25. Doctor’s Orders

The first week of my concussion protocol was a special kind of hell. I"d never been good at sitting still, at being idle, and now I was forced to do nothing but rest and recover.

It was driving me insane.

I couldn"t practice, couldn"t work out, couldn"t even watch game footage without the pounding in my head intensifying to an unbearable level. I couldn"t be there for my team.

All I could do was lie on the couch, staring at the ceiling and trying not to let the dark thoughts consume me.

What if this was it? What if I never fully recovered, never played again? Who was I without football?

Icy hot pinpricks curled through my gut. Football was my life, my identity, for as long as I could remember. The idea of losing that, of having to find a new path, a new purpose... it was literally painful. My head was going to explode.

Willa made her way over to the couch, perching on the edge beside me. "Hayes, I know this is hard. But you"re doing everything you"re supposed to do. Resting, recovering?—"

"And going absolutely fucking stir-crazy in the process." I sighed, scrubbing a hand over my face. "Sorry. I"m just... I"m already sick of this, and it"s only been five fucking days. I"m out for weeks, trapped in my own body, in my own head."

She wrapped her arms around me, and I leaned into her warmth. "I just feel so... useless. Like I"m letting everyone down."

She cupped my face, forcing me to meet her gaze. "You could never let anyone down, Hayes. You"re so much more than just a football player. You"re brilliant, kind, compassionate. Football is a part of you, but it"s not all of you."

I swallowed hard, her words hitting me like a linebacker. "I don"t know who I am without it. I"ve never had to think about anything else."

After a long moment, Willa kissed me on the forehead and cupped my cheeks in the palms of her hands, forcing me to look at her. "You listen to me, Hayes. I know you like your plans and your goals and forever exceeding everyone"s expectations. And this wasn"t part of the plan."

Ouch. I barked out a wounded sort of laugh.

"So change the plan." She brushed her lips softly across mine, like a little reward for the hard love she was giving me right now. "I know that makes you uncomfortable, but you"re smart, you"re the hardest working person I know, and you"re also stuck thinking there"s only one way for you to exist in this world. I promise that"s not true."

"I don"t... I can"t—" I swallowed hard. Never once in my whole damn life had I ever said I can"t. But my outlook was so damn dark. Nothing but black and white.

"You keep saying "I", but you don"t have to, nor should you try to, do this alone. I will be here for whatever you need, but I don"t have a whole lot of experience with what you"re going through, and I have to get to the coffee shop."

"You"re saying I should ask for help, huh?"

She stood up and walked toward the front door but blew me a kiss along the way. "I got you, boo."

My Willa, she understood me better than I did myself. Because she didn"t just walk away from me to wallow in my self-fucking-pity like a lot of people would have. She"d already called in backup.

On cue, the doorbell rang, and Willa, already there, answered it. All six of my brothers stood on my front porch, their arms laden with snacks and video games, and Willa gave me a wink and a wave as she headed out to work.

Chris held the door open as the rest of them filed in like the god damned marching band. "Willa called and said we needed to come over and pull your head out of your asshole."

I tried for a quarter of a second to open my mouth to protest, but Declan gave me one of those grumpy looks. "Don"t make me smack you upside the head and give you another concussion. We"re here to fucking cheer you up."

Flynn slapped a bottle of some healthy kombucha or something weird into my hand while he popped open a beer. "What"s up, cracker head? Ready to get your ass whupped at Mario Kart?"

"Alright, little bro," Everett said, plopping down on the couch beside me. "Time for some good old-fashioned distraction therapy."

Isak already had the game queued up, and Gryff, who was the undefeated champion at this game, even let me be Mario. But an impromptu video game session was not going to cheer me up. I guessed it might distract me from the downward fear spiral.

And it worked for a few hours.

But it wasn"t long before my head was pounding and I struggled to hold the controller with my injured arm, my fingers fumbling over the buttons. The frustration welled up inside me like a tidal wave.

"Damn it!" I growled, throwing the controller down as my character died for the tenth time in a row. "This is pointless. I can"t even play a stupid video game."

Declan and Everett exchanged a worried glance, but it was Chris who spoke up, his voice gentle. "Hayes, it"s okay. This isn"t your first injury, kid, and it won"t be your last. We"ve all been there. You"re still healing. No one expects you to be at the top of any game right now."

