Fourth Down Read online

  Fourth Down

  Kirsten DeMuzio

  Copyright © 2013 by Kirsten DeMuzio

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

  Published by

  Kirsten DeMuzio

  9054 Tabernash Drive

  Columbus, Ohio 43240

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover design by Kirsten DeMuzio

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  About the Author

  Excerpt from Just One Reason

  Prologue

  Ford

  January 3, 2009

  In those few quick seconds before I shouted the cadence, I cleared my mind of all the other shit in my life.

  It didn’t matter that Grady, my best friend from back home, was currently sitting in a holding cell for drunken disorderly after tailgating too hard before my game. It didn’t matter that my other two best friends from home, Josh and Leah, weren’t there because they were trying to bail Grady’s sorry ass out of jail.

  It didn’t matter that my mom wasn’t there cheering me on in the last and biggest game of my college football career because her cancer had returned and her chemo treatments made it too hard for her to travel.

  That especially didn’t matter right then. At least that’s what I tried to convince myself. None of that shit could matter at that moment. For the next twenty five seconds, give or take, the only thing that mattered was getting this ball down the field.

  My ability to block out the glaring lights and the deafening screams from the stands of a stadium that easily held over 100,000 people had always been my greatest strength. When I jogged to the center of the field, I allowed the cheers of the spectators to wash over me and through me, fueling the adrenaline. But when I got into position, rubbing my hands together, my vision tunneled in on just the field stretching out before me.

  “4-3, 4-3, Blue 25, Blue 25, hut, HUT, hut!”

  McCauley, my center, snapped the ball perfectly, and it landed dead center in my waiting hands. The play I called was a long throw down field, and I had three wide receivers hauling ass to get on target. But the defense was good, and my receivers weren’t going to make it where I needed them to be in time. I was going to have to improvise.

  Swinging my eyes to the left I saw a small window cleared by my offensive line. If I hesitated for two seconds, the window would have closed and I would have most likely been sacked or forced to throw the ball away. We were nearing the end of the fourth quarter and down one score. I had to gain some yardage on this play or we were in serious trouble. It was third and ten, and if we didn't get the first down now, we would be faced with a fourth down decision. Punt or go for it.

  Taking off, I raced to the left and dodged around one of my offensive linemen before cutting back to the right. I’d already gained six yards, which was enough for that play. But the first down mark was only four more yards, and I thought I could make it. I knew Coach would be pissed at me for not sliding and protecting myself, but this game was too important. There was no way in hell I was not going for this.

  Immediately after I crossed the 43 yard line, signaling I made the first down, I was hit on my right side. Hard. Harder than I had ever been hit before.

  I was on the ground before I even knew what was happening, and at least four huge guys were piled on top of me. It’s not like I’d never been hit before. Shit, I was used to being hit every fucking day. But even before the pain registered, I knew this was not like any other hit I had experienced. Because above the roars of the crowd, and above the shouts on the field, I heard the snap. Maybe I just felt it, but I could swear that I heard my bone breaking.

  When the pile cleared, I ripped off my helmet, but I was unable to get up. Now that a few seconds had passed and I didn’t have a thousand pounds of football players on top of me, the pain in my leg was registering. Holy fuck!

  My ears were picking up the sounds of the stadium again, but the crowd was eerily quiet except for someone screaming. I realized it was me screaming in agony, and I tried to stop. But I couldn’t stop. The pain was absolutely unbearable.

  My teammates were surrounding me, and each of them had the same horrified expression on their faces. A couple of them even had to turn away. Raising my head slightly I tried to see what they were seeing. My right leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, and there was blood everywhere.

  Why was there blood? And what was that sticking out of where my knee should have been?

  Oh, God. That’s my bone. That was the last coherent thought I had before everything went black.

  *****

  Waking up God knows how much later in a hospital bed with my entire right leg wrapped and elevated, I knew that I had played my last football game. I didn’t need the doctor to come in and tell me the slim odds of a full recovery. I didn’t need to hear that months of physical therapy might return me full use of my leg. I didn’t need to hear any of that shit, because I knew. I felt it deep in my bones, my broken bones, that my football career was over. Not able to face it yet, I pushed the handy button that pumped more pain meds through my IV and drifted back into the darkness.

  *****

  “Grady! Shut the hell up! You’re going to wake him up,” Leah whispered harshly.

  If my eyes were open I would have rolled them. It wasn’t Grady that woke me up; it was Leah’s bitching. At least I knew they had been successful in bailing out Grady.

  Groaning, I cracked one eye open and immediately regretted it. Every single light in the room was on, and my head was already pounding. I reached out one hand and felt around for the pain pump.

