Chapter 25
Steve
The Tigers are officially halfway through the season, and we have a Friday night game this week, and it’s away again, this time in Toronto. The weather is hot and humid, and their fans are enthusiastic. They should be. Toronto is in line to go to the Grey Cup this season.
The odds makers are putting the Toronto Pirates in the killing-the-Tigers range, and looking around the locker room, I’m not surprised. No one is excited to be here. This is not how professional football should be played. I sigh, scrubbing my hands over my face. This is not a season I’m going to look back on particularly fondly if it’s my last one with the Tigers.
I hear yelling from the other room and poke my head out to make sure it doesn’t become physical.
“You fucking slept with my girlfriend,” Nathan Cotton says, pointing his finger aggressively at the Tigers’ tight end.
“Well, if she isn’t getting it at home…” Mathieu Pe lletier shrugs.
Fantastic . Thing one and thing two are fighting. Just what Eliza needs—another problem. I wade in just as fists are thrown, and the coaching staff, players, and I soon pull the two apart. The swear words are flowing, and people are taking sides.
“You, get out,” Coach Roy yells at Pelletier. “I’m tired of the problems you’re causing. You threw the first punch, and you’re done.”
“I don’t have to take this shit.” Pelletier slams his helmet on the concrete floor and kicks it.
Dean Frankel, the team kicker, is standing three feet away, and the helmet nails him in the shoulder. That helmet probably weighs twenty pounds, and the look on Dean’s face says it all. That hurt. I race over to check him out.
The room around me is in chaos, with most of the team still holding Cotton away from Pelletier.
Then two large police officers materialize and take Pelletier down to the floor to handcuff him.
“He assaulted another player. I want him arrested,” Coach declares.
The litany of expletives explodes from Pelletier as he’s led out of the room in handcuffs.
I’m glad the incident is over, but this is not the way to start a game. Today’s going to be a disaster, no matter how they play.
I examine Dean in one of the treatment rooms as the coaches talk to the team to fire them up, but it’s not helping. I can feel their eyes watching us as I look at his shoulder. When I rotate it, pain contorts his face.
I look over at Todd, one of my assistants, and I can tell he agrees with me. It’s a broken clavicle. We can’t be a hundred-percent certain without an X-ray, but given Dean’s limited range of motion and pain, if it isn’t broken, it would surprise me. And there’s nothing that can be done. If the break is severe, we’ll have to do surgery, but in the meantime, it’s going to hurt a lot.
“Just shoot me up with morphine and let me play, Doc,” Dean begs.
The coach’s eyes plead with me too.
I sigh, shaking my head. “I need permission from Eliza Rourke before I agree to let you back on the field.” I put ice on the injury.
Coach’s mouth turns from a straight line to a frown as I text Eliza.
Me: Mishap in the locker room. Come ASAP.
Eliza: I’m on my way.
As the team files out for the pregame warmup on the field, Coach catches my eye and tips his head toward the office.
“I’ll be right back,” I assure Dean.
When I walk in, Coach motions for me to shut the door. “We didn’t bring another kicker,” he says.
I nod. “I understand, but without an X-ray, I don’t know the extent of the break. I just know it’s broken.”
“He needs to play. You’ll need to morphine him up and get him on the field.”
That’s against the rules. I know a lot of clubs play that way, but there are fines if the league finds out. “Not without Eliza’s permission. I’m also concerned that if he plays, it will have legal ramifications for him and his assault case against Mathieu Pelletier.”
Coach rolls his eyes. “Dammit! Work with me, or I’ll find someone else who will.”
I slowly shake my head. “I understand you’re mad, but the only people who can hire and fire me are Tom and Eliza Rourke.”
“And since you’re fucking Eliza Rourke, you think you’re in a good place to threaten me?”
I step back. “Watch what you say. ”
Eliza chooses that moment to walk in. “What happened?”
Coach gives her a rundown of the altercation between the players. He’s a little light on details of the accident part of the situation, so I step in.
“Pelletier booted his helmet, and Dean Frankel was standing less than three feet away. He took the brunt of the force in his right shoulder.”
Eliza’s face morphs to horror as she looks back and forth between Coach and me.
“My assistant and I have examined him. It’s broken,” I tell her. “Without an X-ray, I don’t know the extent of the break and whether it requires surgery. He has offered to medicate with morphine and play today.”
“Absolutely not,” Eliza says. “After the scandal in the NFL a few years ago, we forbid pain masking. If he can’t play with Advil, he can’t play.”
Coach glares at me and then at Eliza. “We don’t have a kicker.”
I snap my fingers. “Jerome Standing is one of our trainers, and he was a kicker at university. We can put him on a one-game contract.”
Eliza looks at me, her eyes sparkling. “That’s exactly what we’ll do.”
Coach has steam pouring out of his ears. “Your father is going to hear about this.”
