Free More Than a Touch (Snowberry Creek #2) by Alexis Morgan Page B

down on the pedal, wincing when his muscles protested a bit at being stretched beyond their comfort zone. After a few repetitions, though, it became easier and he picked up some speed.
    “Slow it down, Leif.”
    He should’ve known Isaac would be keeping an eye on him. The man must be attuned to the whir of the bike, because right now he had his back to him. Evidently that other guy had finally decided to cooperate. Good for him.
    Leif pulled his MP3 player out of his pocket and lost himself in his music for a while. It gave him something else to think about while he kept spinning the bike pedals. Slow, fast, it didn’t matter. Regardless of the speed, he wasn’t getting anywhere fast, and if that wasn’t a metaphor for his life right now, he didn’t know what was.
    •   •   •
    Mitch knew he was being a total jackass, but he couldn’t seem to help himself these days. For sure he owed Isaac an apology. He was lucky the big man hadn’t flattened him for a few of the things he’d said.
    Luckily, the two of them went way back together, so hopefully the man would cut Mitch some slack. He automatically fell into the same rhythm on his stationary bike as the guy next to him. Isaac had referred to him as Corporal something or another. At the time, Mitch had been too pissed about his own situation to pay much attention to anyone else.
    He risked a quick peek at the soldier’s left leg and winced. Damn, the poor bastard’s lower calf looked as if someone had carved a road map in it using scar tissue. That had to have hurt.
    At least the new scars on his own right knee were tidier. The surgeons had told him he was damn lucky they managed to repair the damage this time. One more hit like that last one and he could be looking at a total knee replacement.
    Where was the luck in that? Sure, he didn’t want to be walking around with a hunk of metal where he used to have bone. But either way, the surgery had shoved Mitch down a road he didn’t want to travel. Not yet, anyway. He could have done his rehab with the team’s trainers, but they had their hands full with the guys who had a better chance of returning to the playing field this season.
    Besides, there was nothing Mitch hated worse than the pity he saw reflected in the eyes of his teammates. There’d usually been a glint of fear mixed in with it, too. No doubt his potentially career-ending injury served as a vivid reminder of how tenuous their highly paid jobs were. One wrong move, and the money and all the bells and whistles that went along with the job description were gone for good.
    So instead of being on a jet flying to the next away game, Mitch was back in his hometown licking his wounds and wondering what to do next.
    The timer on the soldier’s bike pinged, jarring Mitch out of his one-man pity party. He watched as the man eased himself off the bike, grabbing a cane to support himself. Isaac saw him moving around and yelled across the room, “Hang tight, Leif. I’ll be right there.”
    Leif froze, but he clearly wasn’t happy about it. Mitch surprised himself by trying to distract the guy. “So what happened? Motorcycle accident in the rain?”
    A pair of rock-hard brown eyes glared straight at Mitch briefly before looking away. “No. An IED in Afghanistan.”
    The answer was delivered in a monotone as if the guy had somehow distanced himself from the incident. The expression in his gaze was equally as flat. Clearly no further questions on the subject would be appreciated.
    Instead, he asked, “And you?”
    Mitch automatically reached down to rub his knee, remembering the sound of the bone crunching and the waves of pain that had left him writhing on the ground on national television. “Linebacker tackled me, and I landed with my knee twisted in a direction nature never meant it to bend.”
    Instead of looking sympathetic, the soldier’s face immediately lit up. “Damn, no wonder you looked familiar. You’re Mitch Calder! I love watching you