Casey and Archie walk into the PT room.

Archie says, “I heard that. You gotta be gentle with me. My body is a temple, Miss Sally.”

“Get in the tub, Griff. I want you to sit in an ice-bath first before we get started.” She turns and looks at Casey. “Casey, I don’t have you on my schedule today. Did you need something?” she asks while looking at her chart.

“Nope, all good here. Just coming to see if Beck was finished yet. I’m checking to see if he wants to grab some food.” Casey is looking at me while he talks to her.

I mouth, What? and shrug.

“He’s all yours. Beckham, do your stretches at home too. If you need help with the pressure, have your buddy here help you.” She points at Casey with her pen in her hand.

“Motherfucker, this is cold. Excuse me for cussing, Miss Sally, but I feel like my balls just hit my throat,” Archie barks out.

“High and tight?” Casey asks.

“Yep. But it’ll be worth it. Right, Miss Sally?” He tilts his head in her direction, but is looking at us with his ever-present smirk.

Always a good time, this guy.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, making us all laugh.

“Thanks, Sal. I’ll stop by next week if it’s still stiff. Griff, enjoy the plunge.”

I bend and grab my gear bag, then walk toward Casey, who is waiting by the door. I reach out my fist for a bump, and he taps his to mine. We start walking out of the field house. We hear Griff already asking for a towel before we walk out the door.

“Sup, brother? You want to grab some food?” he asks.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I haven’t had anything since breakfast.” I rub my stomach with the hand Sally just worked on.

“I’m starving too.” He slows to a stop and reaches for the same hand. “So, are you ever going to tell me why you have those scars? I knew they were there, but honestly, man, I never thought to ask why. And I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I did hear you tell her that Coach knows. So, I’m wondering why I, your best friend, don’t know. Is there a story there?”

I sigh and look into his eyes. “Case, it happened a long time ago, before I moved to Troy. You know how my mom isn’t in the picture? Let’s just say, she wasn’t a good mom and leave it at that. Besides, it doesn’t really matter anyway. I’m good, man, I promise.”

He nods, but he knows I’m not telling him the whole truth. What happened to me was fucking horrific, but he doesn’t need to know the details.

“What are we eating?”

“I thought we could just run by the dining hall before we head home. It’s on the way to my car. I couldn’t find a spot near the field house earlier today, so I had to park on the other side, near my morning class.”

“Okay, that’s fine. When I left this morning, I didn’t see you, and your car was already gone. How could you have not gotten a spot? I ended up walking to campus since my first class was close to the house, so I’ll ride back with you.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Well, I wasn’t home last night. I went over to Noelle’s, and we fell asleep. I’d forgotten to set my alarm on my phone, and when she woke up for class, I realized how late I was and ran out of there like my ass was on fire.”

I’m not going to get into his business with Noelle. She’s important to him, and no matter what I say, he’s going to do what he wants. I think he’s feeling more for her than she is for him though, and I really don’t want to see him get hurt. So, I just hum in understanding.

As soon as I walk into the dining hall, I see her.

I have no idea how I went an entire year being at a different school from her. It almost seems like a blur. And probably why I stayed hyper-focused on football and school.

She’s standing by the staircase, looking at the bulletin board of events.

I elbow Casey and nod toward her, and we walk in her direction.

Charlie King has the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. She’s got that girl-next-door way about her. She’s sweet, even when she’s trying to be mean. And, man, can she be mean to me. But I want to gain her trust, and I know the first step is to allow her to get used to me being in her world again. I realized that when we were shopping at Target. I’d pushed her buttons that morning, but then we found a common ground. It felt normal again. Then she brought up Britney, and it was like we were right back where we’d started.

I knew she needed space.

Fuck, I need space.

And yet I can’t stay away.

“What up, Char?” Casey grabs her around the neck and pulls her into him.

“Casey, seriously.” She shrugs him off, but there is a playful smile on her face.

I know how happy she is to be near him. Hell, they’re both happy. They are the kind of twins you read about. They finish each other’s sentences. Communicate without words most of the time too.