  “I’ve got it, Ford,” Leah said, pressing the button for me. With a worried expression on her face, she sat gingerly on the edge of my bed and took my hand in both of hers.

  “Jesus, Leah, I’m not dying,” I croaked and pulled my hand away.

  Instead of being offended, Leah just rolled her eyes and stood back up. She couldn’t have been more than a hundred pounds soaking wet, but Leah had always had more attitude than the three of us guys combined. Grady, Josh and I had been friends since we were little kids. Leah unofficially joined our group when she started dating Josh a few years ago. They made it official when they got married last year.

  Josh was leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed over
his chest. He looked like he was standing guard over Grady, who was sprawled out in the chair in the corner. I had been away at college the last four years, and Josh and Grady stayed in Penn Yan to work at Grady’s dad’s boat shop.

  While Josh had settled happily into his work and his marriage to Leah, Grady was another story. Apparently the summer after my freshman year he met a girl. I stayed on campus every summer, so I wasn’t around for the epic fall of Grady Hawke or his subsequent meltdown when she dumped his ass. The four of us hadn’t spent more than a few days together at a time in the last several years, but they were still the closest friends I would ever have.

  There wasn’t a window in my room, so I had no idea if it was night or day or how much time had passed since I had been taken away from the game.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “It’s 10:00 o’clock,” Josh replied. “In the morning.”

  Holy shit. It had been over twelve hours.

  “What happened?”

  Leah began to give me a rundown of what the doctors had done. “They temporarily set your leg, and you have a concussion…”

  But I cut her off. “Not with my leg. The game. What happened with the game? Did we win?”

  Grady lifted his head off the back of the chair and slurred, “Yeah, man. It was awesome. You guys beat their asses.”

  Apparently a little time in the slammer didn’t do much to sober him up. Either that or he had been drinking again since he got out. The latter was the likely option given the way Grady had been living his life the last few years.

  Leah turned to give him a death stare, and Josh shoved Grady’s head back against the head rest of the chair. Grateful the rest of my team had pulled out a win, I dropped my own head back to the pillow and closed my eyes. That didn’t last long.

  “Ford, your mom is frantic to talk to you,” Leah said, shoving the already dialed phoned to my ear. Jesus, the last thing I wanted to do was talk to my mom.

  My dad had left us when I was seven, and my mom had raised me alone ever since. Right after my dad left she signed me up for a flag football league to keep me out of trouble while she was working. She’d worked two jobs so I could play football.

  I never stopped playing. Busting my ass to get a scholarship to LSU was as much for her as it was for me. It was a stepping stone to a professional career in the NFL. I would be able to take care of my mom for once. The only thing that kept me going when she told me her cancer had returned was knowing that in a few short months I would be drafted. I could afford the best medical treatment for her, and she could finally beat the cancer that had plagued her for five years.

  Now I had to talk to my mom and tell her that I had failed her. I took the phone from Leah just as my mom answered on the first ring.

  “Ford! Honey, how are you?” My mom asked, and I could hear the worry in her voice.

  “I’m okay, mom. I just woke up so I haven’t talked to the doctor yet.”

  “I want to fly down and be there with you…”

  I interrupted her, “No, mom. I’ll be okay. I’m sure I’ll be out of here soon. Don’t do anything yet. I’ll call you later when I know more, okay?”

  I was able to convince my mom to stay home, and I wished I could convince myself as easily that everything would be okay.

  The rest of the day served only to drive me deeper inside myself. My doctor came in to explain the surgery I would be having the following morning to repair the bones in my leg. Most of it was over my head, but I did catch that there would be various pins and screws holding my leg together. After the surgery I would be in the hospital for another week while I worked with a physical therapist to develop a recovery plan. It would be six more weeks before I could bear weight on my leg.

  The doctor hesitated before saying it was unlikely I would ever be able to play football at the high level I had been. He volunteered that information; I hadn’t even bothered to ask.

  By late afternoon I had convinced Leah, Josh and Grady to leave so they could catch their late flight home. They all wanted to stay to see me through surgery, but I just wanted to be alone. It was my actions alone that put me here, and I didn’t want to hear the forced optimism in their voices. Although it was a serious injury, the surgery itself was fairly routine. That was enough to convince them to go home.

  Soon after they left, my team came to visit, also on their way to catch their flight home. To say it was an awkward visit was an understatement. Nobody knew what to say to me, and they seemed to be afraid to talk about the game. I didn’t have it in me to put them at ease, so after twenty minutes of crickets chirping, Coach sent them all out. He stayed behind and pulled up a chair next to my bed.

