Chapter1
Why aren't they cheering? Didn't I make it? Did I drop the ball? No, I can feel the ball in my hands. Penalty? Damn, who fucked up? I'm gonna kill whatever sonofabitch took away my touchdown. Why can't I move? Get off me, fool! I'm down, get the fuck off me!
“Calm down, Jump, we've got you.”
“Breathe, man, you're gonna be fine.”
“We’re getting a cart, Jump, don't try to move.”
Cart? Why do we need a cart? What's going on?
“Ready? One. Two. Three.”
Jared’s moving. What the hell is happening? He's immobile, why is he immobile? Why won't somebody tell him what's happening? Flashes, lots of flashes. The buzzing fluorescent lights of the tunnel fly by. Paul leans over him, his gnarled face grim. Jared sees his reflection in Paul’s glasses, neck brace. Dammit.
“Jump, it's gonna be okay. We're gonna head straight to the hospital. They're gonna be ready for us. You're gonna be okay, I promise.”
Paul leaves his line of vision but Jared can hear him shouting instructions.
“We’re gonna give you something for the pain, Jump.”
He didn't feel the injection but Jared “Jump” Jackson could feel his football career fading with his consciousness.
“You’re sure this guy won’t run right to the press?” Jared asked his agent.
“Of course, Jump.”
Derek didn’t even look up from his phone. He rarely did these days. Jared’s surprised he even agreed to escort him to his temporary home.
“He signed the gag order, then?” Jared continued.
“Patient confidentiality applies here.”
Derek sounded annoyed. Why did he even come?
“Because that made a difference for Andre Masters,” Jared mumbled stubbornly.
He remembered when the news broke on his predecessor’s career-ending injury. Andre hadn't expected it and definitely could have kept more money if he'd just kept the lid on it for another few months.
“That leak was not from his medical team,” Derek insisted.
“That's not what the papers said,” Jared argued, “and that guy lost his job over it.”
“Indeed,” Derek actually looked up from his phone, “and then he landed a job as a trainer for the Pirates making three times what he made before. Do you think that would have happened if he'd been the leak?”
Jared considered his agent’s argument but just responded with a lazy shrug. He shouldn't have been surprised. Pro football was nothing like he expected it to be. There's so much more than playing the game. His image, his partying, his clothes – everything became a strategy. Just like rehabbing in this Podunk Midwestern town while the media camped out at his homes in L.A. and Houston where they expected him to be.
Maybe a few would even make their way to his parents’ ranch in Montana but nobody would ever think to look here. Jared watched the skyscrapers disappear as they wove through the suburbs to the house he rented for the next several months. He scratched his face, hating the beard he grew for additional camouflage.
Bitterness flared in his chest as Jared evaluated the tiny ranch home tucked back in a cul-de-sac and surrounded by several nearly identical, bland homes. An all-star athlete worth millions of dollars and he had to settle with this little piece of crap; pissed didn’t even cover Jared’s feelings on the matter.
"Welcome home," Derek said casually, eyes trained on his phone.
He hopped out of the rented SUV and headed for the house leaving Jared to clumsily navigate his own way out with the crutches he was relegated to for the time being.
It’s a good thing Jared was athletic or climbing out of this car with crutches and the leg and back braces would have been impossible. He hobbled clumsily up the driveway, attempting to avoid the weed-filled cracks breaking the cement slab in awkward places. The small walkway to the door was even worse than the drive and then he had to climb two uneven steps to the porch, perhaps the only thing he liked about the hideous puke-colored house, so far. Jared could see himself enjoying a beer on this porch – probably several, actually. Thankfully, Derek opened the rickety screen door for him and stepped aside so Jared could enter.
“Maris will be cleaning up after you every Monday and Friday when you are at PT. If you leave her a grocery list, she can handle your shopping, too.” Derek began the rundown but Jared knew he had it in an email somewhere. “Rick will be your driver the entire time you're here. He's signed the forms and understands the consequences of giving up your secret. You are set to check in with Dr. Radlinski at the hospital every two weeks and he will update the team on your status. He's one of the best orthopedic specialists in the nation so if anybody can get you back in shape, he can.”