“I hope he does, because if you put Dean in, he’ll fire you. I will tell the league, and we’ll be fined because you ignored league rules. And the penalty for that is twenty-five thousand dollars. I have no problem deducting that from your paycheck if you try to put him in.”
Coach stands up and walks out the back door, away from the field.
Eliza turns to me. “Did he just leave?”
“I think he did.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t believe what a cluster this is. Get Jerome into a uniform and let Coach Majors know he’s head coach today.”
“Will do. I’ll work with Dean to get him X-rayed and drugged up before the pain really starts to hit him hard.”
Eliza nods. “Thank you for calling me down.”
“It wasn’t pretty.”
By now, the team has warmed up, and they’re filtering back into the locker room. Eliza smiles as she walks out, and I pull Coach Majors aside. “Coach Roy has stepped out. I’m not sure if or when he’s going to return, so it’s all you.”
Coach’s eyes grow wide. “Okay. I can do this.”
“Jerome Standing, the trainer, was a kicker at university. He’s going to stand in for Dean today.”
Coach Majors nods. “Thanks.”
We get Dean to the hospital and into X-ray. Thankfully, his clavicle doesn’t look like it needs surgery, but it’s a pretty severe break. It’s going to be a long and painful recovery, and yet another needless injury this team has caused itself.
By the time I return to the stadium, it’s forty-two to zero, and it’s official: the Toronto Raptors are killing us. I head up to the visiting team’s box to see what the mood is like there.
The attendant opens the door for me, and it’s instantly loud and rowdy. No one seems to be paying attention to the game. I spot Eliza, and she’s off to the side, talking animatedly to a guy about our age who is buffed out. He’s pulled her away from the crowd and has angled his body at her. He’s looking at her like she’s an ice cream cone on a hot day and he wants to lick her all up.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up straight. Who is this guy, and what is he trying to do?
I step up to Eliza and put my hand at the small of her back. “Hey.”
She smiles up at me, and the guy looks me up and down.
“Does Dean need surgery?” Eliza asks.
“Depends on how it heals, but for now, it’s okay. It’s immobilized, and he’s flying high as a kite.” I look around the room. “Did the press pick up on what happened?”
“No. I gave Roy some cover by saying he went with Dean to the hospital. But I’m pretty upset.” She turns toward this guy. “Oh, Vince, please meet my boyfriend, Steve McCormick.”
I can tell he’s a bit disappointed as he extends his hand. “Vince Harding. Nice to meet you. You work for the team?”
“I’m the chief medical officer.” I force a smile, getting my jealousy in check. “How do you know Eliza?”
“I’m an assistant coach for the San Diego Pelicans. We used to work together.”
“What brings you up to Toronto?”
“Eliza invited me. We’re still in preseason.”
I nod, schooling my features. Can that be true? “Yes. I’m aware. Well, we’re glad you’re here.”
“Toronto just scored again,” Eliza announces.
Vince shakes his head. “It’s really weird. The game is the same but different.”
I nod. “The obvious differences are the longer field and twelve men on the field, but it’s more than that. We could get a point here.”
The Tigers kick the ball but can’t keep it the end zone. They tackle the Raptor on the one-yard line.
“They can get a single point?” Vince asks.
Eliza smiles. “They can if the Raptors can’t move the ball out of the end zone.”
“Most of the differences are subtle,” I point out, returning my attention to Vince.
“There isn’t a big difference in the caliber of the players between the two leagues,” Eliza says. “The difference lies in the salaries, size, and scope of the game—and the hype. The Grey Cup is almost always a classic. It’s generally a high-scoring, close game and very exciting. The Super Bowl over the years has more often than not been one sided. People watch it for the commercials.” She shrugs.
I stand closer to Eliza. “Professional football north or south of the border is great entertainment with incredible athletes, so let’s not compare. Both leagues provide a great product for fans, and Canadians love the NFL too.”
Eliza smiles at Vince. “We’re very passionate about our game, and I hope to work with companies to garner sponsorships that will up our profile.”
“If anyone can do it, you can.” Vince says, touching her arm.
I fight the urge to deck the guy. But I know my fists aren’t what’s needed here. I can do better than what happened in the locker room.
We turn toward the flat screen that’s showing the game below. We’re starting the fourth quarter, and the stands are nearly empty. I pull Eliza in close. “I’m sorry.”
She sighs. “What did you expect after what happened before the game started?”
“I know, but the loss still sucks.”
A few minutes later, TSN, the channel covering the game, breaks away to join a baseball game.
Vince looks at Eliza. “Do you want to get out of here?”
“Our flight home leaves at midnight,” she says. “It’s a redeye so the guys can take Saturday and Sunday off.”
“We could hang out until then,” he practically whines.
Eliza looks at me, and I know she’s looking for my permission, but I’m not giving it. She’s the one who’s said Charles is always watching, and at away games in particular.
