“It feels so good to be out.”
Elliott eyes Griffin’s knee briefly before looking back to the road. “The recovery is always brutal. The guys who go straight home don’t really have it easier.”
Griffin nods. “It’s the mental part really. We know how to get hurt. We know how to stick with it through discomfort.”
Elliott nods. “You going to keep coming to practice?”
Griffin has thought about it, and he can’t decide what’s the best thing to do. Coach leaves it up to injured players to do what they need to do to recover, and for some players, trekking to and from the facility only to watch is torture. For others, it keeps them connected to the team and feeling encouraged. Griffin doesn’t know which bucket he’ll fall into. “I might for a bit. See how it goes.”
“You can’t rot in that condo alone.”
“Agreed.” Griffin lets out a grunt. “Ugh. I feel like I can’tdo anything. Like why do I even exist if I can’t play the game? I’m totally lost, man.”
“You’re going to come back,” Elliott says. “I know it’s rough.”
“Maybe. Or maybe not.”
Griffin feels the heat rise in him. He’s usually good at keeping his anger under control. On the field he channels it into play. But what’s he supposed to do with it now?
“Come on, man. You know that attitude will kill you.”
Griffin sighs as the quickening of his pulse aggravates the throb in his knee. “You’re right. It’s just easier said than done.”
“You just need a distraction—a project—for the time being.” Elliott signals and turns onto the road where Griffin’s building sits.
“I’m not sure there’s much I can work on outside of football,” Griffin mumbles.
“What about Aria? Now you actually have time to run around and do stuff together.”
Griffin looks away, out of the window. “I don’t want her to see me like this. I don’t wantanyoneto see me like this.”
“I think Aria genuinely likes you, so I’m not sure why you feel that way.”
“Just let me have thisone thing. I know it’s the right thing.”
Griffin knows it’s a cheap shot, that Elliott’s right that spending time with a friend could actually improve his mood. Especially one who reminds him of the world outside of football and has even pointed to the way he belongs in it.
“Fine.” Elliott pulls into the circular driveway in front, the one used for deliveries and drop-offs. “But then humor me on my next suggestion.”
“I’m all ears.”
“South Shore High asked me if I’d mentor some of the athletes, the ones who are dedicated and show promise. I can only give so much time, and there are tons of players who could use guidance. Someone to believe in them.”
Griffin perks up. He was expecting something much more up Elliott’s alley, like parties with supermodels or attending fashion events, partnering with nightclub managers to host parties featuring the players.
Griffin has always liked kids and enjoyed the times he’s worked with them at the Wardens’ summer camp. Never before has Griffin gotten a chance to dedicate any real time to it, not with the demands of practice and games, and then the off-season training required to keep him in shape.
“Sure thing,” Griffin says.
“Yeah?” Elliott brightens. “It’s not a massive time commitment, but these kids will go nuts over time with a Wardens player.”
Griffin feels the corners of his mouth twitch. “I’m happy to do it. Now let’s just hope they’re okay with getting a gimpy one.” He glances quickly at his wrapped knee, then away.
“You’re not a ‘gimpy’ Wardens player. You’reGriffin Hayes. Don’t ever forget that.”
Griffin accepts the compliment, and Elliott begins the process of helping him up to his place. Griffin puts himself on crutches for the first time in a while, and the small independence feels good. He’s always hated having to rely on someone to push him around, and his surgeon didn’t want him using crutches in the first couple of days of recovery.
Elliott grabs Griffin’s belongings, and as they head insideand take the elevator up to the top floor, Griffin can’t help but linger on Elliott’s last comment:“You’re Griffin Hayes.”