“Yep.” Jared’s heard this all before. A lot. “I have cable, right?”
“Nope, I got you a dish with all the channels, man. Only the best for Jump Jackson’s rehab. We have to have you in tip top shape for a comeback.” Derek clasped his hands together, his nervous tic. At least the smooth-talking agent had enough grace to realize he was being a dick. “I think that's it. I have a flight to catch but I will check in soon. If you change your mind and decide you want a nurse or a companion, we can make that happen.”
“No, I'm good.” Jared forced a smile. “I'll be back on my feet and jumping in no time.”
“That's the attitude!” Derek offered what Jared thought of as his Ken-doll grin. “Don't forget your PT this afternoon. Rick will pick you up at,” he looked at his phone, “12:30.”
“Got it.” Jared nodded. “Get outta here or you'll miss your flight.”
“Take care, Jump.” Derek dipped his head and bowed out.
Jared found himself alone for the first time in weeks. He surveyed his temporary living room, bare bones but not uncomfortable with a cushy leather recliner and giant flat screen TV. He spied a few game systems connected to it with a handful of games. At least Derek hooked him up with entertainment. Jared hobbled into the kitchen; small and simple but clean. The clock on the microwave read 9:30 in bright blue numbers.
This time change would take some getting used to. He would have loved to shower after flying but he hadn’t t been able to bathe on his own since, well since before. The realization of everything he took for granted was not lost on Jared and he could not wait to be independent again. Hopefully this guy, A.J. was as good as his profile suggested.
**
“You can do whatever you like while I'm in PT.”
Jared let Rick help him out of the car. It was tough getting in to the bucket seats but getting out was worse – difficult and painful. Rick apologized several times and promised to secure a different vehicle for the rest of Jared’s stay. He liked Rick immediately, the older man was recently retired and just looking to make some extra money for his youngest daughter’s wedding and honeymoon. Jared listened intently as Rick prattled on about his daughter, his other children, his life, and anything else he could come up with to fill the drive to the Amherst Hospital campus.
“I’ll just hang out here, if you don't mind, sir.” Rick dipped his head respectfully, revealing balding spots in the midst of his too-white hair.
“Please, just call me Jay.” Jared hated the nickname but in light of anonymity, it was his best bet. “And you are welcome to go get a bite to eat or something, I'm going to be a while.”
He assured Rick a few more times before the driver actually left. Jared was only half-annoyed by the over-protectiveness of the older man. It reminded him of his dad and he wondered if Derek selected Rick for that very reason. Then he thought, nope, Derek would not have been that thoughtful, just luck of the draw.
Jared navigated the lobby to the main desk and asked for A.J. Thompson. The nurse behind the desk wore an L.A. Panthers lanyard that caused Jared a moment of panic but his disguise must have been better than he imagined because she barely gave him a second glance before dismissing him to the waiting area. Hm, some fan, doesn't even recognize her team’s star wide receiver, Jared thought.
“Jay Walker?” A female voice called out his pseudonym three times before Jared actually responded to it.
“Here.” Jared awkwardly made his way back across the lobby. “I'm Jay Walker.”
“Right this way.”
The woman was tall, unusually so, since she wore sneakers and still practically looked him in the eye. She had to be at least six feet tall with a curvy figure that filled out her scrubs in all the right places. More than that, Jared found her beautiful, not like the overdone, plastic and silicone women he'd been accustomed to.
She matched his slower pace as they headed down the hall but stayed just ahead of him which gave Jared more opportunity to appreciate her shapely back side. Jared tried to make small talk but quickly got the feeling that she did not like him. It was more than the icy silence; it was the way she carried herself. Could he have slept with her and left her at some point?
“Did I do something to offend you?” The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them.
"Now why would you think that?” She stopped at the last door, gestured for him to enter, and closed the door behind them. “Because my regular patients have been bumped for an all-star athlete with a bad attitude?”
“What?” Jared gaped at the woman as she settled behind the desk and glared at him.
“You heard me.” The woman’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I was told I had to clear my schedule for a VIP patient. I didn’t want to but it was made very clear that if I didn’t oblige Jump Jackson then I didn’t have a place at Amherst any longer. So, it seems I’m stuck with you but I don’t have to be friendly. Polite and professional were the two words they used.”
