Chapter Four
He was sweaty and sore, and he could taste blood. He’d been tackled hard from behind, taken down by three of what he thought were the heaviest guys on the team. It was overkill. They had piled on him, and he heard something in his back c***k as he moved his now stiffening shoulder. He knew he needed a rubdown to work all the kinks out. The blood in his mouth must have come from the last of the four poundings he’d taken—even though this was just practice and he’d had his mouth guard firmly in place. Evidently, this was his “welcome to the team” initiation.
“Good practice there, Wilde. Way to hold you own out there.” Dorcel, the quarterback, caught up to him on the way to the locker room. His jet-black hair was damp and stuck to his head.
“Thanks, I guess.” All he knew about
