City of Champions (8 page)

That was the night Wyatt made a deal with devil. If Jim McCoy promised not to fight a divorce and stay away from them forever, then Wyatt would ensure they didn't tarnish his legacy by letting the world know what scum he really was.

Jim McCoy jumped at the chance without hesitation. All that mattered to him was that he would forever be a legend — one of the best quarterbacks of all time. To the wife and kids he'd left behind in Texas, he was just a selfish idiot. The man more interested in partying all night with nameless women than making sure his flesh and blood were safe.

Claudia could've really used a father, or a grandfather, when the diagnosis of juvenile diabetes came back. Instead, Wyatt became the man of the family the night his grandfather died. That meant that Claudia, his mother, and his abuela only had him, and Wyatt took that role very seriously. He swore to himself he would always be there for them. They needed him, and unlike some other McCoy men, that meant something to him.

Wyatt cursed as his throat tightened around the memories. Making his way to his car, he dialed his sister's number.

He breathed out slowly at hearing her voice answer on the other end of the line. It was freezing, but his temper was running hot enough to keep him warm in a blizzard.

"Hi, Wyatt," she answered breezily, as if she hadn't a care in the world.

"Claudia? Nicole texted me about you. What happened? What are you eating? Have you checked your blood sugar today?"

"Well, hello to you, too, Wy.
How are you, sis? What's up?
Oh, not much, sweet brother of mine, just studying.
Good for you, sis, great talk,
" she responded, doing her best impression of Wyatt's voice for his parts in her play-acted conversation.

"Stop being a smart-ass, Claudia."

"Hmm, that's going to be hard, being that 'smart-ass' is my native tongue," Claudia answered quickly.

"Then stop changing the subject, at least," he said, trying not to smile, but damned if she hadn't been able to lighten his mood ever since she was a tiny baby in his young arms. "Give me a break here, okay? You know this is the busiest part of the season for me, so I can't look after you as well as I’d like right now."

Wyatt winced as he threw his bag from his shoulder into the backseat, right before his stomach knotted at his own frustrated denial of the pain.

"You don't have to look after me, Wy, I'm a grown woman."

"You're twenty-two — that means you're still just a baby and you keep refusing to pay attention to your health…"

"Fine, jeez, lay off already, Wy. It's nothing, really. Nicole has a crush on you and knows you'll only answer her texts if she gets you all worked up about me."

"Come on, Claudia, why'd you go to the doctor?"

"Fucking Nicole. I told her specifically not to tell you that," Claudia cursed under her breath.

"You'd better not be hiding shit like this from me. Damn straight, Nicole was right to tell me." His voice was almost reaching shouting level, echoing in the car around him.

"Chill out, Wyatt, seriously. Fine, I had a big project to finish for my computer engineering major and I just pushed myself a little too hard and got hypoglycemic."

"What about your insulin pump? Isn't it working?"

"It's working. They looked at it while I was with the doc. I'm fine, I just got a little light-headed in front of Nicole and it scared her."

"A little light-headed?"

"Okay, I fainted. I'd forgotten to eat and my blood sugar was out of whack, but it's all under control now."

"Fuck, Claudia!"

"It's okay, the doctor said it's common with type 1 diabetes when your stress level increases to have some adjusting…"

"Screw that stupid doctor, I want you to see another specialist. Come up here for a couple of days. I've found one of the leading endocrinologists in the country, and he's right here in Pittsburgh…"

"No! Stop it, Wyatt. You need to listen to me, okay."

"I'm listening, but all I hear is someone that can't, or won't, take care of herself."

"I'm not even going to dignify that bullshit, Wyatt. I'm an adult whether you like it or not, and I can't miss any more classes," she answered, almost yelling now herself. He could hear her pause and take a deep breath before going on, "Besides, you need to focus on your playing. I saw your game against Denver a couple days ago, you need to get your own shit together."

"Aren't you a sweetheart?"

"I know, thank you, it's a gift," she teased, clearly trying to lighten the mood, and Wyatt tried to force himself to let her. She was so stubborn and ever since she went to college, it was getting even harder to make sure she was okay.

"I'll see if I can get a specialist to see you down there. I wish you attended a school in a city somewhere closer to me."

"I know, Wy, just focus on practicing, and I'll focus on school. Graduating a semester early has its perks — school will end soon and then there will be no more fretting over me every second that I'm at college."

"Yeah, right, don't try to bullshit me, Claudia. Then you'll go to Quantico for FBI training and you'll push yourself even harder. I wish you would take it easy and just graduate in four years like everyone else."

"I'm not like everyone else Wy. It's bad enough I had to redo first grade after I got so sick. I started life out behind, but I won't stay there forever.

"It's like you're deliberately trying to worry me."

"I don't need to make any effort to do that — you'll manage to get yourself all worked up perfectly fine on your own. Speaking of, is everything okay, Wy? You seem even more annoyingly up my butt than usual," she asked with concern in her voice.

"I'm heading to a meeting with the GM of the team."

"What about?"

"They want to get on my ass about something. I'm pretty sure it's about the latest exam the team physician did of my shoulder."

"The rehab isn't helping?" Claudia asked.

"I think it is. And I've been managing the pain with painkillers. I'm going to try a cortisone shot to my shoulder before the next game, but I did take a lot of hits last week."

"I'll say. The season isn't over, maybe you can still show them you can get better."

"That's my plan. Enough about that shit. Do you have enough money?"

"Yes I do, thank you."

"And you're sure you really want to go to the FBI so soon?"

"It's a huge honor, Wy. Everything will be okay, I promise. And after interning at the Washington headquarters, I think I have a real shot of getting placed there."