I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. Sure, we"d all had injuries before, but through the grace of the universe and the new and improved technology of helmets, none of us had ever had a serious concussion. So they hadn"t been here before. I was the only one. "That"s the problem, isn"t it? I"m not at the top of my game. I"m not even in the game. I"m just fucking… useless."

My vision began to blur, and I realized with a start that it wasn"t just from the headache that was now pounding behind my eyes. Tears were welling up, hot and stinging, and I couldn"t even fucking wipe them away.

"Okay, boys, I think it"s time to call it a day." My father"s voice cut through the tense silence, calm but firm. I hadn't even noticed him come in. "Let me have some time with Hayes."

My brothers filed out, each one pausing to give me a quick hug or a pat on the back. When the door clicked shut behind them, I finally let the tears fall, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Dad sat down beside me, his presence solid and comforting. He didn"t say anything at first, just let me cry it out, his hand a steady pressure on my back.

When I finally pulled myself together, he stood up, making his way to the kitchen. "You hungry?"

I shrugged, wincing as the movement pulled at my injured shoulder. "Not really."

He nodded, pulling ingredients out of the fridge. "I"ll make your favorite. Spaghetti and meatballs, just like your mom used to make."

The mention of my mother sent a fresh wave of grief washing over me, but it was tinged with warmth, with love. She"d always known how to make everything better, even on the darkest of days.

As Dad cooked, the familiar scents filling the kitchen, I found myself talking, the words pouring out of me in a rush.

"I was scared, Dad. When I woke up in that hospital, when they told me about the concussion, the shoulder... I thought that was it. I thought I"d lost everything."

He hummed, stirring the sauce with a thoughtful expression. "You know, back in my day, I was known as one of the meanest linemen in the League. I cracked my fair share of heads, maybe even ended a few careers."

I looked up, surprised. Of course Dad talked about his playing days, about the toll the game had taken on his body and mind. But I"d never heard him say anything like this.

"But you know what I realized after I retired?" He turned to face me, his eyes soft. "Football isn"t everything. It"s a big part of who I am, who we are, sure, but it"s not the only thing."

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "I don"t know who I am without it. I don"t... I don"t want to let you down, Dad."

He crossed the room in two strides, pulling me into a fierce hug. "Hayes, listen to me. You could never let me down. You"re my son, and I am so damn proud of the man you"ve become."

I clung to him, my face buried in his chest like I was a little boy again. "But all I"ve ever wanted was to be like you, to make you proud."

Dad pulled back, gently cupping the back of my neck. "Hayes, you are so much more than just a football player. You"re brilliant, kind, compassionate. You could do anything you set your mind to, and I would be just as proud of you."

I said the thing I didn"t want to. "What if setting my mind to it and working hard isn"t enough to get me back in the game?"

He gave a small nod acknowledging the pain I was admitting to. "Then so be it. To be honest, I sort of thought you"d do something else with that big brain of yours. You used to love to build things, and I don"t know if you noticed, but you"re kind of a genius. Grow some funny hair and you could be Albert Einstein."

I blinked, stunned. "But I thought... I thought football was what you wanted for me, for all of us."

He sighed, regret flickering across his face. "When your mom died, I did the best I could to raise you boys on my own. Being on the field with me was the only way I knew I could keep this family together without her. But I never meant for you to think that football was your only option, your only worth."

Damn it. I was going to start crying again.

"You did good, Dad. You gave us all a way to stick together." I didn"t know if any of us had ever told him that. It could not have been easy to raise seven rowdy boys and one princess all by himself.

"You kids turned out all right." He cleared his throat and handed me a plate.

We sat down to eat, the spaghetti and meatballs just as delicious as I remembered, and that storm cloud hovering over me wasn"t quite as dark for the first time since my injury. I was just going back for seconds when Willa came home, with her dad in tow.

"Mr. Rosemount," I said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

He gave me a small smile, his eyes tired but warm, and he shook my dad"s hand. "I came to apologize, Hayes. For the way my family has treated you and Willa. It wasn"t right, and I"m sorry I didn"t step in sooner."

What the shit? I knew something had gone down with her and her brother at Christmas, but I"d been so wrapped up in myself, I hadn"t asked her about it.

Willa"s hand found mine, her fingers intertwining with my own. "I didn"t tell you because I was busy making sure you weren"t dead, but... I didn"t make it to your game on Christmas. I came straight to the hospital from kicking my brother"s ass and having a real blow out with my mom."

