To the jeers and cheers of the crowd, I trudged off the field, my teammates patting me on the back, shoulder, or swatting my ass. No one liked to be taken out of the game. Before I headed down to medical, I turned to see Fontaine hand off the ball, and we gained another three yards.
“Let’s go, Dev.” Mike led me to the infirmary, where I was poked, prodded, and had a light shined in my eyes. I was made to track fingers, recite the alphabet, and walk a straight line.
“I’m not drunk, you know. Just got knocked off my feet,” I joked.
“You know the drill.” Dr. Fletcher, our team physician, knew I hated medical attention and always brushed off help. “Don’t fight me, and you’ll be in the locker room to celebrate the win.”
After half an hour, I was free to go. Fletcher put a hand on my arm. “Take care. It gets a little harder when you’re closing in on thirty.”
“I’m an old man now, huh?” I teased. “I’m good.” And left to join my team.
I opened the door to the music blasting and everyone celebrating the win. The press interviewing us had already left, which I was extremely thrilled about. I had zero desire to answer question after question as to whether I was injured.
“Devil, you good?” Marlon shouted above the din. I gave him the thumbs-up and danced my way over to him, Jonas, and Brody.
“Four straight wins, baby!”
I fist-bumped Brody, then the others.
“I love the sound of undefeated on a Sunday evening,” I cackled as I took off the rest of the clothing and gear I hadn’t removed for the doctors. And because I remembered how it felt playing in my first game, taking the place of a veteran, I walked over to Fontaine.
“Hey, Luke.”
The rookie’s eyes met mine. “Hi, Dev. You’re okay, I hope?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Nice work out there to bring the game home.”
Color rose in Luke’s face. “It wasn’t much. Just running the time out.”
“Hey, that’s not true and you know it. Games are won and lost in the last few minutes, and they were breathing down our necks. You made sure we played it smart and didn’t hotdog it to prove anything.”
I held out my fist, and he bumped it, a smile brightening his face. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
I soft-punched his shoulder and returned to my locker. “God, I need my massage.” I rolled my neck and grunted. “I swear I’ve discovered parts of my body I never knew existed, and that shit hurts.” Brody snickered and I glared. “What’re you laughing at?”
“Nothing,old man,” he teased. “Guess some of us are in better shape than others.” He flexed his biceps. “I’m feelin’ just fine.”
I grinned to myself.
I bet you are. You feel pretty damn good to me.
Marlon slung a towel around his neck. “Lemme ask you something.”
“Yeah?” I turned to face the big wide receiver. “What’s up?” A frisson of fear shot through me. No matter how well Brody and I hid our relationship, it could all crash and burn at any moment.
“I heard you nixed signing with the Rockets, even though the money was mad sick. What’s up with that?”
Relieved that was all, I shrugged. “I don’t need all that. I love being on the Kings, and I wanted to stay. Simple. They made me a decent counteroffer, so I’m staying. There’s something to be said for loyalty.”
“Is that all?” Zeke tossed out his two cents from across the room. “I heard it might be ’cause you got a lil somethin’ somethin’ stashed away in the city you don’t wanna leave.” He smirked. “Or maybe a big someone someone.”
My hand balled into a fist, and I’d have liked nothing more than to take a swing at his stupid face. However, fighting never solved anything, especially if it would lead to possible injury, bad press, and definite suspension. I chilled the fuck out and raised his dumbass smirk with a sneer of my own.
“Damn, Cunningham, you are awfully interested in my personal life. Maybe you should put all that effort into training harder and figuring out how to make longer kicks. We might not’ve had such a close game if you’d made those field goals earlier.” My lip curled. “Just sayin’.”
“You bastard,” he spat and jumped in my face, but I didn’t flinch, and the team gathered around.
“Go ahead,” I said, quiet but deadly. “Do it, and I will have your sorry ass in jail for assault and make sure you never play on this or any team again.” I slammed my locker door and glared at him, but he didn’t back off.
