“Coopers,” we said louder.
“We’ll kick their ass,” Dennison spoke softly. “If they make the wild card, we’ll kick it again.”
A smile curled my lips. “Fucking A.”
“We’re going to review the Titans’ playbook,” Coach Tilson said. “Pratt, run the tape.”
Coach Pratt ran multiple tapes of the Titans during their last seven games, highlighting their offensive plays. Coach Brown did the same for their defensive plays. Watching their plays and breaking them down reminded me of the afternoon I spent in Vee’s office with her checker setup.
Vee had the playbook; she just needed to figure out how to run them. With the film, we didn’t know the Titans’ play calls, but we could break down each play in our own language. In next week’s practices, the practice squad would run the plays as the Titans would.
It was after noon by the time Coach Tilson told us to eat lunch and come back tomorrow ready for light practice, beginning with spider sessions and ending the day with walkthroughs. That meant we’d focus on mental reps, technique, and more film. There wouldn’t be any pads or full-speed contact. Our bye week gave us until next Monday for that.
“Rhodes, Graham, and Patel,” Coach called, “head over to the trainers. Let them take a look at your injuries and see how you’re healing.”
I wanted to hear that I was cleared for play the following Sunday. However, if I was open about the way I felt, there was still a twinge in my side when I moved a certain way. For the most part, I’d followed Lacy Reynolds’s orders. She’d told me to take it easy and rest.
Minus my extracurricular activities with Vee, I’d done as Lacy said. Without disclosing too much information, I started our activities Wednesday night with Vee on top for that reason. As excruciatingly satisfying as it was to watch her boobs bounce in my face and feel the friction of her tight pussy while she was on my lap, my drive and need overrode any thoughts about my rib.
In short, Vee was just too damn sexy to take it slow.
My lips curled at the memory of us finally making it to bed. The final time was sensual and calming, taking us from the high out by the fireplace to slumber, both of us too worn out to do anything but close our eyes and fall fast asleep.
Lacy was waiting for me when I arrived at the wing of Maker’s Mark that held the training facility.
I gave her a wink. For a woman in her mid-fifties, she was attractive. For a certified athletic trainer and PA, she was thorough. “We need to stop meeting like this.”
She grinned. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m actually seeing many football players. Sorry, Fin, you’re just one of the bunch.”
Laying my fist over my chest, I feigned disappointment. “And I thought I was someone special.”
“You are. You’re part of the Coopers, and it’s my job to make sure you’re healthy enough to play.”
“Honestly, Troy Dennison is healed. I won’t be seeing play time.”
“Let’s get a new CT scan. I’m still concerned with your sternum. The last images came back inconclusive. Have you experienced any of the symptoms I mentioned before? Shortness of breath? Increased chest pain? Or pain that required medications even over the counter?”
“No.” I answered quickly. When she waited for more, I went on, “Once in a while when I move just right—or wrong—there’s a twinge in my side. You said I should judge my own pain, and I’d say it’s at zero most of the time.”
“When it’s above zero,” she asked, “what would you rate it?”
“Maybe a two.”
“My experience with you football players, a severed limb is only rated a four. So we should pay attention to a two.”
“Then, after reconsidering, it’s a one.”
She shook her head. “Are you done for the day?”
My cocky smile was back. “Are you asking me out?”
Lacy Reynolds rolled her eyes. “I was going to tell you to come back tomorrow morning before the light practice to get the results if you’re heading out.”
“Dennison is working out in the weight room.” Before she could tell me that weights were still off-limits, I added, “I’m only going to be there to spot for him. The kid’s excited to get back out on the field. Four games can seem like a lifetime. I want to make sure his head is in the game.”
“Okay. No lifting. Now let’s get the CT scan. Come back in the morning. I’ll call you if I need to speak to you sooner.”
Less than half an hour later, I was in the lunchroom sitting at a table with other members of the offense. Since I wouldn’t be practicing until Coach Pratt got the go-ahead, I forewent the five-thousand-calorie high-performance menu and instead, filled my plate from the massive salad bar. Most of my protein came in the form of a specialized protein smoothie.
