Griff Montgomery, Quarterback Page 19

  She giggled, sliding her palms up his bare chest. “An offer I can’t refuse.”

  “Downstairs. More privacy.”

  “I thought you didn’t care?”

  “I don’t. Don’t want to rub his face in it, either.”

  She chuckled, pushed away from him, and slipped a robe over her nightgown.

  “You’re not sleeping in that, are you?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Yeah. We’ll see it hanging on the bedpost, beautiful,” he whispered, taking her hand and leading her downstairs. She suppressed another giggle as she tiptoed soundlessly down the carpeted steps, feeling like a sixteen year old.

  Once she got behind his closed door, Lauren was grateful he’d convinced her to join him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was cold that December day, a week before Christmas. Griff put on a long sleeved thermal shirt under his uniform. He grabbed his cap, gloves, and jacket, too. He needed to keep his throwing arm warm, which would be a challenge.

  He peeked out toward the stands and spied his father and Lauren, their legs wrapped in blankets. She held a cup in her hands. He’d bet it was a hot drink. At least he’d be moving some of the time today, not sitting still. Damn hard to stay warm in the stands.

  The sight of his dad and his girl together swelled his heart. His life was coming together. After this game, he planned to propose to Lauren. The stupid commitment idea was a weak step in their relationship. Why bother with that, he told himself. Just go right to the big question. His confidence grew. Having the girl he wanted and his biggest fan rooting for him today, how could he go wrong?

  He went out to warm up with Buddy. They tossed the ball back and forth. Griff’s arm was strong, his eyesight clear, and his passes pinpoint accurate. The Nevada Gamblers were warming up on their side. Darvin Sweetwater was good, but Griff knew he was better. The wind had died down and was no longer a factor in getting the ball to his target. He thanked God for that break.

  The teams ran out on the field and stood for the national anthem. Adrenalin kept him warm. They lost the toss, and the Gamblers elected to kick off. Griff didn’t mind. He’d be getting into the action sooner, keeping his body limber. Rumor had it that the Gamblers had the biggest defensive line in the league—average weight two hundred thirty pounds. That didn’t scare Griff. He had a strong offensive line to protect him.

  With Bullhorn Brodsky leading the front line, Griff dropped back to search for an open man. Homer Calloway had two men on him, but Buddy Carruthers was alone. Griff rifled one to Buddy, who plucked it out of the air with ease. The brutes on the Gamblers took him down, holding the Kings to a fifteen yard gain. Griff was pumped.

  Next play, Griff again dropped back. Buddy was covered by two men and Homer by one. Griff’s blockers accidentally created an opening. Griff scrambled through and hightailed it for the first down. A huge defenseman flew at him. Griff slid, as if running for home plate in baseball, but the big man was already in flight. He landed smack on top of Griff. Ribs pushed into the ground, his body seemed to compress for a split second then bounce back.

  A penalty was called for “unnecessary roughness.” Bull offered Griff a hand. He pushed up and sprinted back to position.

  The next play was a diversion. Griff faked a hand-off to Buddy on his left, but really slipped the pigskin to Caleb Turner on his right. He took it for eight yards before they brought him down. Griff noticed Bull was still on the ground. Time out was called, and the Kings’ trainer ran onto the field. The team stood around, watching Bull hug his thick ankle.

  Nothing ever happens to Bullhorn Brodsky. He’s fine. But the trainer signaled for the cart while Bull was helped up by two of his teammates. Griff touched helmets with the big man as they took him away.

  “It’s only a flesh wound,” Bull kidded, locking eyes with Griff.

  “Fuckin’ better be. Then, get your ass back here. I need you,” the quarterback replied.

  Lawson “The Kid” Breaker ran out onto the field. He was Bull’s backup. Griff swallowed. Lawson was called “The Kid” because he was twenty-two. He had been acquired in a special deal Lyle Barker, the owner, had cut with the Delaware Demons. The Kid was as green as they come. Griff looked at the bruisers on the Gamblers’ front line. He uttered a silent prayer and went into the huddle.