“I need to get down to the locker room.” I lean in and kiss her, and it grows into a deep, wet kiss quickly. Yes, I’m marking my territory like a big ol’ cat, but I don’t care. What an ass to invite her out with me standing right here.
When Eliza steps back, I have to reach for her arm, so she doesn’t topple over.
Yep. I did that to her, asshole. Hands off. I extend my hand to Vince. “It was great to meet you.”
I wink at Eliza and leave the box. The game isn’t over yet, but I couldn’t stay after that goodbye. I’ll just wait in the locker room until the team arrives.
When the team trickles in, they’re a dejected group. Coach Roy is sitting in the visiting coach’s office.
I give him the update on Dean, and he nods. “Thank you for being level-headed. Jerome was the best player out there this evening.”
I chuckle. “He’s probably thrilled he got put in, even if it was last minute.”
“Pelletier’s agent was here a minute ago,” he says. “I held firm on the contract. That means two of the three bad apples are gone.”
“How did we end up with these guys, anyway?” I ask.
Coach shakes his head. “I have no clue. I would have preferred a new college grad to what we ended up with.”
“I thought you were there when we picked them up?”
“I was at the draft, sure. But these guys were all free agents. I just got an email that they’d been hired while we were in the free-agency period.”
I cross my arms. “Well, maybe we can live with Cotton.”
Coach just shakes his head.
The locker room is nearly silent as the guys start to undress and prepare to shower, all except Cotton, the third problem child, who’s swearing like he caught someone peeing in his corn flakes. He’s blaming everything and everyone except himself for the loss.
Coach Roy steps out and looks around the room. “Sit your asses down.”
All the players take their seats on benches around the room. “Today was a total shit show. Frankly, I was so pissed that I walked out and left you all behind. I’m sorry about that. That was the wrong thing to do. But we’re halfway through our season, and we can still bring this back. It’s going to take work, though, and you need to want to be here.”
My phone beeps as Coach continues with his speech.
Eliza: Is everyone decent? Can I come into the locker room?
Me: Yes. Coach Roy is apologizing for leaving them in a lurch and giving updates on their teammates.
A moment later, Eliza steps in and stands just inside the doorway.
“—I’m sorry I let you down,” Coach continues. “It won’t happen again. We’re going to put this game behind us and be ready for practice on Monday. And I want everyone in the weight room Monday morning long before practice. By the time you walk out at eleven o’clock, I want you to each have run ten kilometers, done one hundred crunches, and one hundred burpees. Be ready to work hard. You want out of your contract? That’s not happening until the end of the season. We’re going to be the team we were designed to be. Now, you have two and a half hours to get yourselves dressed and on the bus to the airport. Don’t be late, or we will leave you behind.”
Eliza smiles at Coach Roy when he’s finished. I step out of their way, so they can meet in the office.
I work on getting my trainers and our things together, and I instruct one of our junior trainers to get Dean and Jerome’s things and to pick up Pelletier’s things and keep them separate. I glance back toward Eliza and Coach Roy, but I can’t really see what’s going on. There aren’t any raised voices I can hear, at least.
When I look up again a few minutes later, Eliza is standing off to the side, waiting for me. She’s blushing, but that’s probably because several of the guys are walking around naked before they get to the shower.
I wave her into a treatment room and suggest she shut the door. There’s a large window in the door, but at least the more modest guys won’t be worried about walking around nude in front of Tom Rourke’s daughter.
“Are you going to meet us at the plane?” I hold my breath, waiting for her answer .
She smiles. “No, I’ll just go with you. Couldn’t you tell I wasn’t interested in Vince?”
I shrug. “He was interested in you.”
“Of course, he was. Because he can’t have me anymore. He dumped me to date a cheerleader, but he wanted to string me along until she dumped him. I didn’t play those games, and I moved to London.”
“So, you didn’t invite him today? How did he know you were here?”
“Good question. The invitation to come to a game is an open one I’ve offered to many people. So he just showed up. All my social media says I’m in a relationship, but that didn’t seem to deter him.”
I stalk closer to her. Something inside me wants more.
“I will admit, my favorite part was when he thought you were a trainer on the team, and you told him you were the team doctor.” Eliza chuckles.
“That was your favorite part?” I shake my head. “I would have thought that kiss was your favorite.”
“The fact that you were so possessive was a bit of a turn on, but we weren’t out to everyone. We are now.”
“Coach mentioned it earlier. I think everyone knows. Who cares?”
She shakes her head. “We’ll talk later. But know that I wouldn’t have gone with him without you.”
My heart rate slows for the first time since that kiss. “Good to know.” I try to play it cool, but my dick is thinking about all the things it wants to do to her.
Soon. Very soon.
We manage to get the team on the bus, and Nathan Pelletier is the only player not on the flight home.