Line of Scrimmage Read Free

sweat.
    He took shallow breaths in and out until the blast of pain had passed. By the time it did, though, his heart pounded and his
     stomach roiled with nausea.
    Downplaying the injury in front of Susie had used up what was left of his energy after he checked himself out of the hospital
     that morning—against medical advice—to fly home from New Orleans on the private plane the team had sent for him. Aware he
     was running out of time to stop a divorce he didn’t want, Ryan had been desperate to get home to Susie. The rest of the team
     had arrived home two days earlier to find their adoring fans waiting for them at the airport. Ryan had been sorry to miss
     the party on the plane and the celebration at the airport, but he’d been through it before—twice, in fact—so he would survive
     missing it this time.
    He had been banged up plenty of times in the twenty years since he started playing football as a sixth grader.
    During his junior year at Florida, he dislocated his elbow—fortunately not his throwing arm—in a game against Florida State.
     The Mavs had been playing the Bears when he tore a ligament in his left knee three years ago. That had hurt like a son of
     a bitch and knocked him out for half a season. But he had never broken a rib, let alone three of them, and on a scale of one
     to ten, the pain of broken ribs was a twelve. His face didn’t feel too great, either, and his head had been throbbing for
     days.
    He wanted to cry when he realized his pain pills were in the duffel bag across the room. He hoped Susie would
    come up to fight with him, so he could cajole her into getting them for him.
    Ryan hated being so helpless, but luckily he bounced back fast from injuries. He already felt a lot better than he had when
     it first happened. He’d had his eyes locked on his friend Bernie in the end zone and hadn’t seen the hulking defensive end
     coming. The ball had just left Ryan’s hand when boom! He saw stars as he lay on the field gasping for air and wracked with pain in his head and chest.
    Eight hours passed in a pain-induced fog before Ryan thought to ask if Bernie had caught the ball. Of course he had, and the
     touchdown added six insurance points to the score. After also learning he had been named Super Bowl MVP—again—he found out
     one of the broken ribs had almost punctured his lung and the hit to his face had given him a concussion.
    Ryan winced when he pictured his less-than-glorious exit from the NFL—on a stretcher of all things. No one knew yet that he
     had played in his last game. He made the decision weeks before the Super Bowl and was waiting to announce it until after the
     team had its moment of celebration. No way would Ryan allow his personal announcement to detract from the attention his teammates
     deserved after their big victory.
    A sneeze startled him, and he was unable to stop it in time. The new blast of pain ripped through him and brought tears to
     his eyes. He had discovered in the last three days that sneezing was the most painful thing in the world when your ribs are
     broken.
    Unfortunately, his allergies had picked this week to act up for the first time in months. Tomorrow he would
    call the team doctor to get a shot for the allergies—anything to stop the sneezing.
    When he managed to catch his breath, Ryan lay still to listen to the voices at the bottom of the stairs.
    “Everything was lovely, Susannah,” Henrietta said, offering her cheek to Susannah.
    Susannah kissed the plump cheek. “Thank you . . .
    Mother.”
    “Let’s talk this week about the final wedding plans,”
    Henrietta added.
    Susannah nodded as she kissed Martin goodbye. They had managed to avoid telling Henry’s parents that her ex-husband was in
     the house.
    “I’ll be out in a minute,” Henry said to his parents, handing the car keys to his father.
    Susannah knew he wanted them gone so he could confront her about Ryan. She wanted to beg them to stay.
    “Take your time, son,”