The Tight End: A New Adult Sports Romance ~ Casper (The Rookies Book 2)
Table of Contents
Title Page
The Tight End (The Rookies, #2)
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
THE TIGHT END
by Zoë Lane
http://www.zoelaneauthor.com
You’re invited to ROOKIE COMBINE.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. The reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, without the express written consent of the author constitutes a copyright violation.
THE TIGHT END
THE ROOKIES 2
Copyright © 2018 Zoë Lane
Cover Art Designed by Yocla Designs
CHAPTER ONE
CASPER
No eyes were on me.
I rolled my right shoulder, the sting of a tackle from last week’s game still irritating the hell out of me. Would’ve been my fourth touchdown of the game; if I had paid attention to my right, I could’ve avoided it all together.
Can’t afford any injuries right now. Not two weeks into the season.
Landyn and a few others entered the training room looking somewhat annoyed that we had a post-practice meeting. It was part of the job, and I was just grateful I had one.
Two weeks in. Two wins. Landyn was right. We’d made it.
We had it easy our first game, winning by two touchdowns. Landyn had been relentless in his efforts to make sure we never let up; not for a second. After everything he’d gone through from changing his image to his sister being in the hospital for alcohol poisoning and her subsequent rehabilitation, he didn’t want the sports analysts focused on anything other than how well we played as the newest NFL team with the fewest experienced players.
We were all hungry. Still hungry. Every week, something to prove.
I rolled my shoulders again, subconsciously feeling a past pain that was likely just in my head. Only Landyn had been worried about the impact, asking me one too many times since Thursday if I’d iced my shoulder enough and needed any anti-inflammatories.
Upping my daily massage to two couldn’t hurt. Siobhan’s skill at relaxing my muscles was damn near addictive.
I watched the coach enter the room with a guy I’d seen lurking around headquarters. Tall, skinny, with glasses. Man, I hoped this wasn’t another psychologist. The personality and additional psych tests they’d made us take had me questioning my own sanity, let alone my ability to play at the highest level.
Landyn leaned over and whispered, “You got any idea what this is about?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Next time, get Coach Hicks to tell you. You’re the QB.”
Landyn gave me a slanted look and then sighed, slouching back into this chair. “I’ve got to meet Rose tonight, so I can’t hang.”
No big surprise there. He’d been blowing me off for two weeks now. “More fixer stuff?” I asked, giving him the benefit of the doubt.
He was my best friend.
“Nah.” Landyn smiled.
I knew what that meant. He was dating his fixer on the DL, something that would likely get her fired if discovered by management. He had raced out of the locker room after our first game so fast, I’d guessed to get his congratulatory “report.” He had killed it in the press conference, though, so it might’ve been business.
In the massage room.
Where business takes place.
Obviously.
“Last game was a close call. Practices will probably go late all week,” I said.
Landyn groaned. “Should’ve read that last play better. Then I wouldn’t have thrown it to you. You wouldn’t have gotten knocked out.”
“Out of bounds,” I added.
Landyn shrugged. “That’s what I meant.”
Only it sounded different.
Landyn sighed dramatically, which wouldn’t speed up whatever was happening at the front of the room. Coach Hicks was still speaking to the skinny dude, while the defensive coordinator had walked up and joined the conversation. That couldn’t be good.
The rest of the team had gotten restless since practice had ended over an hour ago and we were still stuck in this room, waiting to be released. Most of the guys held conversations with one another while Landyn started another pissing match with his backup quarterback, Kyle. He hated that guy—and so did I, as Landyn’s best friend.
The coach nodded and took a seat near the front while the skinny guy turned on a large flat-screen. He navigated to a video.
Please, no.
Not another game video.
I looked at my new Rolex. Can’t believe I can afford a Rolex. It was a watch I’d only seen rich guys in commercials wear. My father wore a twenty-year-old Timex. Being the number one NFL drafted tight end had its perks. Five million of them.
Nine o’clock. By the time I got home and had my post-workout beer, I’d have to get back up for early practice.
“Now Guys,” the coach began, “I want to first say that we—the coaching staff and management—have been incredibly proud of your performance. Today’s practice was great. We know y’all are tired and ready to get out of here, but I want you to give the security manager your full attention. We’ll get you out of here as soon as possible.”
Security. That usually meant someone screwed up.
“Good evening. Sorry this is so late. I’m Martin, one of the security officials here. The owner would like everyone to take a look at this safety video and keep these things in mind as we continue through the season.”
