GROUNDING 🏈 Nick Bosa

#SIXTY THREE.

A few days later.

I was back at work sitting on the sidelines at the performance center. I was waiting on Greenlaw to finish up with his training so that I could work on him.

Nick suddenly, joins me on the bench. He was breathing heavily and squirting water into his mouth. His body was wet and glistening with sweat. I could smell that familiar smell of masculinity.

"Hey." He says.

I look at him from the corner of my eye. "What are you doing?" I ask, confused that he would even sit next to me considering our situation.

"I was just wondering if you were going to come back to my house today." His voice was shaky, but not from nerves, I think it was mostly from exhaustion.

"I don't know." I reply, he could have brought this up another time and place. I was slightly bothered by him bringing this up at training.

"You don't know?" He turns his head and looks at me, but I refuse to look back at him.

Instead, I was more focused on Greenlaw walking towards us now.

"You play in two days, Nick. Don't you want to be alone?" I ask.

"No, I don't. I really don't." His voice sounded exceedingly, more shaky as he said this.

I herd something in his voice this time. Maybe it wasn't from him being tired, it sounded like he was in some sort of distress. At this point I turn and look at him, I search his face. He seemed off as our eyes locked onto one another's.

"Nick, what's wrong?" I question him, but Greenlaw approaches close enough now to hear our conversation.

So he couldn't respond.

Nick and him pound fists. "What's up man?" Nick asks him.

"What's up my boy." Greenlaw says. "You alright?" He pats the top of Nicks head. "You took a hard hit today."

"Yeah, I'm good. My head just hurts." Nick cranks his neck a bit to the side and then stares down at the grass on the field.

"Did you hit your head?" I ask him, trying not to sound overly concerned, but I definitely was.

"A little." He answers.

"—A little?" Greenlaw laughs. "Boy that was a nasty head-butt. Coach says you should go in, you probably got a concussion."

"Nah, I'm good." Nick responds, while running a hand through his wet, curly hair.

I didn't watch the earlier part of practice, but I was really worried about Nick now.

"Come into the office with me, please?" I ask him.

"I'm fine." He says. "Just think about what I said." He adds, standing up from the bench and putting back on his helmet.

"You're going back out?" I look at him with an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

"Yeah, I got a couple more hours to go." He replies.