Page 73 of The Surprise Play (Nolan U Football #3)

WILY

The surgery went as well as could be expected, and four days later, I’m carefully hobbling up the front steps of Football Frat. Sienna has set up a bed for me in the living room, which is a pain in the ass for everyone, but none of them seem to mind.

Everyone’s been so fucking nice and accommodating.

When I woke up from surgery, Satch was the first face I saw, after the nurses, and I clung to her hand like my life depended on it.

For the first couple of days, she didn’t leave my side unless absolutely necessary, doing her homework in a chair by my bed when my parents visited with me, then snuggling against my side as soon as they left.

They’re not loving the idea of her, but they’re quickly warming to her as a person.

It’s impossible not to; she’s sweet and so obviously in love with me.

I think my parents are appreciating the fact that she has my best interests at heart while also being completely compassionate about how unsettling this injury has been for all of us.

Each time they popped in, their reaction to Satch was a little less frosty, so there’s hope.

My teammates have come to see me a few times, the coaches too. Coach Jones gave me a few hours of his time on Wednesday, talking through my options. It was nice to talk to a neutral party, and I opened up about the training camp and how torn I was over the whole not graduating thing.

He gave me some things to think about, reminding me—just the way Satch had—that there’s more to life than football. It was surprising to hear, coming from a guy who has lived and breathed the game most of his life.

“I think I want to graduate,” I finally told him, just before he had to leave.

He paused after rising from the chair, giving me a proud smile.

“I don’t think you’ll regret that decision.

You’ll get drafted—I have no doubts in my mind about that.

You’re too good. And you might not be Top Ten anymore, but these selectors aren’t stupid.

They know talent, and they’ve been watching you for a while now. ”

Damn, I wished my parents had been there to hear that. Telling them my decision after Coach left was brutal. They didn’t get it. Dad was livid, calling Austin, who he wanted to win me over, and when that didn’t work, he tried to sell me on all the reasons why his way was better than mine.

“Would you stop,” I barked. “I want to get my degree, okay? I’ve spent nearly four years here battling through, and I won’t quit this close to the finish line.

I’m good enough to heal and play professional football.

But I also deserve to graduate, so I’m taking my damn chances on that draft and believing in myself. It’d be nice if you could do the same!”

My parents gaped at me after that, clearly shocked by my outburst, and when Satch arrived after her classes to see me, the poor girl walked into a minefield.

“Uh… is everything okay?” Her eyes darted around the three of us, landing on me with a worried frown.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I glanced at my parents before mumbling, “I’ve decided to graduate and take my chances with the draft.”

Satch’s face instantly bloomed with a smile, which she tried to clamp down but couldn’t.

Dad cleared his throat, glaring at her, and she shrank away from his gaze until I barked, “Stop! Stop looking at her like that.”

“Well, tell her to stop smiling.” He flicked a hand in her direction.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wilson.” She squeezed her index finger, which she only ever did when she was nervous.

I reached for her hand. “I’m just proud of him.

For believing in himself. I don’t think he’ll regret this decision.

And I know… I mean know ”—she tapped her finger against her heart—“that he’s going to play professional football.

He’s too good not to. But then he’ll also have a degree backing him up.

We can’t predict the future or if he might get injured again. ”

Mom gasped, covering her mouth, and Satch scrambled to finish.

“He probably won’t. I’m just saying that… options aren’t a bad thing. ”

Dad huffed, crossing his arms and still looking kind of dark over my decision.

“Come on, you guys,” I murmured. “You know she’s right. Just believe in me. Please. I need you to do that.”

“Of course we believe in you.” Mom turned to me, her eyes getting misty.

“I guess we’ve just had this plan for so long, and we’re struggling to adjust to this spanner in the works.

” Her expression softened as she smiled at me.

“But we will adjust. And we’ll support you.

This is your decision.” Glancing at my father, she gave him a pointed look, and after a painful beat, he finally nodded.

“I just want what’s best for you.” His voice was gruff and rigid.

“This feels right, Dad. Please, I really need you behind me on this.” Reaching out my hand, I waited for my father to take it… and much to my relief, he didn’t make me wait long.

Grasping my fingers, he gave them a reassuring squeeze before calling Austin and updating my agent on the plan.

