Taste of Commitment (Whisky and Risky #2)

16. Knox

Knox

“I heard his bone went clean through his skin.”

“Of course it did. You don’t get a career-ending injury over a little bruise, eejet.”

I dip my head into the circle of boys, right between a set of red-headed twins. “I heard he hates when we’re supposed to be warming up, but we’re standing around gossiping.”

Four sets of wide eyes snap to me. Most with fear, the exception being one who’s letting his excitement control him rather than his brain.

He tucks the ball under his arm, stepping through the circle.

“Hey, Coach! I’m Nolan, Number 8. This is Oscar, inside center.” Oscar dips his head. “And Payton and Brody are second row,” he says, pointing to the red-headed twins. “Is it true that you can squat three hundred kilograms?”

“It’s true that if you don’t start taking a lap of the pitch and warming up, I’ll have you finish this session with burpees.”

“How many?” Nolan smirks.

“A burpee per second you’ve wasted talking. So far, we’re at three minutes so… a hundred and eighty. Sound good?” The other three boys bolt out like track stars. Nolan continues to smile like he’s soaking something in but he drops his ball with a spin and takes off, running after his mates.

Liam

Did you give Coach a hard time?

Dax

His presence alone is difficult enough.

Liam

Coach must be a masochist to have had to ask KB.

Dax

Or desperate

Knox

Like either of you could do better? Out of the 3 of us, which one played professionally again?

Oh right. Me.

Liam

You don’t have to be a professional athlete to teach some kids how to maul. I’ve handed your ass to you more than enough times. BOTH of you.

Dax

Did you hear that? That was everyone who’s ever played with you, laughing.

Liam

Dax

Alright lassies, are we hitting the bar tonight or what?

Liam

I forgot I gave Ava the night off so I have to work, but come anyway.

Dax

Last time I came to “hang out” while you were working, I ended up on barback duties.

Knox

I’ve got my first physical therapy in an hour. I’m calling it an early night.

Liam

You guys suck.

My chest shakes with a laugh, but I’m quickly distracted by a kid violently shoving his gear in his duffle bag.

“Berkley, right?” I call over to him, but he doesn’t look my way. “Ronan,” I try again, and I almost think he can’t hear me, but I catch his eyes rolling. He picks up his phone, continuing to ignore me, and since practice is over, I let him.

“Fuck.” His aggravated breath is not louder than a whisper, but it pulls my attention back to him.

“You good?”

He drops his head back, and just when I start to get annoyed, he shoves his phone into his bag.

“Fine.” I want to pack my own shit and get out of his moody teenage presence, but I stay put, twisting my phone between my fingers.

“Anything I can help with?”

“No.” He shoulders his bag without another look in my direction and stalks off.

“Lovely,” I say to no one.

When I left my doctor’s office yesterday, I drove home with the window down and with my arm out the window—a movement I hadn’t realized I had taken for granted before. I had thought about nothing but getting that cast and sling removed for weeks, and yet when I drove home yesterday, I felt no different. There was no big monumental shift. I’d associated that cast with the reminder of why I couldn’t play anymore. Of everything that was gone. Now the cast was gone and everything else stayed the same.

I’m sitting in the waiting room of my physical therapist’s office when my phone vibrates in my pocket, I pull it out, finding an e-mail from Coach Henderson. I drop my elbows to my knees as I open and read it.

Good news buddy, I’ve talked with the league and our managers and I’m happy to report that we’ve found a spot for you. Knox Browning the new Strength and Conditioning coaching assistant. I know it’s been hard on you, mate, but this is always where you were going to end up, even if it happened a few years before we planned. Call me soon so we can work out the fine details and get a contract over to you. I hope your recovery has been going smoothly and that being home has given you the clarity and ability to focus on your healing. I can’t wait to have you back mate.

-Henderson

I look around the empty waiting room before re-reading that last sentence a third time. As I’m waiting to be called into my first physical therapy session, I realize that at some point during the last few days, my rehabilitation has been the furthest thing from my mind.

“Browning?” a soft voice calls and I drag my head up. A woman in scrubs smiles where she stands with her clipboard. “We’re going to head right down this way.”

I follow her down the short hallway, going over Hendersons’ email in my head. Strength and Conditioning Coach. He says it’s where I would have ended up. like it’s a given, but I’ve never thought any further than the moment I was in. My focus has always been one hundred percent on what's going to make me the best player right now. Lately, my focus has been split between my friends, my family, and now the Sundevils. The one thing taking up most of my attention, though, is the girl in the corner room of the inn.

I smile to myself, thinking about how she looked when she got up on that horse. If you put Taylor in a room with complete strangers, it would take them half a second to notice her beauty and only a handful more to realize how confident she is. I was almost certain there wasn’t anything that she would hesitate over. When she got up on that saddle, she breathed a sigh of relief, and my chest swelled with pride. Pride is one of the most powerful emotions we can have, yet Taylor accomplishes things and feels relief instead.

“Can I have you roll your sleeve up?”

“Hmm?” I look at the doctor, sliding on her gloves.

“Your sleeve?” she asks, pointing to my shoulder.

“Oh, sorry.” I roll up the fabric, showing off my thick scar and for the next twenty minutes, try to put some of my focus back on this recovery.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I exhale a deep breath through gritted teeth while Dr. Amy pulls my arm back like some kind of circ-de-Soleil act.

“Breathe.”

Easy for her to say. She isn’t having her muscles stretched for the first time in weeks .

“Alright, how does that feel?” she asks, setting my arm back down at my side.

“Like shit.” I rub my shoulder, which hurts worse now than it did when I got hit.

She smiles, her fingers massaging and prodding all the way from the clavicle to my scapula. I know my face is pinched, but I can’t help but laugh when I remember that this is the woman Liam has been hitting on. She’s fifty percent legs, fifty percent fiery red hair, and I’m one hundred percent certain she’s going to give him hell.

“Unfortunately, it will feel like that for some time.” She takes her gloves off and tosses them in the trash. “We’ll get a schedule worked out for you, but as always, the more consistent you are, the quicker your recovery will be.”

“Makes sense.” I absently rub at my arm.

“What’s the end goal?”

“Excuse me?”

She’s oblivious to the hollowness of my voice as she continues writing her notes.

“What are you working towards? It’s helpful to have a goal in mind. Are you planning on coaching?”

For the second time in an hour, my mind races with thoughts of Taylor before anything else. When I don’t answer, Dr. Amy looks up from her notepad, her brow raised.

I clear my throat. “Something like that.”