Page 27 of Just One: Box Set

Chapter One

T he sound of the crowd roared in his ears and the lingering scent of grass and sweat filled his senses.

This was the moment Phillip had trained for his entire life.

At twenty-four, Phillip was one of the top soccer players in the country.

His dream was winning the MLS cup and now he was doing it.

His body moved around the field, the ball bouncing gracefully between his cleats.

Passing the ball to his teammate, Phillip danced around his opponent, clearing himself from the group. He took off down the field, hollering out to his teammate once he was open. His eyes flicked to the scoreboard.

Twenty-two seconds remained on the clock.

“We got this, guys.” Phillip shouted into the huddle. The Seattle coach had called a timeout, trying to buy them time. Time Phillip planned to use to his advantage. “We just need to get them on the outside, then Carver, you pass it over to Marcus. I’ll get myself open. That fucking cup is ours.”

The ref blew the whistle, and they scurried apart, getting into position.

Marcus would take point, getting the ball away from their lead player.

Once he passed it to Carver, their fastest player, he’d get it down field and then pass it back.

By then, Phillip would have gotten himself clear, giving Marcus the perfect path to send him the ball.

Then he’d take the shot he knew he would make.

Shoes beat at the ground as the fight for dominance ensued. Just as predicted, Carver had taken the ball nearly to the goal and passed it off to Marcus. The play confused the other team, setting them up to make the needed shot.

Waving his arm, he signaled to Marcus that he had the opening. Marcus lined the ball up and passed it to him.

Phillip dribbled the ball closer to the net, minding the player moving toward him. Hearing the shout of the fans, Phillip saw an opening and reared back his leg, and…

Phillip felt the impact first.

His body crumpled to the grassy surface as the immense pain ricocheted through his body. His vision wavered as he rolled onto his back. His teammates were screaming something above him.

“Cross. Fuck! Where’s the trainer?” He didn’t understand what was happening. Marcus pressed his hand to his shoulder. “Cross, buddy, stay with me, man.”

Phillip tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness struck him. “Did we do it? Do I get the goal?”

Marcus frowned at him. “Yeah. You got it, buddy.”

“Why can’t I get up?” A tremor of heat pulsed through his leg, and he glanced down. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t move buddy. Juarez took you out when you made the shot. Let the medic look you over, ok?”

Marcus moved back, giving the paramedic and trainer room to assess him. Phillip still didn’t understand what was happening, but as soon as the medic moved his foot, Phillip screamed in agony.

“Fuck.” Marcus ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

As Phillip was loaded onto the stretcher, his eyes flicked around to the players. They were all taking a knee as he was rushed off the field, something they only did when one of their own was hurt. The pain was excruciating, an unavoidable realization that it was him they were all kneeling for.

“How bad is it?” He gritted his teeth, fighting back the bile burning in his throat. “Coach?”

He looked at the man climbing into the ambulance with him. The coach’s face was a mask of anger and sorrow, and Phillip knew whatever happened wasn’t good.

“Cross it's going to be ok.”

But he could tell even through the haze of pain, his coach had just lied.

His body shook uncontrollably, and he barely turned his head before retching the contents of his stomach. A prick and a slight burning singed through his vein.

His eyes grew heavy and as the darkness consumed him, he heard his coach mutter the last thing any soccer player wants to hear.

“I don’t know if he’ll come back from this.”

“Amy.” The sound of her boss's voice tore her from the computer screen she’d been staring at for the last twenty minutes.

Glancing up, “Everything ok Mike?”

He pulled out the chair opposite her and plopped down. “I need you to go to Emory and meet with the head Coach of the Atlanta Force.”

Amy's interest perked up at the mention of the professional soccer team. “The Atlanta Force?”

“I know you’ve had your head buried in books lately, so I’m going to assume you haven’t seen tonight’s news.”

“Um… no.” Amy blushed at his correct assessment. She’d been completely immersed in finishing her doctorate in physiology, and she hadn’t paid much attention to television lately.

“I figured as much. Look, you’re my best physiotherapist and the coach is a friend of mine. A friend I owe a favor to. I know you’ve asked for fewer hours so you can finish your doctorate, but he asked for the best and well…” he gave her a tight smile. “You’re the best.”

