“Ah, Tahegin,” Valentine sighs as we enter. He’s an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a matching beard. Taking off his wire-framed glasses, he gestures for us to sit before rubbing his eyes. His white coat is discarded on the back of his chair, and the large cherrywood desk is clear save for a desktop, a phone, and a manilla folder, which he opens after replacing his glasses. “Before we go any further, I just want to verify that you wish to discuss your medical information in front of . . . Sorry, I recognize you as a player, but I can’t recall your name.”
“Hendrix Avery,” I offer, extending my hand over the desk to shake his.
“He’s been helping me,” Tahegin explains quickly. “He and Aleks brought my mattress downstairs to make it easier for me to go to bed and whatnot.”
Valentine nods thoughtfully. “Yes, his presence has been noted on your chart. I just want to make sure I can discuss your . . . progress with him present.” He hesitates on the word “progress,” and my spine stiffens. They’re concerned about his healing, too.
“It’s fine.” Tahegin’s voice is tight. We haven’t spoken much about his injury, but now I wonder if he’s nervous as well.
“Okay.” Valentine blows out a heavy sigh. “I want you to get another scan before you leave today, but from what these reports are suggesting, it seems as if your hamstring is struggling to heal. The concern is that your body isn’t allowing the strain to get better. I can’t say that is the case before asking if you are adhering to your at-home instructions and resting your leg between therapy sessions. Have you been putting any”—he glances at me—“undue stress on your leg? Any—uh—strenuous activity?”
The doctor is going about this delicately, I realize as it takes Tahegin a minute to understand what is being implied. I’ve fallen back in my seat, hand rubbing over my mouth, by the time he fully grasps the meaning of Valentine’s words. He looks at me, scruffy face and blue eyes appalled behind his glasses, which he has been wearing since the injury. He told me he wears them more in the summer once football season is over, but seeing him with them in public is still strange.
Tahegin’s mouth forms a silent “oh.”
Valentine folds his hands on the desk, giving Tahegin a no-nonsense look. “It is imperative for your healing—and your career—that you rest your injury.”
“I understand.”
When Valentine’s eyes meet mine, I shamefully nod my understanding also.
“All right.” He hands Tahegin a piece of paper. “Go get a follow-up scan, and I will call you with the results once I have them. Resume alternating ice and heat for the next forty-eight hours, and your therapy appointments will resume on Saturday after you have rested. And it is back on the crutches for you, okay?”
Fuck. What have we done? Did we really risk his career to get off a few times this weekend?
Nodding solemnly, Tahegin shakes the doctor’s hand and stands, looking dazed. I follow him out, but he doesn’t stay a word before limping for the area containing the team’s large medical machines. I know I can’t join him there, so I take a seat and pull out my phone to pass the time.
There is an email notification waiting for me. Checking it, I quickly read the body of the message, then click on the number listed at the bottom, calling right here and now.
A feminine voice answers after two rings. “Victoria Ash.”
“Hi, this is Hendrix Avery from the Los Angeles Rubies. I just got your email. Is this a good time to talk?”
“Of course. It’s wonderful to hear from you, Hendrix. Tahegin has told me great things about you.” She seems nice, if the smile in her voice is any indication. “Based on our emails, it appears you are in need of an agent, and I gotta say, I’m glad you’ve chosen me. You are a wonder on the field, a real up-and-comer. Your stats have been great, and I imagine they’ll only get better from here. I put some feelers out on you, Hendrix. Every team in the league knows you aren’t on contract, and they’re just chomping at the bit to poach you from the Rubies in March. If you hire me as your agent, I promise I’ll get you the best contract, the most money, and your pick of team.”
I absently fiddle with a loose thread on the hem of my shirt as I listen to her. “I want to stay with the Rubies,” I tell her, silently adding to myself, I want to stay with Tahegin.
“I can do that,” she promises. “And I don’t make declarations lightly. I always give cold, hard facts. I never say anything I can’t guarantee.”
