The First Time Again: The Braddock Brotherhood, Book 3 Read Online Free

his inhibitions so he could relax and pretend to be himself, he had no idea how to proceed.
    He’d never had a problem giving up drinking during training or during the season. He’d been in control, never thought of himself as addicted. But after the first knee surgery, when he’d been afraid he’d never play again, he’d been all too ready to make himself oblivious of that frightening reality.
    The fact that he’d come back after the first surgery, had played decently for most of that season, was, in his mind at least, a minor miracle. But he’d gotten sacked in the last quarter of the last game. If they’d won, the Jacks would have been in the division play-offs. Instead, he’d been escorted off the field on a stretcher, forcing himself to hold back the howls of pain until he made it to the ambulance.
    The Jacks lost. He never played again. He had another surgery. Complications set in. Physical therapy had been excruciating. His patience and his temper wore thin. Doctors didn’t think twice about writing prescriptions for him, and there were enough of them who didn’t know what medications he’d already been prescribed by one of their colleagues.
    Before he knew it, he was hooked. He quickly discovered that washing painkillers down with Jack Daniels added to their effect. Pretty soon he wasn’t feeling anything. Not the depression over the fact that his pro football career was over. Not resentment of Hayley when she tried to intervene, to get him some help. Not any feeling at all for the parade of women he screwed and dumped.
    Until he got where he needed to be, he wasn’t about to start up with women again, not even one woman. Not when what he’d probably do is screw up again, hurt her without meaning to.
    The waitress set down glasses of juice and of ice water. “Anything look good?”
    Another come-on. Trey didn’t look up from the menu. “I’ll have the Mountain Man Special,” he told her. “Eggs over medium. Bacon.” He chanced a glance up at her. “Can I get biscuits and gravy instead of toast?”
    “Sure thing. You want grits too?”
    “That’d be great, thanks.” He closed the menu and set it at the edge of the table, aware of her lingering next to him longer than it took her to write down his order.
    He pulled the newspaper toward him and finally she took herself off.
    He doctored the coffee and took a sip. It wasn’t Arabian Mocha Sunani, but neither was it expired discount store decaf.
    He opened the paper and leafed through it quickly, checking the ads for local professionals. On page six he found two ads for attorneys. One of the names caught his attention. Ryan T. Reagle. As kids they’d called him Reagle Beagle. Trey smiled to see Ryan was still using that nickname. Ryan T. Reagle. Legal Beagle.
    That’s who I need, Trey decided. He remembered Ryan as a serious kid, a good student. He’d desperately wanted to play sports. He’d tried them all. Unfortunately poor eyesight coupled with a complete lack of coordination and limbs that grew so fast he couldn’t keep up with them prevented that.
    In high school, if Trey recalled correctly, Ryan had found the track team. His long legs and thin frame were built for jumping hurdles and running marathons. He bet if he looked in his yearbook he’d find Ryan had lettered in track all four years.
    Trey made note of the address near the courthouse a few blocks away. He’d stop in after breakfast and see if Ryan was available.
    Must be my lucky day, he thought as he pulled out a special health care section. He leafed through it and found the physical therapists as well as the other kinds of therapist listed by specialty. He didn’t recognize any of their names, and he’d much prefer to see someone who had no connection to him at all.
    “Here you go, sugar.” Trey set the paper aside as the waitress set plates before him. “Want me to warm that up for you?”
    Trey flickered a glance her way and said, “Sure.”
    She refilled his coffee