Roughing the Kicker (Austin Troopers)

Chapter Fourteen

A fter a restless night of sleep, preoccupied with too many thoughts of Rye, Cutter was at the facility early. He didn’t need to be. With the guys having Sunday off, he didn’t expect a busy day of treatments or therapy. There was always something to do, though, and being there put him closer to Rye.

Cutter wanted to talk to him, follow up and make sure things were truly okay at home. He didn’t want to intrude too much, though, understanding the need to give Rye the space he needed. He spotted the kicker’s truck parked at the facility when he got there, but instead of seeking Rye out, Cutter went see if Rosie was in.

Nor surprisingly, she was.

Since the door to her office was open, Cutter went in without knocking. “Just the person I’m looking for.”

“You’re here early.” Rosie appeared to have only beat him by a minute or two, since she still wore a light jacket.

Cutter shrugged. “I didn’t sleep well, and I could say the same for you.”

“I’ve always been an early riser.” She took the jacket off and hung it on the rack in her office. “And Margie had class.”

Rosie’s wife had gone back to school to work on her Master’s degree in mental health counseling. “She’s probably close to being done, isn’t she?”

Rosie nodded. “A couple more classes after this one,” she said. “Since I doubt you were looking for me to inquire about my wife’s educational pursuits, what’s up?”

Cutter jammed his hands in his pockets. He probably shouldn’t bring it up, but now he’d piqued Rosie’s curiosity and had little choice but to continue. “The matter we discussed last week,” he began. “That friend of mine...”

“The one you suspect might be in a bad relationship?”

He nodded. “That one, yes. Except it’s not so much a suspicion anymore. I, um, have confirmation on that. And it’s complicated.”

Rosie smiled. “Matters of the heart usually are.”

“Right?” Cutter raked a hand through his hair. “This one totally is, because I’m trying to be a good friend. Only a friend. Because that’s what I promised them I would be, and I’m not going to pressure them, because it’s the last thing they need—”

“Even though you want to?”

Jesus. She was almost as bad as his sister. “Did you learn this in med school? You’re incredible perceptive abilities?”

“Yep.” The doctor grinned. “We cut up cadavers, and while we did, we were instructed on reading minds.”

“Cadavers?” Cutter grimaced. “Thanks for reminding me why I didn’t go to med school.”

“My pleasure.” Rosie laughed. “Kidding aside, I have a gift.” Her tone became gentle. “I’ve also known you a long time.”

“True. Anyway, I wondered if we might talk about this a little more,” Cutter said. “Not now, obviously, since we have work to do. But sometime?”

“Sometime soon, is what you’re saying. I can tell this is eating at you.”

“More than I care to admit.” He was so torn between wanting to be the friend he promised to be and give Rye the space Cutter recognized the kicker needed and wanting to push the issue and confront Rye about why he insisted on staying in a relationship that was no longer fulfilling and had even turned violent. The woman had shoved him. Slapped him. Even made him bleed. Yet Rye couldn’t, wouldn’t, kick her out of his house. Why?

“I might be able to help,” Rosie said. “Or rather, I might know someone who can.”

“The friend you mentioned? The one who might’ve been through something similar to my friend?”

“That one, yes. I’ll have talk to Margie first, but maybe we can get together for dinner later.”

Margie? Was she the friend Rosie referred to? Suddenly, it all made more sense. “I’d appreciate that,” Cutter said. “I’m free tonight, or whenever. Just let me know.”

He thanked his boss for her time and left her office, just as one of the team’s defensive backs wandered in. “What’s the matter, Darius?”

“Tweaked something when I tried to jump up to intercept a pass. Probably a hammy,” Darius said. “Coach said I should have someone check it out.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Cutter dealt with Darius’ hamstring issue—which appeared to be minor—and a few other maladies, and the time passed quickly. It was mid-morning when Rosie approached.

“If tonight is still good, dinner’s a go,” she said. “Six thirty, my house?”

“I’ll be there,” Cutter said. “Anything you need me to bring?”

The doctor shook her head. “Just yourself, and I ask you to please keep this between us.”

~&~

It was an ironic Monday morning for Rye. His relationship with Kristen had taken a dramatic turn for the worse, but at least he didn’t have to worry about it impacting his job. A little nick on the cheek could be easily explained away as a shaving cut. Either that or he could grow a beard. He was considering it and didn’t shave that morning. People could think what they thought. It was at least better than being slammed into a refrigerator door and hurting his back.