Jesus. I"d been a shitty man baby of a boyfriend. I should have known this. "Babe, I"m so sorry. I wish I hadn"t been so whiny this week that you didn"t feel like you could tell me. This is major."

"No, I don"t want you to feel sorry about that. I wasn"t really ready to talk about it yet. But Dad"s been coming to the coffee shop this week to help out, and we had a really good talk today."

"Babe, that"s great."

"I figured if I could call your family to come help you out, I should be able to call mine to help me." She looked up at her dad with a new, different smile. "I"ve never really done that before."

Mr. Rosemount nodded, his expression serious. "I"m sorry to both of you that you had to avoid our family instead of feeling loved and supported by us."

He looked over at my dad. "I thought I was raising a son more like your boys, but I failed Xander somewhere along the way. I"m not sure when that happened, but I realized it when I saw your family together that day at the game and mine didn"t even want to do something fun together."

He clapped me on the shoulder, his grip firm. "You"re a good man, Hayes. Don"t let anyone tell you otherwise. I"m glad Willa found you."

I was incredibly glad too. I really did need to pull my head out of my asshole, so I never let her down again the way I had this week.

The next day, I headed into the practice facility to see the doc and the trainers. I knew they weren"t going to clear me to play and not being able to travel with the team was going to fucking suck.

We went through the whole barrage of tests to see how the recovery was going, and it wasn"t good news.

"I"m ready to move on phase two, Doc. I can do some light activity. I know I can." I was not spending another week staring at the ceiling.

The team's head doc looked around me to the two other trainers who I"d be working with. "Look, Kingman. Every concussion is different, and the recovery plans aren"t some standardized list of do this and you"re better. You"ve still got a ways to go before that. I"ll upgrade you to light stretching and walks. That"s it."

Fuck.

"I can"t get better if I can"t do the work to get better."

"This is the work, kid." He wrote something on his clipboard and shook his head at me. "You guys think I don"t know you push through pain all the time. But there"s a difference between being hurt and being injured. You push too hard, and you"ll end up putting yourself out for the rest of the season, not just a couple of games. The last thing the team or I want is you on the injured reserves list."

Injured reserves. The fucking death knell of any pro player.

How the hell had I gone from the best rookie the League had ever seen to sitting on the fucking sidelines?

"See the trainers to stretch your arm, and then go home and rest. And I mean it when I say light activity. That does not mean working out, no running, absolutely no impact of any kind. Don"t even think about trying to catch a ball, you hear me?"

"But—

Coach walked by Doc"s room, and when I say walked, I mean stomped like an angry rhinoceros. "Kingman. Get your ass in my office, right the fuck now."

Shit. "Coming, Coach."

Doc gave me a told-you-so look more like the kind I got from my siblings when any of us was in serious trouble. Great.

I hustled into Coach"s office and stood in front of his desk while he stared at me like a slug he wanted to pour salt on. He didn"t say anything for an uncomfortably long time. I was not used to being on his bad side. "Kingman. Get your shit together. We are going to the fucking bowl this year, and if we lose that game because you didn"t listen to the doc, I"m going to eat your fucking helmet for lunch—with your head in it. You got me?"

Okay, this was actually the first bit of good news I"d gotten. Not that we were going to the bowl. Unless we really fucked up during the playoffs, we had the best chance of any franchise in the League. Chris was the right guy to take us there. We deserved to be there with our undefeated season so far.

The good news was Coach was counting on me to be playing in that bowl. "I got you, Coach."

I did my stretching with the trainers, which both felt good and hurt like a son of a bitch. Then I headed home. But I stopped by a copy store to print something out first.

When I walked into the house, Willa was waiting for me. She knew how important today"s checkup was. "So, what did they say?"

I shook my head. "I"m out for at least one more game. But they did send me home with this."

I handed her the note I"d printed out and looked anywhere but at her.

"Hayes. This is from Dr. Harry Beaver."

Yep, I did have the sense of humor of a thirteen-year-old. "Uh-huh. That"s the team doc."

"I"m supposed to believe the Mustangs" team doctor wrote you a prescription for," she snickered and then cleared her throat to read the note aloud, "two doses of pussy a day?"

I took her hand and led her toward the stairs up to my bedroom. "If I want to get better, I have to follow my doctor's orders."