Sacked (The Alpha Ballers#2) (11 page)

Quarterbacks were in incredibly short supply, good ones at least, so teams had to do whatever they could in order to keep them safe.

Which made Coach Armstrong’s decision to keep Lance in the game well after the Patriots’ win was assured all the more infuriating and baffling. What was he trying to prove? Did he want to get Lance hurt? How could that possibly help him out?

I didn’t have answers to any of these questions, but I sincerely hoped Coach Armstrong did, because he was about to get asked those very same questions dozens of times by media from all over the country, over and over, for the next week.

About 30 minutes later we got the X-Ray/MRI results back on on Lance’s knee. Thankfully there was no bone damage, but he did have a pretty hefty sprain. We gave him something to take the pain off and help him get a long nap in.

I breathed a sigh of relief. He would need a few weeks of solid recovery, but he could definitely come back this season with the right treatment, and there was no reasonable possibility that this would affect his long term career.
 

However good the news was, I figured Lance was crushed about it. This was going to be his big year, but for at least the next few weeks, he’d be watching the games on television or from the sidelines.

All of a sudden I felt a foreboding presence around me and I turned to find Coach Armstrong looking at me. “Well,” he started, “how’s Lance looking?”

“Oh, uh, Coach Armstrong, I didn’t see you there.” I composed myself. “Lance has a severe knee sprain. He’ll be out 5-7 weeks at the least, but he can play again this season with the right treatment and rest.”

Coach Armstrong looked at me. “Anything else to report?”

“No, sir, that’s about it.”

“Alright, thanks. I’ve got to go talk to Lee.” He turned and started to walk away.

“Uh, Coach Armstrong?” I could see his back stiffen as he heard me, but he stopped and glanced back.

“Yes, Calloway?”

“Coach Armstrong, I don’t mean to pry, but -“

“Let me save you the trouble, then, Calloway. Don’t.” Coach Armstrong faced forward and walked down the hallway without looking back.

I exhaled sharply, not realizing I’d been holding my breath a little. Something about that man just scared me. The players, almost to a man, loved him like a father, but so far I just couldn’t see the appeal.

I leaned up against the wall, looking around to make sure no one else was paying attention, and tried to figure out what to do next.
 

I had no idea what this would mean for Lance’s career. I was thrilled that he was going to be OK, but still, as he’d mentioned he was on a short leash with the Patriots as it was.

Oliver Lee was going to take over now at least until Lance was healthy enough to play. I was really worried that Lance would take it badly.

I hated that he had kept me so far away from him, despite us working together so closely every day. I really wanted to be able to be there for him, but I couldn’t, not with how he kept me at arm’s length all the time.

I sighed, letting it all out, finally admitting to myself that even though Lance Parker drove me nuts 95% of the time, I still really liked him, wanted him to succeed, and I wanted to be with him.

I couldn’t reconcile all that stuff together right now, but I had to hope that some time soon in the future I would be able to.

It was all I had to go on for now.

But Lance, Lance wouldn’t take this injury very well. The thing that mattered to him most on Earth was the Patriots and helping his brothers win, and he couldn’t do that from the sidelines.

Lance and I were in for a rough few weeks.

CHAPTER 07 - LANCE

When I woke up, I stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. I looked around without turning my head at first, and it became quickly clear that I was in the medical wing.

There were IVs in my arm and monitors beeping away softly but consistently. That was a good sign, I wasn’t actually in the middle of dying. Score one for old Lance.

Memories of the game came flooding back. Week 3, the Pittsburgh Steelers. Late in the 4
^th
quarter, big hit from my right side. The crunch coming from my right knee. I gritted my teeth as I remembered the wrenching pain as my knee bent in the wrong direction.

I sat up in the bed and looked down at it, covered in bandages, swelled up. Shit. That was a bad hit.

I didn’t know how long I’d be off the field, but someone would. I saw a nurse’s call button and pressed it over and over.

How could I have let this happen to me? I should have seen the rusher, I should have gone down faster, hit the dirt before he could get to me. Sure, some people would call me out in the media for getting down too fast, but if it saved me from an injury, saved me from missing time, why not?