“You hungry? Beck and I are gonna grab some food.”

“No, I just ate. I was checking the boards to see if there were any potentials for housing. In case a room doesn’t become available in the sorority house this semester.”

What the fuck? She’s not leaving the house.

Casey must see my expression because he asks, “Why would you want to move out? We’re the best roommates you’ll ever have. Come on. Admit it. We’re a good time.”

He grabs her shoulder and pushes her back and forth, making her laugh, and then she pushes his hand away.

“Ideally, I would like to move into the sorority house, and just thinking of moving my stuff multiple times gives me heart palps, but I can’t stay in Beckham’s room for the whole year.”

Casey barks out a laugh. “Char, I think he’s fine with you staying in his room. Indefinitely.”

“Dude, what the fuck?” I glare at him.

She looks at me with a dejection on her face. I try to fix it so I don’t sound like a complete asshole.

Clearing my throat, I say, “It’s really no problem at all. Our schedules coordinate well, so it’s fine, really.” I’m not making this any better, but I can’t come out and tell her she’s not leaving.

Charlie nods at me, then looks at Casey. She brings her hand up and points her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m gonna head out, so I’ll see you guys back at the house.”

“Later.” Casey waves, then starts to walk over to the food line.

I watch her walk away, and just as I start to follow Casey, I see her turn to look at me. Our eyes meet, and I nod my head and smile.

Later that night, as I walk into my bedroom, Charlie comes out of the bathroom—with only a towel wrapped around her body. I want to walk over and grab ahold of the knot keeping it together and yank it off her body. But I don’t.

Instead, I politely look away. “Sorry. Do you want me to come back in a few minutes?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay. I’ll just get my PJs and go back in there to change.” She’s talking fast, like she tends to do when she’s feeling awkward.

While she grabs her clothes, I walk over to my desk, pull out the chair, and drop my backpack onto it. I take out my laptop and plug it in on my desk to charge. After we ate, instead of riding back with Casey, I stopped at the library on my way home. I needed to get in a little study time without interruptions in the house.

Charlie comes out of the bathroom, dressed in her little shorts and T-shirt, which she calls PJs. She’s so fucking gorgeous.

She settles on the cot and picks up a book from the floor next to it.

“What are you reading?” I ask.

Looking up from her book, she blushes a little. “Oh, um, just a book about the Mafia.”

“Mafia? What about the Mafia? Like a biography or something? Is it for class?”

Clearing her throat, she says, “Well, no. It’s a Mafia romance.”

“Hmm.”

I’m sure my mouth is hanging open a little because she then says, “Don’t judge me, Beckham. I’m looking at it as research for my Understanding Romantic Literature class.”

“Why would you need to take a class in that? You’ve been reading those dirty books since we were, like, twelve.”

That gets a laugh out of her.

“You’re right, but I chose the class as an elective, and I’m considering adding literature as a minor to my psychology major. I feel like they go well together.”

I nod. “Makes sense. What do you think you want to do with that?” I ask for two reasons.

The most important is because I just want to know everything about her again. She hasn’t talked to me like this in two years. I’m going to get anything I can from her while she’s willing. And the other reason … when I succeed in getting her back—and I will—I want to make sure I do everything I can to allow us both to follow our dreams together.

“I think I want to teach at a college level. I don’t really want to go into practice, and I don’t really want to do research, so I think that’s what will make the most sense for me. What about you? You still like the engineering track you’re on?”

I shift my head back and forth. “Yeah, I do. You know math was never hard for me, so I get bored sometimes, but I like it overall. The NFL is my dream, but once my pro career is over, I want to have my degree in something other than sports management or broadcasting. Just not sure what exactly I’ll do with it. I’m considering taking some architecture classes to see if I might like that too. But I plan to be in the big show for a long time, so I might never even get the chance to use my degree at all.”

When I meet her eyes, she nods and says, “That’s a good dream, Beckham.”

I look away first, mostly to stop myself from getting up and bringing her to my bed. Eventually, we’ll get there, but I know it’s still going to take some time before she’s ready to let me in all the way.