“Gabi’s sick.” I pushed away from him and started making my retreat into the kitchen. “Bring her soup. Be a good friend. I have work to do.”

I thought he’d left me alone until I felt him breathing down my neck while I mindlessly rummaged through the fridge. “You like her,” he said.

“I also like yogurt. You expect me to stick my penis in that too?”

Lex burst out laughing. “I never thought I’d see the day. And let me guess, you aren’t even on her radar.”

I slammed the fridge shut. “I shouldn’t be on her radar, considering I’m her coach! I’m supposed to help her with David, not help myself to her goods!”

“She has nice goods.”

“Shut the hell up!” I lunged for him, only to have his laughter stop me dead in my tracks.

“Oh hell, man, you’ve got it bad. And you don’t even know why.”

“Because she’s a nursing major. And you know that ninety percent of male fantasies either include a sexy nurse, naughty cop, or sexually repressed schoolteacher.”

“My man.” Lex tossed me a spoon for the yogurt. “Just remember, they sign contracts. Keep your twitchy parts away from hers before you get into trouble. It says in the contract if you have sex with her, she can sue us. We did that on purpose, to gain their trust, but also to keep ourselves in check. It’s never been a problem.”

“And it won’t be a problem.” The yogurt tasted like shit.

My head felt hot.

And my skin was clammy.

Gabi!

In my mind I knew it was impossible for me to get sick from just seeing her today, which meant something was going around. Still, my patience was shot to hell, and I needed to blame someone.

“Why?” I threw the spoon against the sink and leaned against it. “One day, I’m going to kill Gabi and ask you to bury the body. Just don’t ask questions when that day happens, alright?”

“Why one day? Why not now?” Lex looked confused.

My head started to pound. “Damn it! Are you sick?”

“Uh, no. But I take multivitamins. Your idea of a vitamin is eating a Flintstone once a week when you start to get itchy from having sex in the grass.”

“Gabi must have gotten me sick,” I grumbled. “I’m going to bed to sleep it off and hopefully not die. If I wake up a zombie, take at least a few cool pictures before you decapitate me. Cool?”

“You have my word.” Lex nodded seriously as I stomped my way down the hall and slammed my door.

The last time I’d been sick was right before the draft.

Right before my life changed forever.

Being sick was a bad thing, because it felt like it was the universe’s way of telling me things were about to go to shit.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I was having the dream again.

My brain was having a hard time keeping it repressed, what with my body shaking from the chills. Damn fever.

I rolled over and closed my eyes, only to be haunted by the little boy’s face.

“Can I have your autograph?” he pleaded, jumping up and down.

I pulled out my black marker and crouched down to his level. “Dude, you can have my autograph and tickets for tomorrow’s game.”

“No way!” he shouted. “Dad, Dad, guess what?”

His dad mouthed a “Thank you” to me as a lone tear escaped his eye. I couldn’t look away from the raw pain just that one tear elicited.

“What’s your name?”

The little boy’s blue eyes widened. “Tyson! Tyson Montgomery!”

It was cute how he shouted his name, like he couldn’t believe he was actually telling it to me.

I quickly signed his Seahawks hat and then pulled out two tickets for the game. VIP. It was part of my bonus. I wanted tickets I could give out to people, but mainly I wanted tickets I could give to those who really needed to forget for a bit. Because that’s what football did for me.

It helped me forget my insane parents.

My crappy and lonely childhood.

It helped me forget that I was still lonely.

“Here you go.” I handed them over.

“Thank you.” His dad pumped my hand as I stood to my full height. “You don’t know what this means. His mom . . . she just passed, and . . .” His voice broke.

“It’s my pleasure.” I released his hand just as someone screamed in the distance.

“Watch out!” a man yelled just as a car came flying down the street, knocking over a hot dog stand and an NFL shop set outside the stadium.

I barely had time to react as the car made its way toward the little boy, who had moved down the line and was waiting for another autograph.

“Move!” I yelled.

My teammates ushered fans out of the way while the little boy stood dazed. The car made its way directly toward him.

“Move!” I screamed and then ran toward him, pushing him out of the way just as the car slammed into the left side of my body, lifting me into the air.

“Hey,” a female voice whispered as something cold dabbed my head. “It’s okay. You’re just feverish.”

I jolted awake, chest heaving, leg aching.

Blake pulled back a cold compress, her eyebrows knit with concern. “Are you okay?”

“You’re here.” Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Lex was going to kill me.

She was at my house.

We never allowed clients to come to our house. Ever.