  Play after play, the Kings marched downfield. They scored. Then, it was the Gamblers’ turn. Darvin Sweetwater threw well, but the Kings defense cut them off. They charged down to the thirty yard line, where the Kings’ stopped them with an interception, taking possession of the ball.

  At half time, the score was Kings, twenty-one, and the Gamblers, seven. Griff checked on Bullhorn.

  “Twisted. I’m out for today, but I’ll probably be able to play next week.”

  “You’ve got to be okay for the playoffs,” Griff said, staring at the trainer, who was rewrapping Brodsky’s bad ankle.

  “I will. Just make sure we get there.”

  Griff checked the stands and nodded to his father and Lauren. She waved. Strength oozed through him. He flexed his arm. The muscle was warm and feeling good. He was ready to start the second half.

  Not long after the second half kick-off, the Kings recovered a Gamblers fumble. Griff trotted out to take command. He kept his eye on The Kid, the weak link in the front line, but so far, he was holding strong.

  Then, it happened. Two defensemen blitzed Lawson Breaker, and he went down. Griff spotted Homer and was taking aim. The two men barreled forward, rushing through the line. Griff saw them out of the corner of his eye, but chose to fire off the pass anyway. They leapt at him as he let go of the ball, taking him down sideways, piling on top. He heard the crack seconds before pain seared through him and everything stopped.

  The stinging agony rocketed through him so strong it took his breath away. He saw stars then everything went white. Closing his eyes, he lay still, because it hurt like hell to move. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. His body froze in position. From far away, he thought he heard a whistle. The two enormously heavy bodies were lifted off him. Still, he couldn’t move. Tears from the intensity of the agony formed. He blinked them back.

  He didn’t want to open his eyes. This is a bad dream. It’s not happening. I’m going to wake up any second. But he didn’t. He didn’t hear any noise and again thought he was dreaming. But dizziness made him nauseous, so he was forced to open them or throw up in front of everyone.

  The normally boisterous crowd was silent. Voices called his name. The moment the trainer tried to turn him on his back, sharp, stinging pain ripped through his torso, making him gasp.

  * * * *

  “Look out, Griff!” Lauren screamed, but it was too late. The noise in the stands was deafening, and he wouldn’t have heard her anyway. She gripped Hank’s arm with all her might as she watched two brutes sweep the rookie lineman out of the way and charge toward Griff. He wasn’t looking. Lauren bit down so hard on her lip that it bled. She was bouncing up and down, hollering to Griff, but in a flash, it was too late.

  She watched him go down hard with two giant defensemen toppling over on him. The big guys rolled off, and Griff lay still. She fisted Hank’s sleeve. He covered her hand with his. The referee blew the whistle to signal the play was dead. The audience quieted down instantly when the quarterback didn’t move. Lauren jumped up and screamed his name. Hank gasped. He immediately hit the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  She waited, her eyes wide, her pulse racing. Adrenaline pumped through her body, raising it to high alert. Still, Griff didn’t move. Two trainers raced out onto the field. They bent down. She couldn’t see what was happening. Pushing her way through the throng, now on its feet, she made it to the stairs and flew down, following Hank. Her feet moved so fast she could hardly feel them.

  Once she got to the field, she still couldn’t see what was going on. Fear raced through her. Slipping past security, she snaked her way through the fans, getting as close to the bench as possible. Buddy turne
d and spied her standing there. He shook his head. Griff still wasn’t moving. Tears clouded Lauren’s eyes, and she couldn’t stop the flow.

  She spotted Hank, who came over to her.

  “I’m gonna go with him.”

  She cocked her head. “Can I come?”

  “I’m sorry. Family only.” He put an arm around her and squeezed.

  Suddenly, Griff’s helmet moved. With help from the trainers, he sat up. The crowd roared and clapped. Two more men came with a stretcher. Griff waved them away. They helped him to his feet, and he slowly walked off the field. The spectators chanted his name as he disappeared into the locker room.

  Lauren went to the door, but was shoved aside by trainers and medics.

  “I’ll let you know what happens,” Hank said, patting her shoulder.

