“Are you trying to blackball me, Bob? Make me seem like I’m unstable, so when don’t negotiate my contract no other team will want me?”
“You’ve got it all wrong, Dak. The Nighthawks want you to remain with the organization as long as you’re physically able to. You are an important part of the team.”
“Then why cut me off at the legs?”
“I’ll admit some of it was ego. I didn’t like the way our conversation went at lunch, but another part was that I truly wanted you to take the therapy seriously and be ready to rock by playoff season.”
A part of me wants to ring his neck for interfering in my steps to get back on the field, but another part of me has to respect him for calling me to admit it and apologizing. He’s the general manager. He doesn’t have to admit to anything.
“So what did you say to Miss Banks to get her to agree to it?” I ask tentatively, not really wanting to hear the answer, but knowing I have to ask it.
“I didn’t speak with a Miss Banks. I spoke to your physician, Dr. John Staples.”
“Dr. Staples?”
My heart starts pounding thunderously as the weight of what I’ve done hits me with the force of a runaway train. I’ve made a monumental fucking mistake.
“Yes, he said that you’d been attending your sessions faithfully, but that a few more months could probably do you more good.”
“Did you realize those sessions weren’t with him?”
“No…I mean, I didn’t think to ask. He spoke about you as if he was working with you directly.”
“Thank you for the apology, Bob. What does this mean for me coming back to play? The team has been kicking ass and we’re definitely headed to the playoffs. I’d like to be a part of helping us cross the finish line.”
“That’s why I’m calling, Dak. We want you Nighthawks ready come next Sunday. Have you been working out?”
“I’m always Nighthawks ready, Bob. I’ll be at practice.”
As the city awakens, the dawn illuminating skyscrapers; I come to a decision. Katrina might hate my guts right now and rightly so, but I need to fight for her, for us. I need to right my wrong, to show her I’ve learned from my mistake of mistrusting her, and that life without her is nothing but an echo of what it once was.
With a new resolve burning in my chest, I watch as the sun rises over the city we once explored together, promising myself that if she gives me a second chance, I will not blow it again.
I’ve got football back.
I’m fighting for Bella.
And now I have a new battle to win, and I won’t stop until I have Katrina back in my life, back in my arms.
As the teeming city beneath me seems to cheer me on, the streets, once heavy with memories, are now a stage for my redemption.
I’m ready.
For Katrina, for us, for our love. I’m ready to fight.
katrina
I’m reviewingthe intake paperwork of a new client I’m excited to be working with when a heavy knock at my door jars me from my focus. Before I look through the peephole, a part of me instinctively knows who’s standing on the other side.
His massive frame obscures my view through the peephole, and I stand in a quick Wonder Woman power pose before I open the door.
Pull yourself together, Trina.
He cannot know how much you’ve missed him.
“Dak,” his name slips from my lips as I open the door to face him but making sure he stays in the entrance. I’m not letting him in.
I’m surprised that he looks worse for wear, his eyes carrying a haunted look I hadn’t seen before. His shoulders are slumped, the usually vibrant light in his eyes dimmed. It strikes me then, the heavy price we both have paid for simply being together.
