I knew she was only trying to be helpful, but I refused to show weakness in front of my team.
“Nah, I’m good. I’ve got one more.”
We headed to the coaster built into the mountain, and it was a little less enjoyable as the beginning of a headache thumped behind my eyes. I shook it off, refusing to quit. We had lunch, and after some food, tons of water, and an energy drink, I felt better. I’d stopped in a little convenience store and bought some massively overpriced pills to help my head, and they worked.
The gang suggested the Star Wars ride next, and I was all in. One of my favorite movies ever. Brody and I sat together, and just being with him, living our best life, made it all worthwhile. Lights flashed, and the rides spun. The longer the ride went on, the worse I began to feel. My head throbbed, and all the colors melted together.
Fuck, I’m going to be sick.
I sat praying I’d hold on until the ride was over, my eyes closed and hands gripping the rail. Everyone else was too enthralled to notice me, and I sucked in a breath of relief when it was finally finished. Careful not to fall on my face, I climbed out of the ride. Once outside and in the fresh air, I thought I’d feel better, but I quickly found a trash bin and threw up. Brody and several of the guys raced to my side and helped me to a bench.
“I’m all right. I’m okay. Must’ve been something I ate.” I rested my head on my arms and concentrated on taking in fresh air. “I just need some water.”
Brody crouched in front of me. “I told you it was too soon. I hope you didn’t hurt yourself.”
“I’m fine,” I responded, sharp enough that they all stared at me, and I realized we were in a public place and people were eyeing us. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m just gonna hit the bathroom. You guys go on ahead.” I forced a smile. “Ms. Faith and I will catch up with you in a bit.”
Of course they all followed me inside. I rinsed out my mouth, and Jonas gave me a juice from his daughter’s bag. I drank it all down. “Thanks. I feel better now.”
I was telling the truth, but my reaction to the rides meant I wasn’t as recuperated as I’d thought. And that scared the hell out of me for the future.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Brody
Three months later
“Yeah, for sure I’ll take it,” I told Ezra, who called me early that morning to let me know the Kings wanted to extend my contract and were offering four more years at more than fifteen million a year, guaranteed. “I’d be crazy to say no.”
Laughing, Ezra agreed. “Well, yeah. Obviously, the Super Bowl win and your performance in the playoffs made them realize they need to lock and load you. I can’t guarantee a no-trade clause, though. They’re really stingy with them these days, even for superstars. I’ll get the contract to the lawyers and let them review all the fun stuff, like salary cap and incentives. But you’re gonna end up being one of the highest paid tight ends in the league.”
“Not too shabby for an old man of thirty.”
“And you’re thrifty with the money, that I know. Dev said he monitors all the finances.”
“He’s great like that.” From the glass doors looking out onto the yard, I could see Dev, striding up the path. Every morning, no matter the weather, he took a five-mile walk. Alone. He said it cleared his head and the fresh air helped his recovery.
“I’m glad he’s got something to fall back on when he’s no longer playing.”
“What do you mean?” A chill ran through me. “Why are you sayin’ it like that? Did you hear somethin’?” A second passed without Ezra responding, which was a second too long. “Ezra. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”
“Nothing at the moment. I swear. But I gotta tell you, the Kings don’t want to lose Luke Fontaine after his performance this post-season.”
I grew angry on Dev’s behalf. “So they wanna trade Dev? Are you fuckin’ serious?”
“I’m not saying that’s what’s happening. I promise you I haven’t had any outreach from management, and I wouldn’t lie. He still has time left on his contract, and a lot can happen. But between you and me, he didn’t do himself any favors with that amusement-park trip and getting sick on the roller coasters.” Ezra’s sigh matched my own.
As we’d feared, Dev’s “incident,” as we called it, had made the rounds of the sports news: “Is the Devil too sick to return? What’s the real story behind Devlin Summers’s injury?”Of course people had taken pictures of him getting sick over the trash bin and cradling his head in his hands, us surrounding him with worried faces. The press was only too eager to plaster them everywhere.
The speculation made us so damn angry, and it hurt Dev to his core. Fallon had done a masterful job of keeping the media at bay by putting out statements from Dev and his physicians. There were carefully timed releases this winter showing Dev up here in the mountains, either snow tubing, or on his walks, fresh-faced and clear-eyed. On his forays into the city for PT or medical exams, he’d always do a little shopping, and again, a positive photo of Dev would pop up, looking fit, skin glowing, always with a smile on his face.
But the bottom line was money and whether he could play with the same fierce intensity he was famous for. Two bad concussions were enough to give the team pause to think, no matter how Dev behaved in the off-season.
“I’m not gonna argue with that, Ezra. I warned him it was too soon. But he’s been doin’ great up here. Resting and following up with his doctor appointments online. He went to the city and had the tests, and they all came back normal.”
“That’s great. I’m sure he has nothing to worry about. Dev’s the best in the league, one of the greatest ever. They know his worth.”
“I hope so,” I grumbled. “The kid was good, but he’s still unproven. A few playoff games and even a Super Bowl win doesn’t make him a replacement for someone like Dev.”
