The Game
The Game
By: H.J. Bellus
The Game
Copyright © 2014 by H.J. Bellus. All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: December 2014
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-009-9
ISBN-10: 1-68058-009-4
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To my husband.
You listen to me complain and celebrate.
Hold my hand through it all.
A king wouldn’t trade his crown for this!
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Prologue
1982
“You have to come, Levi. You’s my best friend, and my mom is making us special food and everything.”
“I just have to ask my dad.”
All the enthusiasm from Brady’s face disappears; he knows what the answer will be. Levi never gets to attend parties or sleepovers.
“I’ll just sneak some leftover cake into my backpack and bring it to you at school on Monday.”
“I’ll be there, Brady, even if I have to run away.”
The outcome was inevitable. Levi never stood a chance of living a normal childhood. Time after time he was told…
“Winners are born, and champions are groomed to perfection, son.”
His father’s simple response every time, and Levi knew it meant no.
Levi never stood a chance at a real life.
Chapter 1
Levi
“Surgery went well, Levi, but it looks like you’ll still be out about two full months. You should be back on the field mid-season. My advice is to rest up and follow your physical therapy to perfection.”
“Two months?” I question, hoping I heard him wrong.
“Levi, your body can’t take many more hits, and it definitely deserves a full recovery.”
Trying to sit up in the bed, I begin to argue again. “But football is my…”
“It’s only going to take one wrong hit on your spine, and you’re done. Done, as in the rest of your career, or finished, as in a wheel chair. Without a full recovery, your chances of being in a wheelchair the rest of your life is heightened.” Dr. Valentine hesitates a moment, jotting down some quick notes on a prescription pad, and then continues. “It’s your choice, Levi. You need to give your body the time it needs to heal. I will be the only one clearing you to play again.”
The doctor’s words are crystal clear, and I can see none of my razzle dazzle and shit-talking will convince him otherwise. The words finished and done scare the living shit out of me. They are my worst nightmare and truly haven’t been a reality for me until now. I feel it every morning when I get out of bed. Muscles, bones, and joints all scream in protest with every single movement. Just the simple act of tying my shoes has been painful.
I knew it would be a vicious tackle to take me out, and it was. In a fucking pre-season game where it’s understood to take it easy on the players, especially the first string. I guess karma is a bitch. I saw number eighty-two flying my direction, but chose to put all my faith in my linemen to block him or at least hold him off until I released the ball. There was a wide-open receiver for a gain of about twelve yards, but I wanted the long bomb for the TD. When I saw my receiver finally open up in the end zone, it was just about the exact time the defender took me out. Lost the ball, lost the game, and lost my opportunity to play for two months.
“Want me to contact your father? You’ll need someone around.”
“No, I’m good.”
“Levi, I can’t stress to you how important this recovery is. You’ll need someone around for physical and mental help. I don’t think any of your blonde bombshells will be much assistance at all.”
His last words make me laugh because he’s absolutely right. None of my frequent weekend entertainment is in it for the long haul. They’re all plumb satisfied with a weekend full of hot and heavy sex.
“No, don’t call my dad. I don’t need his judgmental, overbearing ass on me.”
“Well, you’re going to need some type of assistance over the next two months. Who else is here in Dallas?”
While finally being able to shift my head enough to look out the window, I answer, “I’ll have my driver pick me up.”
“You’ll need help, Levi.”
“I’ll fucking take care of it.”
Everything inside of me wants to pick up the nearest object and chuck it at the window or the doctor’s face. Glass breaking or some bones crushing under my hands would feel brilliant right about now. I have nothing left to live for until I can get back out on that field.
If I were my brother, Lincoln, I’d have a loving wife and a dog at home to comfort me while I heal. Instead, I have trophy case after trophy case to console me—oh, and my three Super Bowl rings. The one thing about the trophies and rings is they are amazing and life altering to win in the heat of the moment and during the passion of the game, but the metal grows cold mighty fast, leaving behind rapidly fading memories.
My dad has always groomed me to be a living legend, something to talk about for years and years. Football was and has been my only option, throwing the pigskin in the back yard after school and on weekends, attending every single football camp within a hundred miles of home, and watching tape after tape of game films. I could recite any playbook when I was six years old. Lincoln, on the other hand, loves football as well, but played it his way. He did it without Dad’s approval. And that’s my biggest regret; I wish I could’ve been strong like him. Instead, I was molded into my dad’s dream.
Feeling guilty and like a typical ass, I finally let the surgeon know I’ll be okay and taken care of.
“I’ll call my driver and fly back to Colorado to one of my homes.”
“Who is there to help you?”
“Lincoln and Lynlee.”
