Vegas Aces: The Wide Receiver Complete Series

CHAPTER 22 TRISTAN

I should have been more careful. Maybe I was showboating a bit without realizing it. I was making sure I’d come in first in those sprint ladders when I didn’t even need to be running them, certainly not without properly warming up.

I lie down on the bench in the garage and pull my compression shorts up so she can take a look at the injury.

Her fingers are ice cold as she runs them along my hamstring, yet there’s still a fiery heat radiating from her touch. “It’s starting to bruise, so like you said, I’d guess a grade two tear. RICE it for the next few days, and on the third or fourth day, if you’re feeling up to it, you can start a regimen of stretches. I’m sure you already have them but I’m happy to make you a handout. Do you want to see a doctor just to get a second opinion?”

I shake my head as I sit up, pulling my shorts back into place. Fuck, it hurts just to sit, but seeing her gorgeous face as she looks down at me with concern helps a bit. “I’ll call the Aces trainer just to notify him, but he’ll tell me the same thing. RICE, wait a few days, stretch.”

“I know the rest part of RICE is going to drive you nuts, but I’m sure I can find ways to entertain you,” she says. She knows I’m not one to sit still…like ever.

Still, I raise a brow at her innuendo. “Ways to entertain me?”

Her cheeks redden. “I meant we can watch movies together. Maybe cards or board games. And definitely festival planning. You can do that sitting and resting.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Why, what were you thinking?”

I don’t hide my disappointment. “Like you don’t know,” I mutter.

She sets her hands on her hips. “You know, you keep making all these little comments, and I think I know what you mean but you haven’t exactly spelled it out, and I still have things I need to tell you before we even think of going down that road, but I haven’t—”

I start to stand while she rambles, and to be honest I tune her out as I wince with the pain shooting through my thigh. I get close to her…too close, causing her to cut off her sentence in the middle, and then my fingers move toward her neck like they always did when I was about to kiss her.

“I haven’t—” she repeats. Her eyes flick nervously up to mine. She’s still too far. I want her body pressed to mine, and there’s still a gap too wide separating us. Despite that, we’re inches away from the kiss I’ve been craving since the moment I saw her standing in her bedroom the day we both arrived back in Fallon Ridge—plus seven long years.

“Shh,” I say quietly. I close my eyes and slowly shake my head. “It’s okay, Tessa. We don’t need to define this. We don’t need to reveal everything that we’ve missed in each other’s lives right this second. You have a past, and I do, too. We can take it slow, or we can take it fast. I don’t care. All I know is that every second I spend with you makes me want you a little more.”

I drop my lips to hers for the softest brush of a kiss. “I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I’m falling for the woman you are now.” I press my lips more fully against hers as my fingers firm around her neck, and she gives in for a second.

I’m about to pull her into my arms when her senses seem to come back around.

She sets both hands on my chest as she pushes herself apart from me. “I…I can’t. You’re married.”

She runs out of the garage and presumably back to her place, and I can’t help but think this is just one more goddamn thing Savannah is ruining in my life.

I will not let her ruin my life.

I can’t. Not when it comes to Tessa.

I call Adrian. “My hamstring popped today when I was running outdoor sprints,” I say as soon as he answers.

“Aren’t you in Iowa?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I’m lying on my stomach on the same bench where Tessa just had her fingertips running along my thigh.

“Isn’t it, like, twelve degrees there?” he asks.

“Thirty-eight this morning. Weather was fine for sprints, man,” I protest.

“You didn’t warm up, did you?”

I sigh. “Not like I should have.”

He lets out an annoyed sound. “How bad?”

“Felt like a grade two when it popped, and I had a friend who’s an RN take a look. She confirmed.”

“You know the drill, kid. RICE, wait a few days, stretch. Stretch, stretch, and then fucking stretch some more. Do I need to say it again?” he asks.

“No,” I mutter. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

He laughs. “I’m not sure how else to get it through your stubborn head, Higs. Stretch. Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I will.”

“Take care and let me know what I can do. I’ll mark your chart but you should be fine in a month or two. Certainly before camp. If you want me to look into surgical options, say the word. The off-season is the time to do it. Could be an option for a recurring issue.”

“I don’t want to go that route,” I say. I’ve done the research. Recovery from surgery could take three to four months, which would put me right around the start of camp. I suppose I have the time, but I don’t have the inclination.

Hamstring surgery is technically demanding for surgeons because of the scar tissue and tendons surrounding the injury, but it’s also closely connected to the sciatic nerve. The risks of undergoing a surgery that isn’t necessary just aren’t worth it to me.

“All right. Then RICE it now, stretch later.”

“Got it, captain,” I say.

He laughs. “Get yourself healthy, kid. I’ve been hearing the rumors…”

“Oh?” My curiosity is piqued as I assume he means about my fifth-year option.

“It’s looking like you’ll be with us at least two more years.”

I never doubted that the Aces would exercise my option, but it won’t be official for a couple more months. They’d be stupid not to. I’m the fastest wide receiver on the roster—barring the bum hammy—and I received the most yardage compared to that of my teammates last season as well.

“Thanks, man. I look forward to you taking care of my hamstring for at least the next two years, then.”

He laughs, and we end the call.

I limp slowly inside, grab some Gatorade from the fridge, and head toward the couch, where I carefully lie down.

This is apparently where I’ll be for the next few days until I can stretch, so I flip through Netflix and settle on a show I can binge. Before I can start it, though, I stare up at the ceiling. If I have to rest my body for the next few days, that’s one thing.

I’m not going to let my mind rest.

I’m going to figure out how the hell I can finally get away from Savannah.

I’m fucking done with the blackmail. I’m done letting her run my life for me. I’m done being a doormat she can step all over.

I may be young, and maybe I’ve exercised stupidity in the past, but having Tessa back out of the first kiss I’ve shared with her in years because I’m married is the exact fire I needed.

I will find a way to get out of this marriage.