Necessary Roughness (HotShots Book 1) by Courtney Cole Read Free Book Online

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    Chapter One
    N icky

    “ W ell , Sam, I’m not sure what the future holds for Nicky Chase. You can’t come back from an injury like that and play worth a damn again, especially since he’s thirty-two. That’s practically geriatric in football, as you know.”
    “Fuck you,” I grumble at the news-caster, as I switch the TV off. Nothing good will come from watching their bullshit. It’s not like I don’t know what happened to me. One doesn’t simply forget an injury like mine.
    One doesn’t forget getting slammed from each direction by two-hundred pound men, in a way that bent my spine completely backward and blew out my knee.
    I felt the moment that it hyper-extended and all the sinew and ligaments snapped from the tension . I felt it. It was an odd release of pressure, and then… a whole shit-load of pain.
    That pain still hasn’t gone away, not completely, after two surgeries and two months.
    The limp hasn’t either.
    No one needs to remind me that I might never play again.
    I hobble out to the kitchen and grab a beer. I don’t bother looking at the clock, I know it’s before noon. I don’t give a shit. I’m not training right now, and so fuck it.
    I grab a pizza, too. Cold, leftover from last night.
    Fuck that, too.
    I DON’T GIVE A FUCK.
    I inhale the pizza and two beers at the kitchen counter without even bothering to sit. The act of sitting and standing back up afterward is more pain than its worth. I don’t mind admitting that to myself. Admitting it to others, though, is a whole different story. Which is why I don’t leave my house. No one needs to see me limp around like a used-up has-been. No one needs to see my pain and feel sorry for me.
    I’ll overcome this. And no one needs to see me until I do.
    My phone, which is lying on the counter across the room, buzzes insistently. I can see my Manager’s name flashing on it from here, and with a sigh, I limp over to pick it up.
    “Hey, Shorty,” I greet him. His name is ironic, since he’s six-five.
    “Hey, pussy,” he answers back. I grit my teeth. He and I have had a running “you’re a pussy” joke for five years or so. But nowadays, when I’m limping around, it hits close to home for me. But I won’t say a word.
    “What’s up? You signing me to someone else today? Let me guess… the Sinners are going to officially release me from my contract, and you’ve got the Forty-Niners wanting me bad.”
    I try to be wry. I try to be casual. I try not to act like my whole world is falling apart.
    Shorty chuckles. “Not exactly. The Sinners are waiting to see what happens with you—they’ve got that PT coming over- don’t forget- and they’ll decide whether to keep you or release you based on what she says.”
    Fuckin’ A. I forgot.
    “So this chick gets to decide my whole future?”
    Shorty pauses. “It’s not like that, bro, and you know it. You’ve got more money than God already, and hopefully you’ve invested it rather than pissed it away. You were going to have retire in the next few years anyway. So don’t look at it like you are.”
    “I have invested it,” I tell him. “I’m not a dumbass. I’m fine on money. I just… I wanted to go out on top, Shorty. I don’t want people to remember me as a cripple.”
    Shorty bursts out laughing. “Uh, so far, you’ve got over twelve thousand rushing yards on your record, over 40 touch-downs, and an average of five yards per carry. You’re basically Superman. No one, and I mean no one, is going to remember you as a cripple.”
    “Just don’t count me out yet,” I tell him firmly. He answers immediately.
    “I never count you out, Nick. Be nice to the Physical Therapist. Do everything she asks of you, and for God’s sake, don’t fuck her. She’s got to be unbiased. If the owners decide she isn’t… well, it’ll make everything harder.”
    I snort. “The last thing on my mind right now is fucking anyone,” I assure him.
    But he doesn’t believe me.
    “You’ll