“Good, I’ll set up a physical therapist for in-home services. We’ll do everything on our end to get you back out on the green.”
“How many nights do I have to stay here?”
“With how smooth the surgery went, I’d just like to observe you for the next couple days. Why don’t you make arrangements to fly out on Thursday?”
“Fine.”
“Do you want to call any family or friends?”
“Nope.”
“Levi, I’d like to help you through this.”
“Then I need more pain meds.”
Moments later a nurse walks in, and I watch as she injects something into the tube of my IV. She’s quite the hot piece of ass. I’d definitely be tapping that shit all night long. She even has a sweet smell covering her body that I could easily visualize myself consuming.
“Levi, this
will make you drowsy,” she says, capping the needle.
I can’t seem to pry my eyes from the back of her as she reaches up to dispose of the needle and syringe in the red container. A strip of her flesh peeks out between her scrubs, and this narrow glimpse sets me on fire. I find my hand willing itself to reach out and touch her before she turns around.
“I’ll be your night nurse, so if you need anything, push this button. Oh, my name is Ashley, so just let me know if you need anything, and I do mean anything.” She finishes off her word with a flirty little wink in my direction.
My insides turn with her looks, scent, and presence. I’d definitely be taking this one home for a couple nights. Yes, she’d be granted a VIP pass to the Wilks’ Wild Weekend Express, hosted smack dab in my bed at my mansion in Dallas. My hand finally responds, stretching out in her direction, and when she places her petite little palm in mine, I know I have her.
“Ashley, I could do so many things to you. I’d love to see those panties of yours…”
Before I can finish my last word, everything goes black.
***
“Sir, you’re not supposed to walk. I’ll get your wheelchair.”
“Just shut the fuck up and get my bags.”
I let Lincoln know I was coming to stay for the next couple months. For fuck’s sake, in reality it’s my house. Lincoln and Lynlee have lived here since they married. They both wanted to stay in Colorado since it was the place they met, and Lynlee wanted to go to college. Lincoln lucked out and was drafted to Denver.
The assholes have the perfect life just the way they want it. I can’t deny the fact; they fought tooth and fucking nail to get it. They didn’t pussy out and let someone else call all their shots, and I, for one, wasn’t going to allow them to live in the home Lincoln and I were raised in.
Dad and Lincoln have truly worked through most of their shit, and Lincoln still came out the way he wanted. Played defense, went to the college he wanted, majored in what he wanted, dated who he desired, and let his middle finger fly to the rest who didn’t approve. Not me. I’m the oldest, and yearned for approval around every corner, leaving me with a hollow life.
“Sir, you are not supposed to walk.”
Turning to the naïve puke of a driver, I lay into his ass. “Do you fucking realize who you’re talking to? Do you?”
The young douche clams up. The look on his face is almost comical. Even in my weakest state, I have the power to bring pussies like him to his knees, and I enjoy every fucking second of it. It might make me an arrogant ass, but being a dick is the only saving grace I possess.
“And you’re weren’t supposed to be born, so shut the fuck up, already,” I add to sting the wound a little more.
I feel muscles rip and tear as I try to peel myself out of the limo. The pain is familiar and immediately reminds me of my younger days when my dad demanded perfection from each pass. I now have the same sensation years later trying to simply walk from a car to the front fucking door of my own home. The pain is so intense I want to ask the young puke to honk the horn to get Lincoln’s attention to come help me, but then again it might be even worse to have the brother I envy help me.
I never would’ve thought ten simple steps would be the longest of my ever-loving life, but I want to be the dick to knock on my own door. I bet Lincoln is about to sit down and eat dinner with his wife, with his dog lying obediently at his feet. Fuck, I bet she’s the kind of woman to bake his ass chicken potpie every Thursday night. What a douche.
Before my hand instinctively turns the doorknob, I decide to ring the doorbell at the last minute. I chuckle to myself, imagining Lincoln complimenting Lynlee on his dinner and petting her knee under the table, only to mutter curse words when he hears the doorbell ring. Lincoln may be a wild spirit, and we might as well have different fathers, but I can call his next move from a mile away. Some might say we haven’t been brothers for years, yet I know him better than anyone on this earth, and right now he wants to knock the lights out on the fucker ringing his doorbell, because he was moments from taking his wife to bed.
When the door opens, it’s neither Lincoln nor Lynlee looking back at me. To my utter amazement, my fucking little bro has gone and hired the hottest fucking home nurse. A blonde bombshell stands before me, and I try hard as I can to keep my jaw from dropping wide open. Every muscle in my body is aching, yet my cock has no problem springing to action for the juicy blonde. It’s obvious my home nurse hasn’t had the chance to change into her naughty little nurse outfit.