If Tahegin trusts her, then I see no reason why I shouldn’t. I agree to her coming on as my agent and ask about payment. She explains her onetime retainer fee to hire her. After that, she says we will negotiate a certain percentage of my yearly salary. If I fire her, she’ll continue to receive the payments for the contract she negotiated. If she fires me, she forfeits any further payments and returns the retainer fee. “Just a little thing I like to throw in to sweeten the deal. I’ve never had to fire a client,” she informs me.
“What would make you fire someone?”
“Oh, I don’t know. If they were a total asshole to me or others, I guess. Or if the percentage of their contract wasn’t worth the time I would have to spend promoting them. Don’t worry; that would be a very low number for a star player. Like Kane Kennedy”—she name-drops one of the most famous tight ends in the league, who coincidentally just came out, thus making him even more popular right now—“taking on a rookie salary. At that point, it wouldn’t be worth taking my cut.”
It makes sense, so I nod despite her not being able to see me. “Okay, Ms. Ash. You have yourself a new client.”
Her smile sounds even bigger as she says, “Call me Vikki. Now, let’s make you some money, honey.”
✧ ✧ ✧
“He took my fucking horse, dude!”
“Parley.”
“No! I’m going to kill this motherfucker.”
Tahegin’s sigh is right in my ear, courtesy of the headset I’m wearing. “He’s already killed you, like, ten times. You haven’t shot him once.”
“Well, maybe if someone would help me—”
“I’m busy. I have to complete this mission . . .”
A new voice chimes in. “You two sound like an old married couple,” Aleks complains.
Currently, I’m sitting on the couch in my apartment, playing video games with Tahegin and Aleks. It’s been three weeks since the news came in that Tahegin’s hamstring wasn’t healing as it should. I’d felt like it was my fault his injury got worse, so that night, Aleks took my place at Tahegin’s house. I haven’t been alone with him in person since then—haven’t trusted myself to not do anything that might hurt him further. Aleks has supervised us, or we have video chatted at night once we’re alone and . . . Yeah, one thing has led to another a time or two, but I figure he’ll jerk it whether we’re on the phone or not. I might as well enjoy the view, right?
And I do—enjoy it. I’d stressed about it, of course. But remembering that night in the shower, and then the nights after we spent exploring each other’s bodies, gets me hard instantly, no matter where I am or what I’m doing. The first night our video chatting had gotten tense with desire, we’d been talking about our intimate moments together—about our hands on each, me making promises to touch him once he’s fully healed—and I had noticed his shoulder moving. It was subtle and slow, but there was no mistaking the way he bit his lip to stifle his soft noises and the way his eyelids drooped with lust. We’d jacked off together with the cameras angled on our faces. The next time, though, we’d both found a way to prop up our phones for a full-body view.
“Stop tripping, Sour,” Aleks butts in again. “I’m coming to take care of that guy, and then you’re coming back to the camp so we can run some missions, okay?”
Reluctantly, I agree. We’re playing online where other players can mess with us, and this one in particular shot me for no fucking reason and has continued to shoot me each time I respawn. I’m new to this game—Tahegin and Aleks suggested it—so I haven’t quite figured out all the mechanics and the best way of doing things. There is a learning curve, and while it is frustrating, I’m happy to be spending time with Tahegin in any capacity.
Aleks manages to snipe the guy from afar, then kills him a few more times for good measure. Finally, the other player gives up, and we head back to our camp to reconvene with Tahegin.
On the long trek back to the camp, I decide to address the elephant that has been in the room for the last three weeks. “Hey, T. How’s your leg?” I’ve avoided outright asking, only letting him tell me on his own terms how his therapy appointments have gone or how well he’s getting around without his crutches, which were nixed a week after our visit to Dr. Valentine.
“It’s doing a lot better,” his voice comes clear through the headphones, and I can hear the genuine happiness in it. “I’m nearly back to full range of motion, and it hurts less after each rehab appointment. I don’t even limp unless I’ve been on it all day, so Kiss is going to be heading back to his place in the next week or so. I’d already be sleeping in my room again upstairs if Kiss would help me move my damn mattress.”