“I’m sorry, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Jared stammered, taken off-guard by the woman’s demeanor, “my understanding was that I would be working with A.J. Thompson, the physical therapist.”
“You are, genius. Alexis Jayne Thompson.” This clearly amused her. “Now, shall we discuss our plan? I’m not going to go easy on you, all-star, not by a long shot.”
“Wait, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” Jared turned up the charm, crafted the smile that never failed and apologized. “My agent, Derek, misled me. I truly am sorry for the misunderstanding. I am really looking forward to working with you and I have no problems giving 100% to my recovery.”
“Oh, I’m sure of that.” A.J. smirked. “How many millions are on the line if you can’t return to L.A. this fall?”
“It’s not about the money.” Jared worked hard to control his tone, it wouldn’t do to show his temper after years spent learning to restrain it. “I love playing the game. Can you understand that? I’ve been working toward this since I was six years old.”
“Indeed.” She squared her shoulders, narrowed her dark brown eyes, and studied him. “We’ll see how much the game means to you.” A.J. flipped through the pages of his chart. “Let’s get through the evaluation so I can see how much work we have to do.”
“Fair enough, Ms. Thompson.” Jared decided to try a different approach.
“It’s just A.J.” She closed his chart. “Have you done any exercise since your injury?”
“No.” Jared gritted his teeth, ashamed to admit the truth to this woman, but other than graduating to crutches he’d been less than sedentary.
“Do you have pain?” She scribbled on her notepad without looking at him.
“Yes.” He responded evenly, willing her to look at him, frustrated when she refused.
A.J. focused on her notes instead, purposely avoided him. “Where?”
“My left leg and my lower back.” Jared wondered how long they could continue that way, gauging which approach would crack this woman.
“Have you noticed weakness in your other extremities?” She paused but still didn’t meet his gaze.
“No.” Jared leaned back in his chair. It would take a lot to win this woman over.
“Are you taking pain medication?” She marked a few more notes in the file.
“No.” Jared answered firmly. She glanced at him briefly, as if measuring his truthfulness. He stared her down, affirming the truth of his answer. He’d not been on any meds since two days after his last surgery. “I hate how they make me feel.” Jared didn’t know why he admitted it to her, but he couldn’t help himself.
Surprisingly, A.J. nodded approvingly. “Good. How are you sleeping?”
“Well enough.”
Jared studied her as she avoided him. A.J. had the smoothest skin, generally unblemished but for a scar across the knuckles of her right hand, puckered and pinkish against her mocha skin. He wondered where she got it, what could have happened to mar that lovely woman and why she’d not had it fixed. Her slender fingers bore the marks of an athlete, slightly thicker at the knuckles, indicative of one too many jammed fingers.
“What sports did you play?”
This got a reaction. A.J. whipped her head up, eyes narrowed, suspicious. “Why do you ask that?”
“Your fingers,” Jared pointed at her hand, “you’ve jammed several of them, many times over, I would guess.”
“So now you’re a doctor?” A.J. mocked, a wry smile toyed at the corner of her mouth.
“I was going to guess volleyball because of your height,” Jared continued unfazed, “but basketball seems far more likely.”
“Can we just finish this evaluation?” A.J. glowered at him. “I have other patients to see who, contrary to your beliefs, are just as important as you are.”
“So, basketball it is then.” Jared nodded, his confidence returned. “Power forward?”
“Either answer my questions or get out of my office.” A.J. pointed to her door.
“Yes, ma’am.” Jared fake saluted her. Maybe not the best idea.
“Get. Out.” A.J. set her jaw, eyes burned with hatred.
“But don’t you have to still do a physical?” Jared asked innocently, playfully, and turned on his boyish charm, the one that always worked.
“Get. Out,” she repeated, eyes blazing, jaw clenched.
Jared forced his body to stand, dipped his head respectfully and with his cockiest grin replied, “See you on Wednesday, same bat time, and same bat channel.”
He headed out, made a show of his struggle to open the door, and exited with a silly grin toward his new physical therapist.