Page 23 of Broken Play (The O’Ryan Family #1)

TWENTY-THREE

GREYSON

Instead of going straight home, I figure it will be safer to go to Dad's house and have breakfast with my family. I respond to J.D.'s text and tell him where I am. I don't want him breaking into my house and finding Sutton's phone.

When I walk into the kitchen, Dad and Noelle are preparing breakfast. Dad says, "Someone's happy."

"Just feels good to be having Sunday lunch with the family.

Remember how Sunday was always family day?

No games or practices. Just church, food, and family.

" My mind wanders to how I went to college hundreds of miles away, acting like nothing had ever happened, as if my heart hadn't been shredded like Waffle House hash browns.

Tiny pieces of my heart were left, and I had to figure out how to put them all back together. "Why do you think I'm happy ?"

Noelle pipes up. "You're whistling; that's why."

Am I?

Shrugging my shoulders, I try to play it cool, but I can feel a smile tugging at my lips.

"I guess that song got stuck in my head on the way over. "

Dad has never been the one to ask pointed questions; that was Mom's department.

He gives me an omniscient glance, and I know that he sees right through me but doesn't say a word.

Noelle, on the other hand, says, "Did you get lucky last night?

" Clearly, she's not buying my casual act.

She reminds me of my mom—so open and wearing her heart on her sleeve.

"Do we have blueberries?" I ask, attempting to change the subject. I shoot Noelle a look that says, if you want me to keep your secrets, you'd better get on board.

Judging by her smirk, she's still thinking about it. "Nope, it's chocolate and strawberries today. They're both aphrodisiacs, you know."

She pops one in her mouth as Witt finally speaks. "Gross." That's the only word he says.

Birdie sits on the bar stool next to Witt and gives him a fat kiss on the cheek. "How's my favorite brother?" He acts disgusted, but I see the corners of his lips tug upward.

"Hey, I thought I was your favorite," I joke. I mean, I really thought I was, but she loves having a big family. And for the first time, I wonder what it would be like to bring a girlfriend to Sunday breakfast.

"I love you, G, but have you seen your little brother? When school starts this week, he's going to be swatting girls like flies. He's the cutest," Birdie claims, fawning all over my little brother.

J.D. strides in, his feet thudding against the floor. "Okay, that's enough. G, can we talk in the living room?"

"Nope. I'm hungry."

Noelle plays mom. "John David wants to talk to you about your knight-in-shining-armor routine at the game. If a man blew off his football game to come save me, I would... I would fall in love." She's swooning.

I turn to Noelle and gently grip her shoulders, looking straight into her eyes.

My voice comes out soft but adamant. "Noelle, if someone ever hurt you, I would want your boyfriend—or any friend you have—to drop everything and come help you, no matter what.

That's what real friends do. You deserve nothing less; do you hear me? "

She looks up at me with our mom's eyes, and it's hard to stare without feeling the loss all over again. Shaking her head, she simply says, "Yes."

"Do you think Brooks would leave a football game to come to your aid? Because if you don't think he would, then you need to break up with him. Don't waste your time on the wrong person."

J.D. says, "G is right, but this is about more than you leaving the game."

"Just say what you came to say, Coach," I snap, calling him Coach at home instead of by name.

He clears his throat. "After breakfast."

Dad asks, "Has anyone talked to Parker? I talked to him a few days ago, and he's not happy playing hockey. He says he's thinking about walking on to the football team."

J.D.'s eyes go round. "Really? He hasn't played in three years."

"Yeah, I talked to him on the bus on the way to the hotel in New York.

He said their scout team has some openings for safety and special teams. I told him that he's an incredibly talented hockey player and I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize his scholarship.

He said his coach gave him the go-ahead to try out but made it clear that hockey comes first."

A shadow passes over J.D.'s face. Now that he's a head coach, he has an infinitesimal amount of time to spend with his siblings, and as the oldest brother, he's been the main person all of us go to for advice. "Fuck. He called me and I was knee-deep in film," J.D. huffs.

