Roughing the Kicker (Austin Troopers)

Chapter Eight

“ H ow was dinner with the fam?” Rosie asked Cutter the next day when he arrived at the training facility?”

“It was fine,” Cutter said. “Good food. My abuela was radiant at eighty-five, and she basked in being the star of the show.” While her health was still good for her age, he always wondered how many more birthdays he would have with her. “Leticia brought her new boyfriend along, and that was met with much approval.”

While he talked, he worked to prepare the training tables. Hopefully there wouldn’t be a slate of injuries during the team’s practice, but they had to be ready in case there was.

“And did that take some pressure of you?” His boss asked. “You know, about not bringing a date of your own?”

“A little. Maybe. They still asked questions. They always ask questions.” Cutter sighed. “It’s not easy. My sister keeps insisting it’s time to tell them the truth.”

“Do you think she’s wrong?” Rosie wanted to know. “Because, let me tell you, there’s something very liberating in finally being able to be true to yourself, and express all aspects of your identity, without holding anything back.”

“I’m sure there is,” Cutter agreed. “It’s not like I don’t want that.” On the contrary, he wanted more than anything to be able to show up to family functions with a handsome man he could introduce to everyone as his boyfriend. “My family is complicated.”

Now Rosie laughed. “Families usually are. Complicated and messy,” she said. “Mine included.”

“So, how did you do it? Just show up one day with Margie and introduce her as your girlfriend?”

“Not quite like that,” the doctor said. “It was different for me, though. Margie and I had been friends for a long time. We’d both been in relationships with men, and my father had passed away. So, it was only my mom I had to worry about, and she took it in stride.” She paused. “Your family might, too.”

“Sure, they might,” Cutter agreed, but he didn’t believe it. “Or Papa might have a heart attack. His health is already not great. I don’t want his death on my conscience.”

“Obviously.” Rosie gave him a pat on his arm. “If you’re not ready, you’re not ready,” she said. “Take all the time you need. I’m simply offering that coming out to your family doesn’t have to be a negative experience. Sometimes it can be a very good one.”

Cutter managed a wry smile. “Too bad I don’t have a crystal ball to show me how mine might turn out.”

“No. None of us do,” Rosie said. “Sometimes we simply have to take chances.” She let out a chuckle. “And that, my friend, is the end of my pearls of wisdom for the day.”

“I missed pearls of wisdom?” Neal walked into the training room. “Aw, shucks.”

“See, if you get here earlier, there are many more benefits,” Rosie teased. “All right, gentlemen. I’m retreating to my corners. If you need me for actual medical type stuff, you know where to find me.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “Yes, boss.” He turned to Cutter. “Anything else I missed besides Rosie’s pearls of wisdom?”

“Nope.” Cutter shook his head. “Nothing.” He liked Neal, he was even beginning to consider the newest member of the medical team a friend. That didn’t mean he was ready to share all the details of his life with Neal, though.

Fortunately, he was spared that because Rye chose that moment to walk into the training room. “You guys open for business yet?”

Cutter met his gaze. Not surprisingly, the kicker looked deliciously handsome, wearing sweatpants and a white T-shirt with the team logo, and his blond hair hanging over his forehead. Down boy , Cutter cautioned himself. “We’re always open if any of the players are around.”

Usually Tuesday was often a day off from practice, with the real game preparation beginning on Wednesday, but with the Thursday game the schedule was compressed. There would be a lot of players at the facility, either working out, watching film, or seeking treatment for the myriad of aches and pains they might be suffering from.

“How’s your back feeling today?” Cutter asked Rye.

“Better, but still a little sore,” the kicker said.

“Do you want me to try to work my magic on it again?”

“I don’t know.” Rye glanced at the floor, then looked up and turned in Neal’s direction. “Maybe you can treat it today?”

Ouch!

“Um, I suppose,” Neal said, with an awkward glance in Cutter’s direction. “If it’s okay with you? I don’t want to take your patient away from you.”

“No, he’s not my patient.” Especially if he’s not interested in my services . “He’s all yours, Neal. Good luck, Rye.”

Cutter directed his attention to the door, as one of the other players walked in. “Hey, Javon. How’s the ankle? Want me to wrap it for you?”

~&~

Talk about juvenile! Rye watched as Cutter turned his attention to the wide receiver’s ankle, chastising himself for his actions. What was he trying to prove, anyway? And better yet, to whom?

“Rye? Are you ready?” Neal asked, interrupting his thoughts. “If you want to get up on the table and lay on your stomach, I can take a look at your back.”

