Page 16 of Broken Play (The O’Ryan Family #1)

SIXTEEN

SUTTON

"Here. Black, two creams, and two sugars, so it's not really black," Bodhi says with a lopsided smile. "Did the doctor come back?"

Shaking my head, I sip the coffee and let the warm liquid slide down my throat, hoping it will soothe my nerves, knowing it will do the opposite. I've never been a big coffee drinker, but I do indulge on occasion. "Thanks for calling me. I don't know how to repay you."

"Come on, you don't owe me anything. I know she wants you here, and I... I do too." There's an underlying meaning in his words, or at least that's how it sounds to me. "We've been friends forever, and I want that back, Sutton."

My lids feel heavy, and they fall closed.

He sounds like the old Bodhi from when we were coming up in tennis together.

It's the A-side of his personality. I don't want to think about his B-side.

He sits beside me on the small couch in Anna's room, absent of life.

How does anyone heal in a place that has zero warmth?

Visitors aren't allowed in here, but Bodhi worked his magic since Anna's parents live overseas. The nursing staff made an exception when he flashed his brilliant white smile and tossed his hair. The nurses fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

Anna shifts in her bed, moaning with every small movement.

In the middle of the night, a nurse checks her vital signs.

Bodhi, asleep, caresses my leg with his eyes closed, and I scurry to the bathroom, unable to decipher what's happening between us.

Does he think we're like grains of sand and that all the mistakes can just slip through his fingers, forgotten?

I peek out the door, and Bodhi and Anna are still asleep, so I go in search of a vending machine.

Pushing through the big double doors, I find the holy grail of vending.

It has those soft cookies like your grandma would make.

Not mine, of course. I think I've seen my grandparents on both sides only a handful of times.

As I walk around the waiting room, sinking my teeth into the cookie, I stare out of the hospital window at the city.

It's the middle of the night, and half of the lights are on in the buildings, a stark contrast to the darkness on Greyson's deck.

There wasn't anything for miles except for barns and animals.

In Texas, the sky is vast and tranquil. I find myself wanting to be back there.

I check my phone, and notifications from Greyson are stacked on top of each other. I tap them to open.

1:16 a.m.

Greyson: How is Anna?

1:31 a.m.

Greyson: How are you?

1:35 a.m.

Greyson: I'm at The Barrington Hotel if you need me.

1:37 a.m.

Greyson: Hope you're getting some rest.

Greyson's messages glow under the dimmed hospital lights. Each one feels like a soft tug, pulling me back to Texas, to that impossible night on his deck, to the earth-shattering kiss. My cheeks flush, guilt and longing tangling together.

Bodhi feels comfortable, familiar, and safe, but he's become a stranger. His touch makes me wonder if he wants to rewind time, but something in me knows we can't piece together what we shattered.

It's Greyson's voice I hear in my head, asking if I'm okay—not out of duty, but real worry. I clutch my phone, uncertain what I want from life. If it's Greyson, then resigning from my position with the Austin Armadillos is the only way.

But Bodhi did call me about Anna—he wanted to be with us, truly, out of concern.

He went out of his way to pick me up from the airport, and he has stuck by our side, dozing in an uncomfortable hospital chair all night.

That's not something Bodhi's ever had to do.

The future of American men's tennis is used to having the world rearranged around his comfort—penthouses, custom requests, compliments, and a perpetual carafe of fresh watermelon juice waiting, no matter the hour.

I can't ignore that he's here, with us, stripped of all the luxuries and the spotlight, just a tired man who cares about Anna—and maybe about me.

It's almost enough to make me believe he's not just playing the part.

Almost.

Pacing the empty hallways several times, I clear my head and only see a nurse here and there. I push open the door, hoping not to disturb Anna or Bodhi, for that matter, but I'm surprised when I hear Bodhi's voice.

"You scared the hell out of us."

"Who's 'us'? What time is it?" she asks, seemingly agitated.

"Sutty's here. We're your best friends."

Anna forces a laugh. "Right." I peek around the curtain, and she's holding her ribs. "Where's Bethany?" I love the snark in her voice and that she's free to ask the questions I can't.

"We broke up. She's no Sutty."

"You're damn right she's not. You screwed that up."

"I promise those days are over. I would never do anything to hurt her again."

Luckily, the doctor comes in behind me and walks around me. Bodhi's eyes widen, wondering if I overheard his conversation with Anna.

"I won't ask how you two got in here, but Anna, we need to get you into surgery. We had to wait until the test results came back. You have severe internal bleeding in the abdomen and in your thighs. I won't know the extent until I get in."

