“I don’t want to—” Tanner began, but Lance cut him off quickly.
“You’re not imposing at all. If something about the game bothers you, just head for my brand-new, fancy-assed bar that we laboured over, grab a bottle of whatever you fancy and a straw. Better yet, make it two straws!” Lance knew how well Tanner responded to humour, and it might not have been totally legit, but decided to weaponize it for his own agenda.
After a few seconds of hesitation, Tanner nodded.
“Okay, thanks,” he conceded. “Guess it’s past time for me to watch a better quarterback throw the ball down the field, anyway,” he added, just to get a rise out of Lance.
Lance grunted and punched his good shoulder in retaliation.
The game was well underway by the time they got settled on the couch. The cleanup phase of their completed projects took awhile. After the pizza was delivered, they grabbed their beers and collapsed in front of the TV. At the end of the first quarter, the Badgers were ahead by 3, and much to Lance’s surprise, his little brother made it onto the field. It wasn’t unheard of for incoming freshmen to get called out to play, butParker had done little more than ride the bench so far that season.
The snap was made. The Badgers’ quarterback did a rollout and sent a beautiful pass flying over the defensive line of the Buckeyes that landed squarely in Parker’s waiting hands. Parker took off like he had wings, carrying the ball right into the end zone.
“Damn—I knew there had to be a better Kingsley out there!” Tanner exclaimed and laughed boisterously.
“Do me a solid and choke on that pizza!” Lance snarked and elbowed him.
He’d watched most of his brother’s games but since Parker had played so little that season, he’d gradually lost interest. But not tonight. His brother was playing exceptionally well, and he was duly impressed.
“Parker is a damned good player. Might get called up to first string after this game,” Tanner remarked.
“Fast, too,” Lance said admiringly, watching his little brother dodge between the behemoth linebackers trying to block his advancing to the 10-yard line. “Everything alright? Game’s not triggering you or anything?” He kept his voice low as he broached this sensitive topic.
“So far, so good,” Tanner replied and smiled over at Lance. He was leaning forward a bit, body twisted so that his free hand—the right—could massage the muscles in his left thigh.
“Your leg okay?” Lance tried not to sound overly concerned.
“No worries. It’s just muscle spasms,” he said, shrugging, as he continued to massage his leg. Lance worried his bottom lip thoughtfully. On the one hand, he knew all too well what those felt like, having spent hours during his football career getting his thighs and calves worked on by physical therapists hired by the team. He’d learned a lot about massaging cramps. On the otherhand, he was worried that Tanner would think it was weird if he offered to help. He didn’t want to freak him out and mess up their friendship.
“Feel free to tell me to fuck off, but I’m actually pretty good at dealing with muscle cramps. Want me to give it a go?” Lance offered while gazing at the TV. He sensed Tanner was looking at him and weighing the merits of his offer.
“You offer to massage a lot of guys on your couch?” Tanner asked with a smirk.
“Jackass—” Lance muttered good-naturedly. He shook his head and frowned at him. “Yes, or no?”
With a wry laugh, Tanner scooted farther back on the couch and sighed.
“I already ate your food, drank your beer, and slept on your couch. Guess the least I can do is put out,” he said, cheekily. Lance muttered that everyone wanted to be a goddamned comedian these days, before moving Tanner’s leg so it laid across his lap while they watched the game.
Tanner was wearing a pair of jeans, but the denim was worn thin enough that Lance could still work the muscles. He started off slowly, applying pressure to different sections and paid close attention to how Tanner responded. When he found a particularly tight muscle, he began working it in small circles, gradually relieving the tension. He noticed conflicting expressions of pain and relief cross Tanner’s face as he watched the game.
“Did you teach him how to play?” Tanner asked, seeing how well Parker kept catching the ball.
“Nah—” Lance replied. “Kid was always self-motivated. I taught him how to catch a baseball, and how to count his paces when running from point to point, but I had nothing to do withthis.” He was truly awed by Parker’s performance.
*****
Watching Lance stare at his brother like Parker might be the next-big-thing was a little surreal. Only a week ago, Tanner had done the same thing when Lance appeared on his doorstep. Lance’s football hero days were a thing of the past, but Tanner remembered them like they were yesterday. It wasn’t surprising that Lance was so humble because he was such a decent person. But humble enough to find his brother’s prowess so impressive? It said a lot about the type of man he was. Tanner was toying with the idea of telling Lance that, but then Lance’s massaging suddenly pinched something in his lower leg that had Tanner howling in pain before he could stifle it. Lance jerked his hands back quickly and looked at him guiltily.
“Sorry,” Tanner said, before Lance could say it first. He leaned forward and, biting his bottom lip against the pain, moved his leg slowly, until something shifted back into the proper position with a slight click. Once the pain abated, he looked up to see Lance frowning.
“What was that noise? What just happened?”
“One of the screws is a bit loose, and sometimes, when I twist the wrong way, the bone fragments slip a little. Kind of have to—click it back into place.”
“The bone fragments?” Lance repeated questioningly, a slight quiver in his voice.
Tanner nodded and desperately wanted to get back to the game. He could see it wasn’t going to be easy. Even though Lance had been careful up to now not to press Tanner for specific medical information, Tanner knew that wouldn’t last. Something about the set of Lance’s shoulders and tense expression told Tanner confession time might be at hand.