He went through a good morning of practice. Rye kicked well. Garrett punted well. The snaps were good, and Rye no longer blamed Patrick for the errant ball placement against Oklahoma. Sure, he wished it could have been better. But he could always be better, too.

He grabbed a tuna salad sandwich from the cafeteria and was about to sit down with a few of his teammates when Cutter walked in. Instead of joining the guys, Rye deliberately sat down at an empty table. As he did, he gestured to Cutter, trying to get his attention. Fortunately, the trainer got the hint and headed his way, even if he wasn’t carrying a tray of food.

“Were you planning on sitting with anyone?” Rye asked, and Cutter laughed.

“Why do I suddenly feel as if I’m back in grade school?” He pulled out a seat and sat down.

“I don’t know. You tell me. Grade school sucked,” Rye said.

“That it did.” Cutter studied him, and Rye wondered what he was thinking. Was it about yesterday, and the cut on Rye’s cheek? If so, was he focused on the cut, or something else? All of this overthinking was giving him a headache. “I was never one of the most popular kids in school. In fact, I was usually the last one picked for everything.”

“You were?” Rye frowned. “That’s hard to believe. I mean, you’re athletic. You have a great personality.”

“I’m Latino, my family spoke mostly Spanish, and I was small for my age. Not to mention probably a little too effeminate for some people’s taste,” Cutter said. “I bet you were one of the popular kids, though. You probably would’ve picked on me if we were in the same class.”

“I hope I wouldn’t have been that kid.” Would he have been, though? He hadn’t been a bully by any means, and he sometimes got picked on for being scrawny, but Rye recalled he’d sometimes picked on people, too. Usually because he’d been goaded into it by someone else, and he wanted to fit in, but still. It didn’t make it right. It struck Rye that maybe he’d always been too concerned about what other people thought and what his image was. Look where that got him.

“I hope not, either.” Cutter pushed the chair back and stood. “I’m going to go get some food, but if you’re serious about me sitting with you, I’ll be right back.”

“I’m serious,” Rye said. “I’ll save your seat.” His eyes followed Cutter as he walked to the front of the dining room.

He was back in a couple minutes with a hamburger and fries and sat down. “You used to play in Los Angeles, right?”

Rye nodded, impressed that Cutter knew. “Yeah. Why?”

“How was the training facility there? How’d the food compare? And how was the medical staff?”

“Why? Are you thinking of exploring options outside of the Troopers organization?”

The trainer was quick to shake his head. “Not at all. I’m here for as long as the team wants me, which I hope is for a long time,” he said. “Just curious.”

“L.A. was okay. The facilities were a little older, at least at that time,” Rye said. “That’s the nice thing about being a newer franchise. Our facilities here—from the training center to the stadium, all of it—are top notch.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “I wouldn’t say the food is the greatest, though.”

Cutter let out a laugh. “I have to agree with that. I mean, the burgers are decent, but what they try to pass off as a taco?” He grimaced and shook his head. “No.”

“And there’s no bias at all in that statement, right?” Rye teased.

“Not at all,” Cutter insisted. “Or not much, anyway.”

“I enjoyed Los Angeles, but it was my dream to sign here, being a local kid and all.” Hopefully, he would get to end his career in Austin, but there was never any guarantee. Especially if he missed more kicks that cost the team games. At least he redeemed himself in Denver.

“I was so happy to land this job when I finished school,” Cutter said. “My family is very close-knit, and it would have been hard to move away.

“Where did you go to school?” Rye asked.

“Texas State, just down the road in San Marcos.”

Rye nodded. “Good school. Not a bad football program, for a smaller university,” he said. “I’m glad you landed this gig, too. The whole medical staff is great, at least from what I’ve seen. Though I’m lucky not to have had too many injuries. At least not football ones.”

“The back is better, then?”

“Yeah. No more issues.” Other than wounded pride, maybe. “I’ll just avoid refrigerators from now on.” Or better yet, Kristen when she was high.

“I hope things get better at home,” Cutter said.

“Me too. I blame myself sometimes. I mean, I couldn’t wait to sign with Austin and come back home, but I never really considered the impact leaving L.A. would have on Kristen’s career. Maybe I should have.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Rye. None of what’s happening is your fault.”

He nodded. “I keep telling myself that, and I want to believe it, but it’s not easy.” Rye finished his sandwich and stood. “I have to get back to practice, but thanks for sitting with me. I like talking to you.”

Cutter smiled. “I like talking to you, too.”