I can't stand the sight of, or even the mention of, blood, and Bodhi knows it. Sensing my discomfort, he reaches for my hand. His touch is warm and reassuring .

"Any questions?"

Anna looks at me when I ask, "Excuse me, I have a few questions. How long do you expect the surgery to take? Are there risks we should be aware of for this surgery? Are there any alternatives to surgery? Should we get a second opinion? When can she return to playing tennis?"

He has the personality of a gnat. "It's exploratory, so it depends on what I find when I get inside her body."

I cringe and feel my body tighten. The doctor seems to notice, and his saccharine smile pisses me off.

"I need to find all the places where she's bleeding from and either suture them up or seal the blood vessels with a heat probe.

Let's say at least five hours from the time they take her back to prep.

But if it goes longer, that doesn't mean anything bad.

As far as tennis goes, any surgery where we have to cut into the abdomen will take months to heal. " He looks at Anna. "Are you ready?"

She sucks her lips between her teeth and nods. "Will you and Bodhi be here when it's over?"

"I'll be here," I say, squeezing her hand.

"Me too," Bodhi says.

The doctor pushes the button, and the nurses come in to unhook her from all the machines. Suddenly, the room is empty and quiet.

Bodhi says, "Let's go to breakfast."

"I just want to sleep for a few hours in a bed."

"You can sleep in my hotel room. You know there's plenty of room.

" He chuckles, the sound low and genuine, knowing that I've slept in his hotel rooms for much of my adult life.

We used to enter the same tournaments so we could travel together.

Sometimes Anna would be with us, all curled up and swapping stories of our matches and the locker room gossip.

Every bone in my body warns me that this is a bad idea, that nothing good will come from it, but the hospital's sterile environment has me choking on antiseptic.

"I'll order your favorites for breakfast," Bodhi adds.

A real breakfast sounds like heaven after a nap. I cave to the man I've spent so much of my life loving and adoring until I had to get away. "Fine. I get the bed. Your butt is on the couch. No negotiating." I point a finger at him. "Promise."

"Scout's honor. I wouldn't dream of crossing enemy lines." He grins, and a flash of the young boy I grew up with makes an appearance. If he were like this all the time, I probably would never have left.

"Okay."

He pumps his fist. "Good choice. You'll get more rest, and it's close by."

In this moment, I don't care if he has ulterior motives; I'm reeling from Anna's surgery. On the way to the hotel, I listen to a message from her boyfriend, Francisco.

"I'll be there tomorrow. Thank you for flying from Texas to be with her. I know Bodhi is there, too, but...you're her best friend."

It's a reminder for me to keep my head clear, and sleep is what I need. When we get to the hotel room, I tumble onto the bed. Soft pillows cradle my head, and sleep claims me before I even take off my shoes.

Sunlight wakes me. I check the time on my watch and stretch. Two full hours feel good. I stretch again, blink a few times to snap myself out of the haze, roll out of bed, and crash into Bodhi coming from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He freezes, and so do I .

"Hey. I forgot how peaceful you look when you're in a dead sleep," he finally says, a tender warmth in his voice.

Steam floats heavily behind him, and I'm way too aware of his bare shoulders and the water dripping from his hair. I cross my arms over my waist to keep myself from touching him. It would be so easy. "You always used to say that."

"Remember that time the academy took us to the theme park? You fell asleep in the first few minutes after we left. But you held my hand the whole time."

"The old days."

"I think you mean the good old days." He steps closer, touching my arm. "Sutton, I'm not kidding when I say you're all I've thought about. I want you in my life again."

His words hang between us like an intricate tapestry.

There are so many reasons why we didn't work, but part of me believes him.

Growing up together was fun, yet looking back, it was always me making concessions.

I remember asking him, "Jocelyn wants to try a new restaurant.

Do you want to go?" But did we? No. He wanted me all to himself.

Now I realize it was a way of controlling me.

"Bodhi, I can't handle more changes and complications in my life right now. I need to focus on Anna and my new job." I look down and fiddle with the hem of my shirt.

"It'll be easier because it will just be one of us on tour now that you've retired."

"I'm the general manager of a professional football team, and my dad is counting on me."

He shakes his head, uncurls my arms, and takes my hands in his. "I'll wait," he whispers.

"I'm not asking you to do that." Maybe I want him to keep that promise more than I'm willing to admit, but is it because I want him back in my life, or do I want him to wait for revenge's sake?