Cooler minds.
It was around eleven when I made my way to the trainer’s office. Turning each corner, I hoped to run into a green-eyed beauty. Either she was avoiding me or our paths weren’t meant to cross. I suspected the first and hoped for the second. Not crossing paths was easier to remedy.
“How are you feeling, Fin?” Lacy Reynolds asked as I entered the exam room.
I met Lacy my first week with the Coopers. She was a certified athletic trainer and a physician’s assistant. In her mid-fifties, Lacy had been with the Coopers since they moved to Crystal Light Stadium.
“Sorer than I’d like to admit.”
She hummed and nodded. “Where? Besides that left cheek.”
“Everywhere,” I said, hoping to be funny. By the look on her face, I saw my attempt at humor wasn’t hitting its mark. “I soaked in the hot tub this morning before our meeting. I just wondered if you had any other recommendations.”
Lacy asked me to lie down on one of the tables. After I did, she began her examination. The nylon shorts I was wearing gave her access to my calves and thighs. Pushing and kneading the muscles and tendons in my legs and hips, she asked, “How are your ribs—your sides?”
“Good.” I took off my shirt, pulling it over my head, and she examined me for bruises and tenderness.
I groaned as she kneaded my right shoulder. “Tender?”
“A little.”
“We should get an MRI.”
“I’d rather not.”
Lacy took a step back and crossed her arms. “That’s not how this works. I’m not asking.”
Sitting up, I swung my legs over the table and gave her my sexiest grin. “Hear me out.” She lowered her arms—it was a start. “Dennison is out for at least the next game. You know more than I do.” She didn’t respond. “I haven’t had any pain during practice, but I’d blocked out the way it feels the day after being run over by eight trucks in one afternoon. I’m good for thenext game. I just wanted some suggestions on feeling better and healing quicker.”
“You could have a torn?—”
“Could, but I don’t,” I interrupted, moving my right arm in a complete windmill forward and then backward. “We don’t have a third-string quarterback.” I jumped to the ground, reached for my shirt, and pulled it over my head. “I’m not asking for meds, just suggestions.”
Lacy pressed her lips together before sighing. “No physical activity today or tomorrow. Ice on for twenty, heat on for twenty, today and tonight. Tomorrow, heat on for twenty then nothing for twenty. If you’re worse tomorrow, don’t ignore it. Come in and see me. If you’re not better by Wednesday morning, come to me before practice.”
I quirked my grin and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She reached for my arm. “You’re not invincible, Fin.”
“Oh, do I know that.”
“Playing injured doesn’t help the team.”
I shook my head. “I’m not injured. I’m beat up. There’s a difference.”
“Come back after your position meeting. I’ll have a shoulder wrap for you to take home. It’s both warm and cold without changing ice packs.”
I agreed.
During lunch, I kept my eyes peeled for any sign ofVee. While others from the stadium operations side of the building came and went from the cafeteria, Vee wasn’t among them.
Considering it was the day after a win, the players sitting around my table were more solemn than usual. It was our collective concern over Dennison. The most animated the discussion became was when Packard’s name was mentioned. The consensus was that the NFL should fine him in addition to his three-game suspension.
The last meeting of the day was with Coach Garcia, my quarterback meeting. Since Dennison was out, it was only the two of us.
“You came through for us, Fin,” he said as I took a seat. “Your instincts are good.” His forehead furrowed. “Coach Pratt calls plays for a reason.”
“It was a good call until it wasn’t,” I said. “The defense read our lineup. The backs didn’t have a chance of completing the first down. Patel was open. The first down gave us time to run out the clock.”