"You're going to have to take better care of yourself, though."

"I know. I promise I'll be more careful. I love you, okay?"

"I love you, too. Bye."

"Bye," she answered, and as soon as she hung up, Wyatt felt even more convinced he had to do everything in his power to keep weaving links in his family's safety net. One of the only things he'd ever gotten from Jim McCoy was an ability to make money as a quarterback, and that had to sustain them for a lot longer than just these few paltry years.

"Hello, Coach McGill. How are you?" Wyatt asked in greeting to his head coach as he caught sight of him in the hallway on the way to his meeting.

"Hey, Wyatt. I guess you heard that John and Tom want to talk to you?"

"I did. You aren't going to be there?" Wyatt asked with confusion in his voice. A meeting with the General Manager and Assistant GM was concerning enough on its own, but to know that his own coach wouldn't be there made it downright dismal.

"No, I'm not gonna be at this one, but they know how I feel, Wyatt. And you do, too."

"Coach…" Wyatt began, not quite sure what he would say next, but his coach placed a hand on his shoulder, effectively silencing him.

"Wy, I still believe in you and your potential, you know that. But I can't control what the doctors say about your health or what you do about your own attitude. You know this game isn't just about what happens between the hash marks, it's about what happens in here," he said seriously, poking Wyatt hard in the chest where his heart should be. "It's about what you feel about the game and your team — inside of
you
."

If only it were that simple
, Wyatt thought to himself.

"Thanks, Coach. I want to do whatever I can to help the Roughnecks succeed," he responded numbly, yet again saying the words he knew the world expected to hear, even though he wasn't sure what he actually felt in his own heart.

"Then don't be your own worst enemy, boy. You gotta play the game off the field, too, sometimes. Look, I knew your dad better than anyone — the real story most people didn't know, not just his talent. But this is your life, you can't let him be a part of it."

"All I know is that I need to stay on the field, Coach," he answered, and it was the truth.

"Wy, this season isn't over yet. You still have time to show us what you can do — show me that you have what it takes in here, to really succeed out there," Coach stated, with another poke to Wyatt's chest, followed by a jerk of his thumb to gesture out the window to the practice field.

Wyatt nodded, and thanked him before walking on to his meeting, his teeth gritted in his mouth. When Wyatt was younger, his skills had been enough to make up for his workman-like attitude about the game. Yet now, it seemed like all these other X factors were becoming much more important, just as his shoulder was causing him so much trouble on the field.

If Wyatt could somehow make himself feel passionate about this game that had always been merely a job to him — a means to an end — then maybe he wouldn't need to have meetings like this. But that had never been the case for him, and it didn't look like anything would change about that now.

He'd managed to keep his brain mostly free of abuse and had a fair amount of endorsement deals to start building that empire he so coveted. But he couldn't do any of those things without a starting position on a viable team.

It certainly wouldn't help if his story turned into a cautionary tale of yet another first-round draft pick bust. Wyatt could not let that happen. He needed to get through this shoulder issue and get back on top, so he could take control of his life — and career — again. Theoretically, he had several more years left to play, but a sustainable legacy didn't come from being just a journeyman, hopping from team to team or never making it far in the play-offs.

Wyatt needed to stay on the field and get some traction in at least one city before he hung up his cleats forever. One sore shoulder and a handful of annoying team executives weren't going to stand in the way of that plan — not if he could help it.

His mind cleared the moment he came upon his agent waiting outside the GM's office.

"Gabe, it's good to see you, but you didn't have to come all the way here just for this meeting."

"I'm pretty sure I did, actually. They're really worried about your latest physical. Come on, let's head in and get this over with."

They sat down across from John Davison, the GM, and Tom Wilkins, the Assistant GM, and it felt like being called into the principal's office.

"Thanks for meeting with us. I'll get to the point, Wyatt. The club physician is disappointed in your progress. That shoulder is a big problem. And that Denver game on Monday really did a number on you. He thinks you're going to need surgery after the season is over." John looked at Wyatt, waiting for an answer.

"It felt like that to me, too, but I've been working hard on my rehab. I think it's helping a lot," Wyatt answered evenly.

"The club doc is great," Gabe added, quickly chiming in. "But the collective bargaining agreement lets us get a second opinion, John, you know that."

"I do. We have a recommended list of orthopedic surgeons that we've used before. You can see their names and bios here. Any of these individuals would certainly be qualified to perform the second opinion consultation the CBA allows."

Wyatt took a folder from John and flipped through it silently, his jaw twitching slightly in agitation. It was full of older male surgeons, each with impressive levels of expertise, but it was the image of one young, and very sexy, doctor that jumped out at him.

Dr. Jenna Sutherland caught his eye for more than just her looks. He recognized the blonde beauty from the VIP group immediately. She'd turned him down flat — much to J.J.'s delight, as he'd been tormenting Wyatt about it ever since. But Wyatt knew she was drawn to him, just like he was to her. He felt sure of it...

He needed someone he could sway and influence. Despite her cocky insistence that she wasn't interested in him, he could tell she was attracted. If his life to date had proven anything to Wyatt, it was that he could get women to do what he wanted, especially if they were easily manipulated by his charm. It wasn't something he was proud of, that was for sure. Also, the idea of taking advantage of someone just to better his career made him feel all kinds of shitty, but he had to do everything in his power to get out of this situation.

Besides, Wyatt wasn't sure she was that innocent in all of this, anyway. It irked him that a team-approved orthopedic surgeon was watching him play. She even knew he had an issue with his shoulder. That fact had been kept completely secret. If the team was trying to have her gauge his health from a luxury box, then he was sure as hell going to make her get a more complete impression of how well he was actually doing.