Damaged Petals.

[Captain Canada]

I'm not going to say a single word

[Soapy]

"Sorry ass motherfucker!" Eli screamed at the television screen, bringing the beer bottle to his lip, "Let’s go, baby!"

"You got money on this game?" asked one of his friends among the packed apartment living room, different games on the split screen.

"Nah, it’s just fuck Purdue," he grinned.

what a bitch lmao

Brice watched it happen, numb. He replayed the turnovers, the hesitation, the drive that should’ve ended it. His knees felt weak, his legs heavy

vomit on his jersey already, mom's spaghetti

the turnovers are rough, especially the fumbles. tried to do too much cause nobody else was getting it done for him.

4 turnovers? Brice throwing. Check his DraftKings.

Eli caping behind a woman he’s known for three months? That cookie that good?

You've done worse

Brice is terrible at therapy. WERE JUST TALKING BRO

Connie worried about Eli leaving her, meanwhile he'd throw down with Brice if he walked in the room talking bout its fuck Purdue lmao

Brice needs some help.

Jimmy

RIP in peace

I'm not going to say a single word

you better not. zane gameplay soon come and i will be there no matter what

[Soapy]

Season 4, Episode 11
LaPenna didn’t start with the game.

Brice noticed it right away. He slouched into the chair, hoodie still on, jaw tight, leg bouncing like it had all week. He was ready to unload—the turnovers, drops, protection, the kick—but LaPenna just sat there, notebook closed, eyes steady.

“How’s Jimmy doing?” LaPenna asked.

Brice scoffed through his nose.

"What do you think? His fucking season is over,” he stopped himself, shook his head. "He’s alright, I guess, as soon as you can be with a fucked up knee."

LaPenna nodded, letting the silence stretch just long enough. “You talked to him?”

“Yeah, I’ll probably head down there this week or next to check him out,” Brice leaned back, arms crossing. "We talked this morning and shit, he was more worried about me than him. I guess he ain’t used to seeing me lose that much."

“That frustrates you?”

“No,” Brice said quickly. Then, softer, “Nah. It’s just…that’s how he is.”

LaPenna waited.

“He’ll be fine,” Brice continued. “He’s wired right. He’ll do the rehab, won’t just feel sorry for himself or try to rush back. He’s just so mature for his age so I’m not really worried about him, honestly. The kid is just different."

LaPenna tilted his head slightly. “Different from you?”

Brice smirked despite himself. “Yeah. Probably.”

Another pause. Brice stared at the floor, then went on, unprompted.

“People always act like he’s living in my shadow or whatever. Like he’s just ‘Brice’s little brother.’” He shook his head. “They don’t get it. Jimmy’s gonna be better than me.”

LaPenna raised an eyebrow—not surprised, just curious. “Better how?”

“Everything,” Brice said without hesitation. "Yeah I was bigger but he’s faster than I was at his age. He’s been watching film with me since he could string sentences together so anything I know, he knows too. And he actually listens.” He laughed once, quietly. “Which already puts him ahead of me.”

LaPenna smiled faintly. “You sound proud.”

Brice shrugged. “I am.”

They sat with that for a moment.

“You’ve described him a few times now,” LaPenna said. “Hard worker. Disciplined. Likeable.”

“He is,” Brice said. “Everyone fucks with Jimmy. Coaches, teammates, teachers. He’s harmless.”

LaPenna repeated it gently. “Harmless.”

Brice’s leg slowed, then stopped. “Yeah. I mean—not soft. Just…he doesn’t come with all the extra shit.”

“What’s the extra shit?” LaPenna asked.

Brice laughed, sharp and humorless. “You really gotta ask?”

LaPenna didn’t answer.

Brice exhaled, rubbing his hands together. “I don’t know. The edge. The attitude. The stuff people either love or hate about me.” He looked up. “Everything I have, he has—athletic, competitive, obsessed with winning—without everyone thinking he’s an asshole.”

“And how do you think people see you?” LaPenna asked.

Brice hesitated. That was new.

“Like I’m…a lot,” he said finally. “Like you gotta deal with me to get the results.”

LaPenna nodded. “And Jimmy?”

“You don’t gotta deal with him,” Brice said. “You just like him. What’s there not to like?”

The words hung there longer than Brice seemed to expect. He shifted in his seat, suddenly aware of how much he’d said.

“So yeah,” he added quickly, defensive creeping back in. “He’ll bounce back. He already got his offers locked up and he’ll come back next year, show everyone he’s still that guy."

LaPenna let a small smile show. “You believe that.”

“I do.”

“And you don’t talk about many people that way,” LaPenna said. Not a jab. An observation.

Brice shrugged again, smaller this time. “He’s my brother.”

They sat in quiet for a beat.

When LaPenna finally spoke, his voice was even. “It’s interesting, Brice. The way you describe Jimmy sounds a lot like the version of yourself you respect the most.”

Brice opened his mouth, ready to fire back—then stopped.

He leaned back, eyes narrowing, not angry. Thinking.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Maybe.”

The foul mood was still there, hovering. The loss hadn’t gone anywhere. But it had loosened its grip, just enough.