The worst part was that we were already pretty much guaranteed to win the game, barring some miracle on the Steelers’ part. There really wasn’t any reason for me to have been in there.

Charlotte came in the room. Relief flooded over me as I saw her beautiful face and questioning look. “You’re awake!” She gushed. “How do you feel?”

“Not bad, all things considering.”

“Considering the nearly three hundred pound man determined to separate you from your legs?”

I chuckled. “You have a way with words; you paint such pretty pictures with them. Anyone ever tell you that before? Yeah, the 300 pound guy.”

“Why thank you.”

“Tell it to me straight, doc. How long am I going to be off the field?”

“There’s good news, and then there’s bad news.”

I grimaced. “What’s the good news?”

“It’s not career-ending.”

“Well, that’s a relief. And the bad news?”

“You’re gonna be out for a few weeks at least.”

Shit. A few weeks? That was an eternity in a football season. We only had 16 games before the playoffs, and every single one of them counted. Each one of them was a week of preparation and practice that I’d miss, a week of connection with my brothers, one more week for Oliver Lee to get used to working with them.

“Look, Lance, I can tell you’re bummed-“

I cut her off. “You don’t know the half of it.” I turned my head to the opposite side. “I’d like to be alone, please.”

“Lance, don’t do this-“

“I said, I’d like to be alone, Charlotte. Thank you for all your help.” I didn’t want it to sound so acidic and biting, but as soon as the words came out I knew that I had gone overboard. Too late now, couldn’t take them back.

“You’re going to have to talk to me at some point, Lance Parker.”

Ouch. Charlotte rarely used my full name like that. I think on some level she was still a little mad that I’d given her just my last name at the club that night, what felt like so long ago. “Maybe that’s true, but I would prefer it not to be right now.”

I knew without looking that Charlotte had her hands on her hips, looking at me with consternation. I was getting to know her a little better than I thought.

“Fine. I’ll be outside in the main room if you need me.”

“I’ll be fine in here, thanks.”

She turned and opened the door. “Also, you’ve got visitors, I’m going to start sending them in.”

She didn’t even give me a chance to reply before closing the door after her. If she had, I would have told her that I wasn’t in any mood for visitors.

There was a knock, and I turned my head back around to face the door. Through the window I vaguely saw a woman’s head. I nodded and she opened the door and stepped into the room.

It was Mackenzie Mayfield, the daughter of the owner of the Patriots, Jonathan Mayfield. I had met her before, of course, at various team functions. I knew she was a front office staffer, but I didn’t know much else about her.

“Lance,” Mackenzie began, “I came over as soon as I could. That was a big hit you took.”

“…Hey, Mackenzie. Yeah, big hit.”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Looks like I’ll be out a few weeks.”

“I’m well aware of that, I was wondering if there was anything I could do in the meantime to make sure the recovery process goes well.”

I grinned. “You could re-sign me to a long term deal loaded with guaranteed money. That would help quite a bit.”

She laughed. It was a pretty laugh, and she looked good doing it. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m looking for places to dump excess salary cap.”

“Thanks, please do.”

She stopped laughing. “I mean it, Lance, I just want to make sure that you’re OK, and that you know the entire team is behind your recovery. We want you to take your time and get back to health, but…” she came closer, leveling with me, “it would be a great honor to my mother’s memory if we could win a championship this year.” She stood back up. “And honestly? I think you’re the best man for the job of securing one for us.”

Mackenzie’s mother, who had been a friend and near-mother to almost everyone on the team, had passed away during the offseason after a long bout with cancer. John Mayfield had dedicated this season to his late wife, and we had all agreed to play in her memory.

John Mayfield hadn’t been very public around the team lately. “I will keep that in mind. How is your father taking things, Mackenzie?”

Her eyes clouded and she shook her head. “Not well. My parents were together for almost 30 years. Losing someone like that takes a toll on a man.”

“And you? How are you holding up?”

“Better on some days than others, really. Right now I have more important things to take care of. After the season’s over I’ll take the time to properly let it out.”

That was Mackenzie Mayfield. Around the facility she was known as a wizard with the business side of things, but kind of a robot to deal with on a personal level.