I put my head back and groaned along with the rest of the team. These safety videos were terrible. Bad acting, always thirty years old. There were plenty of other teams that should be watching this. It seemed like every week somebody was being charged with a felony. Everyone on our team was squeaky clean.
As far as I knew.
And the video was about drunk driving.
I smirked in Landyn’s direction, and he responded with an eye roll. I wasn’t much of a drinker; that was Landyn’s newfound department, although he claimed to have sworn off the stuff, except maybe a glass of wine at dinner. How sophisticated. Good, because the more he drank, the louder and crazier he got. It had the opposite effect on me; I just wanted to sleep.
The image of a crushed car came on scree
n. I shifted nervously in my chair. I’d seen these types of videos hundreds of times throughout high school and college. Barely paid attention, because I’d never driven drunk.
The car crash, though...
Landyn lightly punched me in the arm. “Hey, you okay?”
I stared at him. What did he think? He frowned and turned back to watch the rest of the video. I kept my head down. I might not have crashed a car drunk, but I’d crashed a car. Sober, so I had no excuse.
I touched my right shoulder as though I could feel the pain of the injury from that crash nearly four years ago. What I wanted to do was rip my heart out. But I couldn’t exactly use my bare hands to dig into my chest and tear it out.
So it kept on beating.
Not for me.
For Em.
Coach Hicks said something after the video ended. Guys around me nodded in acknowledgement of whatever that something was. They filed out of the room quietly; maybe the video had touched a nerve.
Landyn spoke to Coach Hicks and the security official and then it was just the two of us.
“Cas...”
“I’m fine,” I said quietly, then stood.
“Look, man, I know that’s not true.”
“It is if I say it is.”
Landyn sighed heavily and put a hand on my injured shoulder. I shrugged him off. “I’m okay, really.”
“I know you’re thinking about—”
“We’re not talking about Em.” I stared him down. “It was just a safety video. I should be able to see videos and pictures of crushed cars and hear statistics about dead people without going back to that night. That’s what normal, healed people do.”
“Dude, that was a terrible accident,” Landyn said. “If you’re still—”
“You don’t think I know that?” I stalked toward the front of the room. “How many times have we had this conversation?”
“And we’ll keep having it until I—”
I about-faced meeting his challenging gaze with my own. “Until you what?”
He stared at me, his eyes searching my face. “Until I believe you’re over it.
I laughed harshly. “Over it? You think it’s something I can just get over? I was driving the car, Landyn! I killed her!”
He shook his head, avoiding my gaze. “No, you didn’t.”
“Then who else was it? Huh? Who else is responsible? Tell me that.”
Landyn stood mute.
Exactly.
My fault.
End of story.
“Look, if you need to talk to someone...”
I held up my hands to stop the words from hitting me in the face. Talk, talk, talk. I’d done a lot of it after the accident. Talked until my tongue was numb and I thought my lips would fall off my face.
After the Rhinos staff gave the psych tests, I was called into the doctor’s office. They wanted to discuss my assessment. Recommended I continue speaking to a counselor.
I’m done talking. “No.”
“It’s that you haven’t...in a long time.”
What? Haven’t dated? Fucked? What would be the point? And I couldn’t think of sleeping with someone after Emily. It would be a...betrayal.
“It’s nothing.”
Landyn followed me to the front of the room and gripped my shoulders. “Casper, you’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you, you know that. I also know the anniversary of...is coming up. Maybe you should talk to someone.”
I gripped his shoulders back and then removed his hands. “I’m just tired, Landyn. But, thanks. I know you’d do anything.”
I walked out of the room and changed the subject to avoid giving Landyn another opportunity to offer more counseling—which I didn’t want or need. “You still seeing Rose?”
Landyn grinned widely. Dude had it bad. “Yeah, I am.”
“Surprised.”
“Huh? Why?”
“You usually don’t let them hang around for more than a night or two.”
“Rose is different.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Landyn said with a warning growl. “She’s not the type you sleep with and forget.”
“It’s kind of wrong for you to categorize women like that.”
“You only say that because you fell in love young. You only have that one notch.”
“And you have enough to ruin a belt.”
Landyn shoved me into the corridor wall. I darted toward him, and he put his hands up. “I’m the quarterback! If you hurt me, they’ll fire you.”
“Pansy.”
“Idiot.”
We laughed. He was right; I’d only had one, because that’s all I needed. All I ever wanted. When you find the perfect girl, what’s the point of all the rest?
CHAPTER TWO
SIOBHAN
“You both have agreed to allow the other person to speak without interruption.” The therapist looked pointedly at me. “Siobhan, please let Phillip finish, and then you’ll have the opportunity to respond.”
