7. Lee

CHAPTER 7

LEE

Lee dragged ass into the locker room. With the way he felt, the hard wooden bench looked like the comfiest chair ever. He must have clocked ten miles in hard sprints, and damn, he'd never caught that many balls before in a single practice. His arms were a mess of red, swollen flesh from the punted ball slapping his forearms.

Coach J seemed happy though, so Lee chalked it up to a win and thanked God when Coach turned him over to the defensive line practice. Coach Mike took one look at him and sent him to the locker room, muttering about Jax working his players too hard.

"Matty!" Yowie bounced into the dressing room. "Whoa. Do not sit down. Head right to medical and get those arms iced. Shit. Why didn't you say something?"

Lee narrowed his eyes and peered at Yowie.

"Oh fuck." Yowie put an arm around Lee's back and steered him toward the med room. "You came from one of those old-timey coaches, huh? The ones who never let you quit? You can't do that here. If you're hurting, you gotta speak up because it's better to catch a problem before it becomes a problem, you get me?"

Lee grunted. "Would've been nice for someone to say that to me sooner." Yes, he was absolutely throwing Yowie under the bus, but at that moment, he couldn't have cared less. His arms fucking throbbed and his legs felt like jelly.

Yowie frowned but didn't reply as he pushed through the swinging door. "Dr. Rosie, I got a live one for you."

"It better not be you, Aiden," she threw back, not bothering to look his way, her gaze focused on her computer. "You were just here."

"Not me."

Her head snapped his way at that; her body followed. The teasing smile faded as she strode across the room from her desk. "Lee, right? What happened?"

"Coach J put him through his paces," Yowie snickered. "Arms and legs, yeah?"

Lee nodded. He held out his arms, his forearms up for her to look at. Dr. Rosie gently took hold of his wrist, pressed on the reddened area, then turned his hand over and pinched the skin.

"A little dehydrated, too. Cutter! ?Rapido!"

Lee had met Caesar Hernandez—Cutter—when he'd first arrived. He liked the guy's calm demeanor and the wide smile he had for everyone. Cutter pinged Lee's gaydar enough that he felt comfortable letting his sexuality slip, explaining that he took PrEP daily and would need a new prescription soon—"How do I go about that?"—though he couched it in professional confidentiality. Lee didn't need to shout it to the rafters, but he also didn't need to keep it in the closet behind locked doors.

The exchange between medical professionals in a mix of English and Spanish had Lee's head spinning. He caught her muttering " stupido," and though he thought she meant the coaches, it could as well have been him, since he didn't know he could've pulled the brakes on Coach J. She stormed off, leaving Lee to Cutter.

The athletic trainer pointed to his working area. "Hop up and get comfortable. I'll get you some fluids and give you a light massage to work the lactic acid out of your legs."

"Sounds good."

Seeing Lee taken care of, Yowie took off, reasoning he should check on Jakes. Cutter came back with a couple of bottles of Gatorade, offering the choices to Lee. He took a Frost, preferring them to the original flavors. Cutter made a note on his tablet.

"Do you keep track of us?"

"Yes, down to and including your preference on Gatorade flavors. Better to give you something you'll drink entirely versus sip when you need to rehydrate."

"Point taken." Lee cracked the lid and tipped the bottle back, sucking down half of it before he stopped to breathe. He chuckled as he watched Cutter untie his cleats. "Sorry. Should have done that already."

"I got it. You keep drinking." Cutter removed Lee's cleats before motioning for him to get his legs up on the table.

As he massaged Lee's calves and thighs, Lee couldn't hold back a soft moan. "Sorry, that just feels really good."

Cutter glanced at him and winked before refocusing on Lee's legs again.

After a few minutes relaxing, Lee remembered Drew's request. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Does the team hire any interns? Physical therapy students in particular."

Cutter wobbled his head. "Interns, yes, but not usually down here. You'd have to ask Dr. Rosie when— I guess you can ask now," he finished when she walked through the door. "Dr. Rosie, Lee has a question for you."

She approached, watching Cutter work and glancing over his documentation before turning her attention to Lee. "What's your question?"

"I have a friend—" he blushed under Dr. Rosie's raised brow. Lee took another sip to give himself a few seconds. "Seriously, a friend who's a physical therapy student. He wants to work with sports teams, but I guess all the local teams are already fully staffed."

"No one has applied here."

"Football wasn't his preference, but…"

"But he's getting desperate." She laughed before staring at him. "It's already late to be applying."

"He's aware."

"I want an application in my email by tonight. Cutter will give you my contact information. No guarantees, you understand."

"Yes, ma'am."

She rolled her eyes, told Cutter he was doing well, then left as another player came in.

"She's demanding, but fair, and a great teacher." Cutter patted Lee's leg as he straightened. "Finish your drink and another one before you leave today. Plenty of fluids tonight. You doing okay with the nutritional plan."

"Yeah, no problem."

"Good. Grab your cleats and hit the showers. Check in with me tomorrow before practice." He handed Lee a business card with both his and Dr. Rosaria Jiminez's phone numbers and email addresses.

"Will do. Thanks."

In the dressing room, Lee hightailed it to his locker, grabbed his phone, and toggled to his messaging app. He took a snapshot of the contact info and hit send with a smile on his face.