Amy bristled in her seat as she closed her laptop. “What’s going on?”

“Last night, the star player for the Atlanta Force took what is likely a career ending hit to his leg. Granted, he scored the winning goal, but it may have very well cost him everything.”

Amy’s heart began beating rapidly against her chest. Her gut tightened at the mention of it being the star player. She didn’t need him to tell her who. Everyone knew who the Force’s golden boy was. Amy knew she would not like what the coach was about to tell her.

“Which player?” She balled her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms.

“Phillip Cross. He’s the?—”

Amy cut him off. “I know him… I mean, I’m aware of his standings. What is it you expect me to do?”

“Go to the hospital and meet with the coach and his surgeon. All I can tell you is he was sideswiped by an opposing player and fractured his tibia and is currently in surgery. The prognosis isn’t great, but the coach wants the best team put together for his recovery.”

Amy gnawed at her lip. She hadn’t expected to see Phillip again so soon.

She’d known they’d run into each other at family functions, seeing as her brother was married to Phillip’s sister.

But it had only been a month since the wedding…

and a month since she made the biggest mistake of her life—turning him down.

“Amy, are you listening to me?” Mike scowled at her sudden lapse in paying attention.

“When do I need to go?”

“I told the coach you’d be there within the hour. They’d like you present when he wakes up—so the medical team can have a plan in place. Can you handle this, Amy? You’re the best therapist around, and he needs the best.”

“Full disclosure?” She cringed as he arched a brow, waiting for her to continue. “Phillip is kind of family. His sister is married to my brother. Will that be a problem?”

“No. If anything, it should make him feel more comfortable with you.”

Amy stiffened, knowing that he was not going to be happy to see her with the circumstances—but beyond that, he was going to be pissed at the way she blew him off in Vegas.

“Right, then. I guess I’ll head over there now.

” She stood and shut her laptop. “I assume you’ll clear my existing calendar?

I can’t be taking on a case of this magnitude.

Keep up with my studies and cater to this high-profile client. ”

“Client? Didn’t you just say he was family?”

Amy shrugged, “I did. But for this to work, I have to keep it professional.”

“Whatever you say. Just make sure you help him, Amy. He’s their best fucking player and his whole life has just imploded on him. Work your magic.”

Amy waved him off as she shoved her laptop into her bag. This was going to be an epic fucking disaster on so many levels. Jerking her phone from her pocket, she pulled up her brother's contact.

“Ames… everything ok?” Archer's brotherly voice came through the line.

“I think I should be asking you that. How’s Harley?”

Archer sighed through the line. “You heard I take it?”

“Yep. In fact, I was just assigned his case. I’ll be at the hospital in about twenty minutes. Is he out of surgery?”

“Not yet. Assigned to his case? That can’t be good.” Archer blew out a frustrated breath. “If they’ve already got a physical therapist assigned to him, what’s that say for his future?”

“Hey… we don’t know anything yet. The coach and my boss Mike are friends and I’m coming as a favor to Mike. If he needs therapy, the coach wanted the best on his team.”

“And you’re the best.” Archer replied. “I’m sorry—everyone’s just stressed. Allison and Damon just got here. Carter and Jackie are here as well.”

“What about Andre?”

“Fuck… that’s the worst part. He was working when the radio call came out.

He met the ambulance that was on standby at the gates.

He said Phillip was completely out of it, and from the way he talked it’s not good.

” Archer paused. “Andre said he’d stop by after his shift ends.

I just don’t know, Ames—they say it’s bad.

But head over and we’ll figure the rest out later. ”

Amy hung up and took a deep breath. Her heart ached for Phillip, knowing he was going to wake up with everything in limbo.

Amy should've asked who the doctor handling his case was, but her mind had been on Phillip. She prayed the doctor handling his case wasn’t someone from her past. She didn’t need that headache too.

Not to mention when Phillip saw her, it would probably raise a bunch of questions she didn’t want to answer.

And when he found out she was going to be the person helping to put him back together again, that could be problematic…

in more ways than she was willing to admit.