I mumble, "Football isn't everything," and the world stops spinning. All eyes are on me. When I realize I said it aloud, I say, "What? It's not."

J.D. belly laughs. "Since fucking when?"

"When I got traded, okay? I realized that I need to look out for me because no one else is going to."

"I've always looked out for you. Taught you everything I knew. Made you better than me. You can have it all," J.D. says.

"Living and breathing football twenty-four-seven isn't living. I need more... outside of football."

He marches out to the porch and, luckily, it's not humid. Dad tilts his head, gesturing for me to go outside, so I follow.

Dread sets in as I step outside, not sure if I'm ready for this conversation.

The morning air is cool for Texas, and for once, the world feels like it's perfect.

I haven't felt like that since before Mom passed away.

My tennis shoes softly thud against the wood, and I see my brother's shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath.

His arms hang over the railing as I stand next to him.

He twists his head to look at me, and worry is etched on his face. In one expectant stare, I feel his love and the pressure he's under. "I understand that you want more than football, but it can't be Sutton."

"I didn't say it was." Technically, I'm not lying.

"The brother in me is so fucking proud of how you reacted on instinct.

Mom would be proud of you." His voice is lower than before, and he gets choked up.

Tears form in my eyes. "But you do realize that this was on national television and the blogs and the sports shows are already assuming that you and Sutton are. .. involved."

My tone is measured and searching. "J.D., I helped a friend, and if you had seen the display on the Jumbotron, you would have done the same thing. If it had been Rosalie from Human Resources, I would have done the same thing."

"It sucks being your brother and your coach."

I look down at the ground, and emotion catches in my throat. "Actually, I kind of like it."

He scoffs, "No, it sucks because my success depends on you, and it was never supposed to be that way. I'm your big brother; you should be depending on me."

"I won't let you down, Coach."

"It should be me not letting you down, but I feel like I'm between a rock and a hard place. There are at least thirty voicemails all asking about my brother and my boss. What should I say?"

The truth should be simple, but this is too dangerous to my brother and Sutton to have out in the open, and I need to decide how much I'm willing to risk their careers.

Mine will be fine if I perform. But if I tell him and he unknowingly lies to the owner, the team, and the world, it's his reputation on the line.

Too many people know firsthand that J.D.

has always been my best friend in addition to being my brother, and I can't risk it.

J.D. has worked as hard as, or harder than, I have from the time he was eight years old.

"Tell the truth. I defended a woman who deserves more than being pushed around by a spoiled, abusive ex- boyfriend. Just because Bodhi has this squeaky-clean tennis image doesn't mean he's incapable of abuse."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him hang his head, then slowly study my profile. "Has he hit her before?"

"That's Sutton's story to tell, and for anything you say to the public about her, you need to get her permission. But I know she would be okay with you saying I was defending our boss... maybe leave out the other stuff unless she approves."

"I called her, but she hasn't answered."

Inside, I grin. "She's probably tired from being at the hospital with Anna and then from yesterday's events."

He lifts a brow, and I'm pretty sure he knows I'm dancing around, trying to let him know without saying the words. "Well, if you hear from her, tell her I'll be in the office in the afternoon."

"I doubt I will." I won't because I have her phone and can't call her. And I have no idea how to get into the tennis academy, but then Noelle peeks her head out of the French doors and jumps on J.D.'s back, pushing his gut into the railing, which gives me an idea.

Noelle laughs as J.D. grunts. Dad yells, "Breakfast is ready, and, Noelle, isn't Brooks coming?"

Her laugh dies down. "Umm... he had a late night."

A silent understanding passes between J.D. and me. We don't say anything, but we used to be the most sought-after guys in high school and college. We both wore the same excuse—a late night was always code for partying and girls.

Bitterness lies on my tongue at the thought of my sister being cheated on while she sits at home, so I say, "After breakfast, do you want to go see Sutton at the tennis academy? Maybe you could play her. I thought you used to be pretty good, and I'm sure she could use a distraction today."

"Yes, yes." And just like that, she slides off my brother's back and slings her arms around my neck. Brooks doesn't realize how special Noelle is.