“Well, I’ll do as much as I can to get back on the field as soon as possible and help out.”

Mackenzie smiled. “You do that, Lance. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”

“I’ll do that, thanks.”

She turned toward the door, before turning back. “Keep this between us, Lance, but I plan to take over the team from my father soon. I would very much like you to be our starting quarterback for many years to come.” My ears pricked up. “If you give me a good enough season this year,” we both knew what she meant, “I should be able to convince the front office that’s in our mutual best interest. Do we have an understanding?”

So that was it, then? Championship or bust this year. Well, there was nowhere to go but up from here. “Yes, Mackenzie, we do.”

“I’m glad we could see eye to eye. I’ll check in on your progress next week.”

“Thanks.” But Mackenzie Mayfield was already gone.

That was more or less an ultimatum. Mackenzie was going to be in charge of the team and if I could find a way to get back on the field and get us a championship, I could write my own ticket in New England.

I had to focus on that and nothing else, whatever it took.

There was another knock on the door, and I could tell through the glass it was Drake. Before I could do anything Drake had opened the door and come in, with Lily right beside him.

Both were in street clothes, and they looked really good together. The twinge of jealousy that echoed through me was immediately replaced by happiness - I was thrilled that my boy Drake was so happy with Lily.

“Hey there, Lance.”

“Drake, man, how’s it going. We won, yeah?”

“Yeah, man, we won.” The smile fell away. “Listen, man, how are you doing?”

“I’m doing alright, doing alright. You know how it is, you’re playing pro football and a guy twice your weight sits on your knee. Happens all the time, could have happened to anyone…” It even hurt to make jokes about it.

“I’m sure I don’t know how that feels, and from the way you describe it I am in no hurry to find out.”

“It’s not so bad. Sawbones out there says I should be back in a few weeks. You better hold down the fort while I’m stuck in here, yeah?”

“I’ll do that, man, I’ll do that. You gotta get better soon, I dunno how long I can make Oliver look good out there.”

“I know, it’s gonna be tough. Just don’t make him look too good, you hear?”

Drake laughed. “Whatever it takes to get the W, you know that, Lance. We’re Patriots.”

“Yeah. I know how it goes.”

“How are you doing, Lance?” Lily piped up, coming closer and laying her hands on my arm. “Are you in lots of pain?”

“Pain? Nah, I’m good. Me strong like bull.” I puffed up.

Lily frowned and looked at Drake and I. “So that’s where he gets it.”

We both laughed.

Drake got quieter. “Listen, we heard you yelling at Charlotte just now.”

“Oh.” Ouch. Embarrassed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, man, these walls aren’t that thick.”

I looked down, ashamed of myself. “Yeah, that wasn’t my finest moment.”

“I’m sure she’ll be OK, but you gotta go a little easier on her, alright? This is her first real job and the one guy she’s in charge of keeping healthy just took a big injury. Think about it from her perspective.”

Drake had a really good point. “You’re right, I didn’t think about that.”

“She’s been worried sick about you these last few hours, Lance,” Lily added. “Hasn’t left this area once.”

“I’ll apologize and try to be better about that.”

“Good, I hope you two patch things up. She’s a real keeper, you know?”

“What?” Both Drake and I stared at Lily.

“I’m just saying,” Lily said, smiling to herself, “watch out or Charlotte Calloway’s gonna steal Lance Parker’s locked-away heart.”

Drake and I groaned at the same time. “Please, Lily, please promise me you won’t try to play matchmaker around here,” Drake said, through clenched teeth. “This isn’t a fucking romance novel.”

Lily looked at Drake. “Oh yeah? And tell me what happened to us during the preseason wouldn’t make a great romance novel? I bet if someone wrote down our story it might make the Amazon Top 100!” Lily dug into her bag and pulled out her kindle, waving it at us. “It would be a bestseller! I’ve even thought of the perfect title. I’d call it ‘Tackled.’”

“Please, please, not this again.” Drake was smiling ear to ear, though, and I knew that he would tell the story of he and Lily falling in love to anyone who would listen. With optional sound effects.