“Sounds good.” Hopefully it would come without the a-little-too-uncomfortable personal questions, as well as the physical reaction. Rye could especially do without that. And if he was being honest with himself, it was the physical reaction that most concerned him.

He needed to prove to himself that his reaction to Cutter’s touch was merely a fluke. An aberration. The same as it was with Max back in college years. Nothing more than a crazy fluke.

Rye pulled his shirt off and assumed his position on the table. “I’m sure you’ve heard the story. It was that hit in the fourth quarter on Sunday,” he explained.

“Sure, I remember. You were trying to save the touchdown on the return,” Neal said. “It was tough the way the Copperheads’ dude laid you out.”

There. That was more like it. No prying, awkward questions about where the bruise came from. Why couldn’t everyone accept the lie? Why did they have to make it difficult.

“It was, but I’m already feeling better today,” Rye said. “I know I’ll be fine for the game. I’m mainly here in an abundance of caution. You know, a little muscle massage. Work the kinks out. That’s all.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Neal placed his hands on Rye’s lower back, the same as Cutter had the day before, and gently massaged the soft tissue. “How’s that.”

“Good.” It was the same technique. The same gentle, yet relieving pressure. It didn’t hurt—good news—but it didn’t feel great, either. In other words, Neal’s touch didn’t feel like magic on his back the way Cutter’s had. And his body didn’t react the same way.

Not at all. No excitement. No arousal. No embarrassing erection. Okay, that last part was probably a good thing, and Rye couldn’t help but be a little relieved. Getting turned on by Cutter’s touch had been nothing more than a fluke. He had nothing to be concerned about. He wasn’t into guys.

“No increase in pain?” Neal asked.

“No,” Rye said. “I think it’s fine. We’re good.”

“Nothing else I can do for you?”

“I don’t think so.” Rye turned and sat up, this time without the embarrassing need to hold his hands over his crotch to hide his erection. He’d made sure to wear sweatpants today—and boxer briefs underneath—just in case his body let him down again. But no. Nothing to worry about it.

“Okay, good. If there is something, just let me know,” Neal said. “Or Cutter, or one of the other guys.”

“I will. Thanks, man.” Rye scooted off the table and pulled his T-shirt back on, noticing that Neal’s gaze didn’t linger on his chest the way Cutter’s had. Yeah. This was so much better. Rye liked Cutter. He was a great trainer. But maybe knowing he was into guys made things a bit awkward, especially after the other day. He’d stick with Neal, if the need arose. He hoped it wouldn’t, though. It was time to move past the stupid lie about the back injury and just play football. “I’m feeling good now, though. I don’t think it’ll be necessary.”

“I hope not,” Neal said. “Good luck in Denver. Bring home the ‘dub.”

~&~

Cutter finished taping Javon’s ankle just as Rye left the training room after having Neal work on his back. “Good luck on Sunday, Javon. I hope the ankle’s okay.” He forced himself to focus on the player he’d finished treating, not the one he wished he had.

“I’m sure it will be. Thanks for the help.”

Javon made his way out of the training room, leaving Cutter and Neal alone, at least for a few minutes. Another one of the players could wander in at any moment seeking treatment.

“How’s Rye’s back?” Cutter asked Neal. “Any better?”

“He says it is,” his colleague answered. “I hope so, because we’re going to need our kicker at his best to beat Denver. I think he’ll be fine, though.”

“That’s good.”

“You don’t mind that I treated him, do you?” Neal asked.

Yes . “No.” Cutter shook his head. “I already told you that.” He busied himself putting the tape away and straightening up the area. “Did you notice anything unusual about the bruising on his back? Or anything else?” Like maybe him becoming noticeably aroused?

The other trainer appeared to think about it for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so. Was there something I should have been looking for?” Now Neal looked concerned, and Cutter regretted bringing it up. He didn’t want his new colleague getting self-conscious that he might have missed something.

“Not necessarily, no,” Cutter was quick to say. “I was a little curious about the pattern of the bruising, and whether it was consistent with a football hit, but I’m probably wrong.” He cracked a smile. “It’s been known to happen on occasion.”

“Not often, I’m sure,” Neal said, his expression completely serious. “I didn’t think anything of it. Rye said the injury was from the game. Why would I question that?”

Why, indeed? Maybe because Neal was one hundred percent objective, rather than wrapped up in his personal feelings— and desires—for the team’s kicker. Rosie had been right. Cutter needed to tread carefully on this.

“You wouldn’t. You shouldn’t,” Cutter said. “That’s my point. Good work, Neal. I’m glad Rye asked for you to treat him. I think it’s for the best, and that should continue. If he comes back in, for this injury or anything else, he’s all yours.”