“Well, are you going to invite me in, Nurse Nancy?”
“Excuse me?”
Talking slowly and deliberately, I say, “Are. You. Going. To. Invite. Me. In?”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” she asks, and the rush of her hot breath brushes my lips.
The smell is so sweet and tender it makes my cock bulge even further. I know one thing for sure; this nurse will be checking my blood pressure topless tonight.
“Levi,” comes a familiar voice, Lincoln. “You’re supposed to be in a wheelchair. What the fuck you doing walking already, bro?”
“Well, if Nurse Nancy here could help a fellow out...”
Not only do I say it, but I also gesture with my hand grabbing myself.
Another voice joins the mixture and it’s Lynlee’s this time, “Levi, you made it.”
When her gaze hits mine, I see the same concern as in my brother’s eyes. They know I should be sitting, not standing. They know the consequences all too well.
Without, allowing her to respond, I relieve their stress. “Well, if Nurse Nancy would move her ass, I could get up into my bed and get down to business. I knew Valentine was setting up in-home therapy, but not an in-home nurse.”
Grabbing the inside of the doorjamb, I force myself into my house, and looking around the place, I really like what they’ve done with it. Looks like a home, the perfect loving home, and complete with two dogs to kick.
The big-tittied blonde looks mystified and almost a little horrified with my arrival. Doesn’t the bitch realize this is, in fact, my house? Or maybe she has no idea a three-time world champion just graced her with his presence.
“Weren’t expecting your patient to arrive so early or what?” I finally ask, breaking the silence.
“I’m not a nurse.”
Losing my patience with this stuck up bitch, I demand, “Then who the fuck are you?”
The bitch really has some balls, as I watch her step up into my face, pinning me down with her best death stare.
“Stop,” Lynlee yells and pushes her way in between us. “Levi, this is my best friend, Jazzy. She’s staying here with us.”
Chapter 2
Levi
“Damn, Lynlee, you always have that fucking phone in your face smiling at it like an idiot?”
Walking into the living room, I spot Lynlee sitting on the couch, surrounded by her two mutts and smiling like a dumbass fool at her cell. It’s kind of funny. A few years back the girl never had a phone, and Lincoln had to teach her to text. Hell, it’s been a little over six months since she finally got her driver’s license. Lincoln, the ever-patient, loving man, had lost all of his patience with his Lynlee. She refused to get a license, but finally had no choice when Lincoln had to leave for training camp.
“Levi! You’re not supposed to be walking. My god, what’s it going to take to get this through your stubborn skull?”
“Calm your shit, girl. I’m going to sit here, and you’re going to get me coffee and some breakfast.”
“You’re such an asshole,” Lynlee replies with a slight giggle.
Like a good little sister-in-law, she hops up from the couch and makes her way to the kitchen. “Make it black, and just bacon will do.”
“Yes, superstar,” she hollers back.
I catch sight of her grin. I know deep down she loves living here with my brother, and she definitely loves my brother with all she has. Watching her move around effortlessly in my kitc
hen actually makes me proud. This floor design has one benefit, I guess. I never thought I’d see a happy woman floating between the open living room and kitchen. Never say never, I guess.
“Lincoln back in Denver?” I ask.
“Yeah, he left about four a.m. and didn’t want to wake you. He’ll be home on Tuesday.”
I already know the answer, but feel the need to ask. “He happy there?”
“He loves it, Levi. It was so hard on us at first. I mean, you know about all the driver’s license drama and me starting school. It was ugly. I felt like a shit, but didn’t want Lincoln to leave me,” Lynlee explains, as she hands me my breakfast and plops down next to me.
“Well, you could’ve gone with him. Denver is a great place.”
“This is my home, and when I say my home, I mean yours, too.” Lynlee giggles at her own joke and carries on with her reasons. “My hometown. I know all the nooks and corners and learned the ins and outs of the campus Lincoln’s senior year.”
I’ll never understand Lynlee’s complex thought process, not even after hearing the stories Lincoln confided in me while she was recovering in the hospital. It was the longest two months of all our lives. Her condition was touch and go for days on end, and with such limited genetic history, the doctors had very little to go on. When she lost the baby, the doctors couldn’t get the bleeding to stop. Nobody talks about the baby. Not a word.
“I see,” I finally mumble.
“How do you feel, Levi? Neck injuries are serious, and I swear if I see your ass out of that wheelchair, I’m going to kick you in the damn kneecap.”
I can’t respond to Lynlee. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s about the surgery and my not being on the field, or if it’s because it’s someone who genuinely cares about me.