I crossed my arms and bit the insides of my mouth to keep from blasting this ancient, frail-looking woman who was only doing her job: mediating a couple that should just break up.
So why the hell am I here?
“Siobhan...”
My fiancé looked at me with those large, puppy-dog eyes that I fell for in college. Years ago. Should’ve wised up by now. I deserved this.
“Siobhan, I didn’t seek out to hurt you.”
But you did!
“The only reason I was so vulnerable was because we haven’t been spending time together. We never see each other. I know we’re working opposite shifts with you at the Rhinos and I’m a bartender”—he looked at the therapist as though he was giving those details for her benefit—“but we’re gonna get married, right? We should be doing wedding stuff and getting closer. But we haven’t.”
I kept my mouth shut, listening to the tick of a clock on a bookshelf behind the therapist. I looked at the woman. “Oh, is it my turn to speak?”
She smiled thinly. “Yes, preferably without the sarcasm.”
Right. “Okay...” I sat up and angled my body toward Phillip, who sat on one end of the couch and me at the other. “So, what you’re saying is—and correct me if I’m wrong—is that because I have a job that’s paying the majority of our expenses, you are the victim of not having self-control enough to keep your dick out of thots that come into your bar every night and hit on you? After being together since we were freshmen in college—nine years—you haven’t developed enough discipline to say no and be faithful to your fiancée? That’s what you’re saying?” I spat.
“Siobhan—”
“No, I’d like to answer her, please,” Phillip broke in with a hand up. His puppy-dog eyes were on full display again after narrowing during my speech.
He thought he was so good.
But after all these years, I knew there wasn’t a shred of remorse behind those eyes. He enjoyed having sex with another woman.
In our bed.
“You’re right,” he said. “We’ve been together nine years and I should’ve said no.”
“Oh, now you sound like you’re obligated. You’re the one who asked me to marry you, remember?”
“Yeah, I did, but that means we get to be together. Do you know what that word means?”
“Apparently not. But you know what it means since you were together with her in our bed. A bed I paid for.”
His dark eyes sparked anger. “Maybe if you screwed me on the regular, I wouldn’t have had to look for it somewhere else!”
“Now Phillip, please. This place”—the therapist said making a swooping circular motion with her arms—“is a space of respect. We can’t have productive dialogue unless we respect one another.”
“Of course I know what the word ‘together’ means,” I continued. “I’m here in therapy with you! The man who cheated on me. I have every right to walk out that door,” I grounded out, pointing at the office door. I leaned in clo
se, my gaze unrelenting. “And maybe if you gave me a reason to fuck you, then perhaps I would.”
The therapist sucked in a breath. She had heard the word, even though I’d whispered it. The woman scribbled furiously in her notebook, adjusting the position of her glasses several times. “I do want both of you to feel you can express yourselves without judgment, but I would caution your use of language. Words have meanings and those types of words can evoke very strong, passion-fueled emotions that do us no good when trying to be objective and understanding of each other’s points of view.”
No way was I apologizing. He brought up the subject, so he should be able to take it.
“Siobhan, you’ve heard Phillip’s reasons for cheating and Phillip, you’ve heard Siobhan’s response. Trust in the relationship has been broken. Now, I’m a firm believer of naming the actions that lead us to the breaks in our relationships. Yes, Phillip, Siobhan might’ve spent less time with you than you desired, but your actions were preventable.”
“Just like hers were,” he grumbled.
“Thank you, Phillip,” the therapist said patiently. “Yes they were, but there were courses of actions that could’ve been taken prior to your decision to cheat. Cheating is what broke the trust. Going forward—if you two would like to continue to move forward in your relationship—we’re going to put into practice those courses of action.”
Her gaze darted between the two of us. When neither of us spoke, she nodded. “I’ll take your silence as an agreement to move forward. First, we’re going to practice verbalizing our displeasures.”
Kill me now.
Okay, sure, if there was a problem, it should’ve been handled verbally before physically—in Phillip’s case. I fought an eye roll while I listened to this petite, gray-haired woman speak to us as though we were children with limited comprehension.
First assignment: dedicate fifteen to twenty minutes a day talking about issues we’d like addressed in our relationship. That meant Phillip had to get up earlier during the day to have lunch with me at work so we could talk.
Why was I doing this? Did I really need this in my life right now? I had a great job working as a physical therapist for the Richmond Rhinos. A dream job, really. And I desperately needed it to pay off the bank loan for the failed practice I’d been a part of for the last few years. With the salary I was making now, I’d be debt free in two years or less.