It’ll take them time to process their disappointment, but the longer we all sit on my choice, the easier it is for them to accept.

I’ll still have my moments. I’m sure we all will. But I’m thinking long-term here, and I won’t be playing football forever. It’s good to have a backup plan, and with Satch’s help, I’m gonna secure a really good one.

If I’m honest, right now… with the amount of pain I’ve been in, the thought of running onto a field is too much.

I just want to sit the fuck down and get better.

Carson and Tyrell are on either side of me, helping me up the front steps and into the living room. Easing onto the couch with a wince, I stare across the space to my bed in the corner and can’t help an unhappy sigh. This is gonna suck.

“Wywee picta.” Zoey runs in, holding up drawings for me.

I take them with the best smile I can give her, although I’m sure it’s not as sunny as it would usually be.

“Careful of his leg, Zo,” Carson warns, steering her away from my busted knee.

She gapes at the bandage before giving me a serious look and running back out of the room again.

I gaze down at the scribbly colors. She’s gone for circles in orange and lines of blue and red.

For Wily is written in neat handwriting at the bottom corner with a heart next to it.

That must be Sienna’s writing. I brush my thumb over it and look at the next picture while Tyrell goes back to my truck to unload the rest of my stuff.

Satch will be here soon.

She really wanted to ride home with me, but I made her go to class. She’s missed so much school already and is getting too far behind now. I don’t want her working until three in the morning to catch up.

I wouldn’t let it go, and she huffed off to her classes this morning.

She’ll forgive me, and I already can’t wait to see her this afternoon.

“Okay, I think that’s everything.” Tyrell dumps my bag on top of my temporary bed, and I give him a closed-mouth smile. He sighs, resting his hands on his hips. “You’ll be back in your own room in no time, man. You gotta believe it. ”

“Yeah, thanks.” I nod. “I’ll work hard, do everything I can to speed up the recovery.”

“I know you will.” He grins, walking out of the room as my sister bustles in with her stuff.

“Am I sleeping in your room or Zander’s old room?”

“Blake,” I whine, tipping my head back. “You should be heading back to Chicago.”

She rolls her eyes. “Are we seriously having this discussion again?”

I glare at her. She’s frustratingly stubborn, and no one can talk her out of sticking around in Nolan to help with my recovery. I didn’t ask her to, but she won’t fucking let up!

Between her, Sienna, and Satch, I’m gonna be fucking henpecked, not to mention the visits my parents will no doubt make. It’s safe to say, I’ll be well looked after. I shouldn’t complain, but I’m pissed off that people are gonna have to sacrifice and rearrange their schedules for me.

“We do it because we love you,” Satch reminded me. That thought helped a little.

Still, looking at my sister, I try one last time. “It’s your freshman year. You should be?—”

“Exactly. My freshman year. Ridiculously easy, and the perfect one to make compromises on. I’ve already told you I’ve contacted each of my professors to explain the situation, and they’re happy for my friends to record every lecture.

It’s like doing online school for a few weeks, and I don’t understand why you’re so against it.

It’s a fucking brilliant plan, shithead! ”

Her cute face scrunches into a scowl, and I can’t help a snicker. “You’re a pain in my ass, butt face. ”

“Yeah, well, I love you too.” Her sneer is adorable, and I grin at her, hoping to break the tension. She huffs, snatching her bag and stomping up the stairs, grumbling about ungrateful brothers.

Shit. Staring down at my bandaged leg, I will my body to heal as fast as it can. The doctor told me it’d be months of recovery before I’d be fit to play again. Whichever team drafts me is taking on a risk, but I’ll work my ass off to prove it’s the best decision they could make.

I won’t get much game time, if any, in the coming season, but I’ll become part of whatever team takes me and make it count.

Although… Satch is making me realize that football doesn’t have to be my only career.

Shit, that speech she gave my parents—hell, everything she’s said to my parents—I can’t stop thinking about it.

She’s so convinced of my capabilities, and maybe I’m starting to believe it too.

I have no idea what else might inspire me other than football, but for the first time in my life, I’m kind of open to exploring it.

“Doter Zoey here!” Zoey runs back into the room with her plastic medical kit, and it’s impossible not to smile at her.