  “I talked to the doctor, Ford. I know you’re facing a tough road ahead. I want you to know that I’ll be here for you. The guys are heading home tonight, but I’m going to stay here until you’re released to go home.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Coach. I’ll be fine,” I replied woodenly. In just one day I had become an expert at saying I would be fine. Too bad I didn’t believe it for a second.

  “I understand that you might want to face this alone, but I’m still going to be here - in the waiting room at least, if you don’t want me with you. You’re one of my players. You are my responsibility.”

  Coach was the closest I’d ever had to a father figure, and I knew he would be there for me. But there was an emptiness spreading through my chest, and it prevented me from reaching out to anyone. It had been less than twenty four hours since my world had collapsed on top of me, and I just wanted to be alone. To wallow, to rage, to grieve.

  It wasn’t just my future I had lost; I had let my mom down. She would adamantly disagree, but it wouldn’t change the regret I would always feel. The moment when I decided to keep running instead of sliding and ending the play would replay over and over in my mind.

  The surgery went as expected, and I minimally cooperated with the physical therapist. In the week that I spent in the hospital I didn’t turn on the TV, I didn’t take any phone calls, and I didn’t let Coach in to see me again. My life as a quarterback was over, and it was just too painful to remember what could’ve been.

  My scholarship would extend through the spring semester, but what was the point in going back? My major in sports management was chosen without much thought. I had been counting on playing football professionally, not using my college degree.

  So when I was released from the hospital, I dropped out of school and went home to Penn Yan, New York. As soon as I was able to get out of the wheelchair and walk without crutches, I started tending bar at The Last Call. It kept me busy and helped my mom pay the bills.

  Life went on around me - my mom continued to fight her cancer, Grady got his shit somewhat together and threw himself into his work, Leah and Josh made plans to start a family. As for me, the emptiness remained. I was perpetually stuck in that moment when my leg was broken and my dreams along with it.

  Chapter One

  Poppy

  Angela slid the file containing the information of my new assignment across her desk to me.

  “Now, Poppy, are you sure you want to continue with the terminally ill patients?” She asked me kindly.

  For the last two years, I had been working as a home health aide. Not a nurse, but someone certified in CPR and first aid as well as state certified as a nursing assistant. Along with my other part time job as a yoga teacher, it was how I paid my rent and put myself through college. This job was also a stepping stone in my plan to become a doctor.

  My last four assignments had been with patients at the end of their terminal illnesses. Essentially Angela was asking me if I wanted to continue to watch my patients die. It was always hard to say goodbye, but it was something I felt I needed to do. There weren’t many aides who would take on these patients because of the emotional toll - on the patient, the family and the aide.

  “I’m sure.”

  Angela nodded once and leaned back in her chair.


  “All right. Your shifts will start tomorrow afternoon and run Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday from 2:00 pm to midnight. Will that work with your school schedule this semester?”

  Mentally running through my classes at school as well as my yoga classes at the community center, I said, “That’ll be fine. I have all morning classes this semester, and yoga is just on the weekends.”

  Angela motioned to the information sheet on the patient and gave me a quick rundown of the situation. Unfortunately her cancer had stopped responding to treatment, and I would likely only be on this assignment for a few months before she passed away.

  Often the most difficult part was dealing with the family of the patient. Usually the patients had accepted their diagnosis by the time they required a home health aide, but the family members were the ones who stayed in a state of denial for much longer. Sometimes right up until the end. That is probably the reason I continue to take these assignments.

  When I was ten years old my father died of lung cancer. It wasn’t until after he was gone that I realized what had happened. During the entire time he was sick, for eight long months, my mother repeatedly reassured me that he was going to get better. I never got the chance to say goodbye. Ten years later I still wished I had been able to tell him how much I loved him, to know what was coming and be able to prepare for it.

  “Poppy?” Angela’s voice brought me back to the present. “You will let me know if this gets to be too much for you, won’t you? I have plenty of easy cases I can switch you to.”

  “No, I’m fine. Thanks, Angela.”

  Helping other families go through this difficult transition somehow made my own loss a little easier to take. Taking the patient’s information sheet and address, I headed home for a long evening of homework.

  My phone rang for about the twentieth time today, and I was seriously tempted to hit Ignore again. Dropping my bookbag on the floor just inside the door, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and answered it. Now that I was home from work and class, I didn’t have a good excuse to avoid my mom’s calls. I loved my mom, but the only possible reasons she would be calling me with such urgency were either to line me up to babysit my brothers or to talk about plans for Thanksgiving. Neither of those topics sounded appealing to me, but I couldn’t avoid her forever.