Eligible Receiver (Men of Fall #3)- S.R. Grey Page 0,52
the Inevitability duology, A Harbour Falls Mystery trilogy, and the Laid Bare series of novellas.
Ms. Grey resides in Pennsylvania. When not writing, she can be found reading, traveling, running, or cheering for her hometown sports teams, sometimes all at the same time.
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Wait!
It’s not over yet.
Read the first chapter of Forward Progress, the first standalone novel in the bestselling Men of Fall series.
Leaving Las Vegas
I hesitate, my pen hovering over the yellow sheet of legal paper on my desk as I contemplate what to write.
What am I doing?
I’m making a list of what I’d like to achieve throughout the second half of this year. But damn, it’s no easy task.
I want to get this done, though. The rehab I went through a couple of years ago made me a big believer in things like setting goals and writing out lists.
My brain is usually racing when I write these kinds of things. I have so much to get down on paper that my pen moves too fast, leaving my sentences a jumbled blur of words I have to decipher later.
Today, however, I’ve got nothing.
Maybe because all my most recent goals have been achieved…and therefore checked off.
Like this one—I wanted to have my own gym business and make it a raging success.
Check, check.
Both of those objectives have been achieved.
And then there’s my ongoing goal of always trying to give back and help others.
Check that off too.
I’m still an active sponsor for Narcotics Anonymous, even if it is only for one guy these days—Las Vegas Wolves hockey player Benjamin Perry.
Still counts, though, right?
Ah, but Perry hardly needs me anymore. He’s doing really well on his own.
In the past, I always had my sister, Chloe, to worry about. She wasn’t in NA or anything, but she had her share of troubles in the relationship department. Seemed I was always swooping in to rescue her.
But she met and married someone great—Dylan Culderway, another hockey player I’m friends with. Chloe now has a calm and happy life. She and Dylan even have a baby on the way.
Fuck, I can’t wait to be an uncle.
I spend a few minutes wondering if their baby will have dark blonde hair and cerulean blue eyes like my sister and I do, or if she’ll have brown eyes and dark hair like Dylan.
Oh hell, I’m just stalling.
“Get to work on that list, Graham,” I mutter to myself to conjure up some motivation. “There has to be at least one important thing you have yet to achieve.”
And there is.
But it’s the one goal I’ve resisted writing down, on this or any prior lists.
Maybe because this goal is the most important of all and putting it down on paper gives it life. That means it’s something I’ll have to achieve.
No excuses.
“Just write it down, dumbass,” I hiss. “Do it. It’s the one thing you’ve wanted more than anything these past three years.”
What is this big goal?
It’s to play professional football again.
Shit, it’s out there now.
I mean, I can’t unthink it.
“But what if I can’t play like I once did?” I whisper, like that would be the worst thing in the world.
Hell, it would.
Other thoughts race through my mind…
What if my once promising football career is really and truly over?
What if I’m washed up?
Do you see now why I’m afraid to write down this goal?
“But you were good.” I touch pen to paper, willing my hand to move. “No, you were fucking great, Graham Tettersaw.”
It’s true, I was. I had a completion percentage in the 65 percent range, and I passed for over 3000 yards every season I played.
I also averaged 30+ touchdowns a year, meaning I was rarely intercepted.
Not to mention, the fans fucking loved me.
I was a god, damn it!
But then I got hurt, and a god I was no more. I was just a man, a man with a blown knee and a crappy attitude. Hence the prescription drug addiction. I just didn’t care.
The team I was playing for at the time—the Arizona Cardinals—cut my ass. Doctors, really good ones, told me I’d never play again.
Down in the dumps about, well, just about everything,