  In that instant, that very moment, Lauren knew exactly how she felt about Griff Montgomery. She loved him with all her heart. Her stomach knotted, and her chest tightened. He was the most important person in the world to her. She knew then she had to marry him. Damn the consequences.

  It didn’t matter what happened with a pregnancy, or if he left her. She had to be with him, for however long. Being shut out hurt as much as if someone had punched her.

  The guard stepped in front of her. “Family?”

  She shook her head. “Girlfriend.”

  “I’m sorry, miss. I can only admit immediate family.”

  She nodded her understanding. She’d be family. She had to. Whatever happened to Griff, she wanted, needed, to be there with him, helping him. And nothing else mattered.

  She waited outside the locker room. An ambulance arrived.

  Griff walked out wearing his jersey and sweatpants. “No ambulance.”

  “It’s the rules, Griff,” the man standing next to him said.

  The quarterback turned, raising his gaze to hers. Emotion rose up, trapping words in her throat, but tears poured down her face.

  He took her hand in his. “I’m okay. Probably just a broken collarbone. Go home. Take it easy. Dad’s coming with me.” She nodded. He swiped his fingers over her cheeks. “Don’t cry, baby.”

  “I’ll be home. Waiting.”

  He tried to bend down to kiss her, but grimaced when he changed position.

  “Come on, Montgomery. Gotta get you some serious pain meds.”

  Griff cupped her face, handed her his car keys, smiled, and was gone. His dad climbed into the ambulance next.

  She got in his car and sat for a moment, with the motor running and the heater going full blast. Deep breathing calmed her. She dried her tears and put the vehicle in gear. What does this mean for his career? For us? Questions swam through her mind as she drove slowly home.

  She parked and entered the house. Spike was at the door, barking and jumping up to kiss her with his puggy tongue. She smiled to see him. He needed dinner so she fed him and poured herself a generous brandy. After turning on the television, she watched the news about Griff. There was no information she didn’t already have.

  Sudden hunger gripped her belly. She heated up some leftovers and flipped channels until she found a romantic movie. Then she ate, sipped, and cuddled up with Spike and a crocheted throw. Lauren decided it was time to face life and stop running away. Making a decision calmed her heart, but worry about Griff still nagged at her.

  She dozed in front of the television, only to be shaken awake by Hank at two o’clock.

  “Talk later,” he whispered before hiking up the stairs to the guest room. Lauren yawned and headed for Griff’s room. She stripped off her clothes, lifted Spike up under the quilt with her, and fell into an exhausted sleep.

  * * * *

  When she dragged herself out of bed at eight o’clock, Hank was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Griff’s car. Lauren was miffed he didn’t wake her and tell her what was going on.

  I’m just his son’s friend with benefits. I don’t count. She set her jaw, fished her keys out of her purse, walked Spike, and then headed to the hospital.

  At the desk, she was denied access to Griff’s room. She argued and pleaded, to no avail. Then, she spied Marnie coming down the hall. “Hey, Marnie! Help me, please. They don’t believe I know Griff. They think I’m some crazed fan. Could you tell them the truth?”

  Marnie put her arm around her friend. “Is Griff here?”

  Lauren’s voice shook. “He was hurt yesterday. They won’t let me in to see him.”

  Marnie turned to the nurse in charge. “Grace? My friend, Lauren, is living with Griff Montgomery. I think he’d want to see her.” The woman in white cocked her eyebrow at Lauren and frowned. “Well, if Marnie says…but I’m not sure about this.”

  “This is legit, Grace, honest.”

  “Room 126, down the hall, on the left.”

  “Thank you.” Lauren hugged Marnie then practically ran down the hall. She stopped to take a deep breath before pushing open the door.

  The small room was stuffed with people, including a doctor, another man talking to him, Coach Bass, who she recognized from the games, Hank Montgomery, and Griff, in bed wearing a special collar and a sling. The men were talking and arguing. Lauren managed to slip past them. Griff smiled at her.

  “How are you?” She touched his arm.

