Below the Belt(10)

Jesus H. Brad continually bent and straightened his leg—though the “straighten” part was more theory than actual practice—while icing in twenty-minute increments. Day one, and he was already falling apart. These three-a-days were killers. He had to be back at practice in another thirty minutes, and he wasn’t even sure if he should drive his damn car over.

Lying back on his bed, he whipped out his cell phone from his duffel and called his mom. He’d missed her call to him the day he’d checked in—thanks to being out at Back Gate—and knew she’d be worried.

When she answered, a little breathless, he checked his watch and knew he’d called during dinner time on accident. “Sorry, forgot you’re an hour behind me now.”

“Globe-trotting will do that to you.” His mother’s amused voice warmed him from the inside. “How’s my favorite son?”

“Don’t let Brent hear you say that.”

“He’s at college. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

He laughed, because he knew she’d have said the same thing to his younger brother. They were all her favorites. “Tell me what’s up with you guys?”

“What’s not up with us? Sarah’s got college applications coming out her ears, and your brother dodges my calls faster than you do.” She sighed, the much belabored sigh of a mother hen who enjoyed her chicks and hated when they were far from the nest. “Bob started a new project in the garage. He swears it’s a chair—”

“It is a chair!” he heard his stepfather call from somewhere else in the house. Probably the kitchen table.

“And it’s a lovely one,” his mother insisted.

Brad smiled. His stepfather was always trying a new woodworking project. The family had long ago resigned themselves to the fact that they would never be able to actually park their cars in the garage.

“I need to hear how you are. Making any friends? How’s the food?”

“It’s not summer camp.” He groaned as he tried once more to straighten his knee. The pop and grind made him want to gag. That was just so wrong. “It’s like boxing camp on steroids.”

“Are you hurt?” With a mother’s intuition, she poked at the raw spot with scary accuracy. “Are you in pain?”

“Pain is gain,” he joked. She made a sound that said she wasn’t amused. “I’m fine. I’m sticking with it.”

“Making this team isn’t the end of the world.”

He sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly. Here we go again.

“Your father was proud of you, no matter what. Just trying, being invited to the tryouts . . .” His mother’s voice choked, and he mentally cursed being so far away. “Making the team wouldn’t matter. Your father would be pleased with you just giving it a shot.”

He might be. But Brad knew he wouldn’t feel right if he didn’t make it to the All Military games. Completing that final hurdle was something he’d felt pressed to do the moment he’d joined the Corps. Not by any outside source, but by something inside him.

“Giving it a shot’s only the first step. I’ve got this, Mom.”

A knock on the door had him tossing the nearly melted ice bag into the trash can by his bedside and shoving the heating pad—which he’d purchased at the MCX on the way home with all the stealth of a ninja—under his pillow. “Hold on,” he called.

“Should I let you go?” his mother asked in his ear.

“Yeah, someone’s at the door. Probably my roommate.”

“Okay, baby. Go make friends!”

“Sure thing, Mom. Love ya.” He fought a grin as they finished their good-byes. His mom liked to pretend he was at nothing more than overnight camp, making crafts, learning to paddle a canoe and singing camp songs around the fire at night.

Another knock reminded him why he’d ended the call. “Come in.”

Higgs poked his head in. “You heading over soon?”

“Sure, yeah. Of course.” Why, had he heard something?

Brad studied his roommate’s face, but the man seemed completely oblivious.

“All right then. Want to just ride with me?”

Perfect. The solution to his driving dilemma. He’d been worried enough driving himself home after the morning practice, with the way his knee was aching. Now that it’d had over an hour to stiffen up, driving was a real concern. “Thanks. I’ll just grab my gear and meet you out there.”

Higgs nodded and shut the door behind him, leaving Brad back in blissful peace.

His head thunked against the wooden headboard. What kind of shit luck did he have? Maybe he really was too old for this sport.

Even as he thought it, he cursed under his breath. He wasn’t even thirty yet. Too old, my ass. So everyone was younger. Big deal. He had more years of experience, and he’d had more years to build up a thick skin and a long endurance.

He’d just have to be careful from here on out. At least until the knee healed. Who knew, maybe by tomorrow he’d be up and running again full speed. The travel must have thrown his body out of whack. Or sleeping in a new bed. He’d catch up, he’d adjust and he’d be back on track by tomorrow.

Next week at the latest.

Now all he had to do was avoid the sexy athletic trainer with eyes who saw too much. If he wasn’t careful, she’d sideline him as a preventative measure and his chance at the team would be done for. Nobody was going to wait around for him to heal. He wasn’t the strongest or the fastest.