…

The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and microwave soup.

Jimmy sat propped up against a stack of pillows, his right leg elevated and wrapped so thick it barely looked like a knee anymore. The immobilizer ran from mid-thigh to ankle, straight and unforgiving, a plastic reminder that his body had made a decision without him. The TV murmured in the background, some daytime sports show he wasn’t really watching.

Liz came in first, careful not to bump anything, carrying a tray balanced with practiced precision. Soup, crackers, a protein shake she insisted on even though he hadn’t asked for it.

“Okay,” she said softly, setting it down on the bedside table. “Eat something. Even if it’s just a little.”

“I’m not that hungry,” Jimmy said.

“I know,” she replied, already peeling back the lid. “Eat anyway.”

He didn’t argue. He never really did. He picked up the spoon, blew on it out of habit, and took a few careful bites.

Tom stood near the wall, marker in hand, facing the whiteboard he’d mounted earlier that afternoon. It looked out of place against the neutral hospital paint, already divided into neat columns.

Surgery — Day 0

Rest & Swelling — Weeks 1–2

Range of Motion — Weeks 3–6

Strength — Weeks 7–12

Return to Field (Projected)

Tom underlined the last line twice.

“This isn’t even a setback,” he said, without turning around. “It’s just a detour.”

Jimmy nodded, eyes still on the bowl.

“You remember the summer,” Tom continued.

He capped the marker, finally turning to face his son.

“This is the same thing. Actually—” he corrected himself, tapping the board, “—it’s harder. And you’re gonna attack it harder.”

Liz glanced at Jimmy, watching his face more than his spoon.

“You do the rehab right,” Tom said, voice steady, deliberate, "This isn’t a break, this isn’t a little downtime to feel sorry for yourself and get to let your hair down and all that."

He paused, choosing his words carefully.

“That’s not you.”

Jimmy swallowed, nodded again.

“Season’s over,” Tom added, not sugarcoating it. “That part hurts. I know it does.”

Jimmy’s grip tightened slightly on the spoon, knuckles whitening just a bit.

“But it doesn’t end here,” Tom said. “Not for you.”

The room fell quiet after that. The TV kept talking, oblivious.

Jimmy stared at the whiteboard now, at the clean certainty of the timeline. Weeks. Months. Boxes to check. He hated how final it all felt, how quickly everything he’d worked for had been reduced to dry erase ink.

He thought about that summer, all the work that had been put in. He thought about St. Frances. Football was random, sure, but maybe it doesn’t happen at St. Frances. His throat tightened, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t let it show. That wasn’t who he was. Disappointment was something you carried, not something you handed to other people.

Liz squeezed his shoulder gently. "We’ll be back in a bit, call us if you need anything," she said.

Tom gave him a nod, one that meant more than it said. The door clicked shut behind them. Jimmy exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours.

He reached for the remote with his good leg still stretched out, flipping absently through channels, not landing on anything. Sports felt too close. Everything else felt pointless. The door opened again.

“Move.”

Sophie didn’t wait for permission. She crossed the room, plopped down on the edge of the bed, and snatched the remote straight out of his hand.

“Hey,” Jimmy protested weakly.

“You don’t get to choose right now,” she said, already scrolling. “You’re in recovery. That means bad TV and judgment-free snacks.”

She stopped on Netflix, flicking through options at lightning speed.

“No,” she muttered. “No. Definitely no. Oh—absolutely not.”

Despite himself, Jimmy smiled.

She glanced at him, caught it, and smirked. She settled in beside him, careful of his leg, her shoulder pressing lightly against his arm like it always had.

“This one,” she said, clicking play. “Everyone says it’s stupid. Which means it’s perfect.”

Jimmy leaned his head back against the pillow, the tension in his chest easing just a notch. Maybe this was his world for a while. Ice packs. Rehab bands. Whiteboards and waiting. But Sophie was here. The room was quiet. And for the first time since the injury, it didn’t feel unbearable.

“Hey,” he said softly as the show started.

“Yeah?”

“…Thanks.”

She didn’t look at him. “Shut up and watch.”

[Caesar]

I feel like some Varsity Blues type shit between Brice and Tom concerning Jimmy is percolating.

[Captain Canada]

Nerfing Jimmy like that is heartbreaking, shoulda been... nevermind.

[djp73]

jimmy is giving cooper manning

[Soapy]

I feel like some Varsity Blues type shit between Brice and Tom concerning Jimmy is percolating.

I don't get the reference tbh, don't remember much from that movie

Nerfing Jimmy like that is heartbreaking, shoulda been... nevermind.

wow that's cold

jimmy is giving cooper manning

Tommy Colton (his son) chise loading

[Caesar]

I don't get the reference tbh, don't remember much from that movie

At the end when they all threaten to quit because they were about to shoot up ol boy with them painkillers to send him back out after he fucked his knee.

[Soapy]

I don't get the reference tbh, don't remember much from that movie

At the end when they all threaten to quit because they were about to shoot up ol boy with them painkillers to send him back out after he fucked his knee.

Brice went through that so Jimmy don't go to go through that

family name stamped.

[Soapy]