  “I don’t know, yet. I have to have surgery, then heal, then train my ass off. I’m thirty-three. I don’t know if this is the end of my career.” The crease between his brows deepened.

  “Come home. I’ll take care of you…” She took his hand.

  “It’s not like a bowl of chicken soup will make this all right. I’m not coming home.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to New York for surgery then back to Indiana with my dad. We’ll have to take a break.” He eased away to adjust the sling.

  “Why? Come back to my house.”

  “Actually, mine is ready. I’m going there tonight. Then, we leave for Manhattan.”

  “What about us?” Lauren could barely choke out the words.

  He took her hand, kissed the back, and laced his fingers with hers. “I need to get well before there’s an us. I may not have a job. I need to know where my life is going before I make anything…uh, permanent with you. Do you understand?”

  “I don’t care about that stuff.”

  “But I do. I need to focus on getting my career back. That has to come first. I have nothing to offer you now, but an injured athlete. One who might never play again.”

  “But…I…”

  He put his finger over her lips. His eyelids fluttered.

  “Excuse me. Excuse me, people. Everyone out, please. My patient has to rest.” The doctor opened the door.

  Reluctantly, she was swept out with the others. Hank was the only one to remain. She drove home, wondering what had just happened. When she arrived, Spike was barking, and there were several cars parked in front of her house.

  Buddy Carruthers approached as she put the key in the lock. “Hey, Lauren. How you doin’?”

  “Been better, Buddy. What’s up?”

  “Hank asked a few of us to come over and get Griff’s stuff. He’s moving back to his place.”

  She stopped to stare at him for a moment. “Oh. Sure. Okay. Come in.” She threw the door open. A few other teammates exited their cars and followed Buddy. Lauren spent the next hour gathering his belongings. The big men hauled clothes, books, and his television down to their vehicles.

  Lauren felt like she was going through another divorce. But the men were nice and polite. She even saw a touch of sympathy in Buddy’s eyes.

  He patted her on the shoulder. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see. Here’s my cell, just in case.”

  She nodded, even though she doubted what he said. Holding Spike in her arms, she waved goodbye as the three cars pulled away from the curb. A heaviness in her chest spread sadness and emptiness through her gut. Her footsteps echoed down the hall as she marched into his room. Lauren stripped the bed, bundled the sheets, and threw them in
the washer. The space looked sterile, unoccupied, like a hotel room when the occupant has checked out.

  She fell down on the mattress, pulling the pillows to her chest, and cried. Spike jumped up and licked her face.

  She opened each dresser drawer. In the bottom one, there were two items. One was a rectangular package wrapped in red paper with a gold ribbon. The tiny card said it was for her from Griff. The other item was a pair of brand-new running shoes, still in the box. She slipped his present under her small tree, picked up the ones she’d bought for him and his dad, and got in her vehicle.

  One call to Buddy gave her Griff’s address. Shock hit her when she pulled into the driveway. Buddy opened the door. The men from the Kings were still in the house, drinking beer.

  “Welcome, Lauren. Come in. Have a brew.”

  “No, thanks. This is really Griff’s place?” she asked, putting down the box of shoes.

  “Hell, yeah. Whoever did this did a great job,” Buddy said, looking around.

  “I did this.”

  “You?” He turned to stare.

  “So, Griff was the mystery client?” She shook her head and smiled.

  “This is awesome. Would you do my place, too?”

  “Let me show you around.” She led the men through the house, from the home gym in the basement, to the living room done up in fall colors. The den had a wild feel to it, with jungle wallpaper and a grass rug. His master bedroom, with a king size bed, had a deep pile rug, perfect for bare feet, and was decorated in shades of blue and silver.

  All three teammates took her card.

  Lauren pulled Buddy aside. “What’s going to happen to Griff?” She chewed her lip.

  “Hey, it’s a long road back, but he can make it, if he tries hard enough. He’s out now, but should have enough time to be in shape by training camp next summer.”

  “Do you think he can?”

  “I think he can do whatever he makes up his mind to do. He’s that kinda guy. He’ll be back, Lauren. Don’t worry.” He gave her a hug then they descended the stairs.