Page 41 of Broken Play (The O’Ryan Family #1)

FORTY-ONE

GREYSON

After the game, I'm bombarded with images of Sutton and Bodhi in Miami. Two of my teammates say, "You tried, O'Ryan." They're talking about me tearing off the field to save her from his abuse, not knowing we're a couple.

I throw up my arms. "I tried."

My blood boils. My heart aches.

This is why I've stayed away from relationships—it's miserable how one person can inflict so much pain without lifting a hand.

What kills pain? Alcohol.

So what do I do? I stay in Minnesota and get drunk with Devon, who was one of my best friends in Denver.

J.D.: Damn, G, answer your fucking phone.

"Why don't you answer your phone?" Devon asks, strumming his fingers on the table.

"Nobody's more important than the best running back in the league. That's you, buddy," I say, slurring my words .

"You need to change that, bro. Since I got married, my stats are way up. There are several pros to having a woman to love in your bed. You should try it."

"I've been trying it." I pull my phone from my pocket and stare at the two little letters: BL, Boss Lady. "It doesn't matter what I do; she's still in love with her ex."

He sits back in his chair and tilts his head. "Over Greyson O'Ryan? No way, man."

"Yep, she told me she loved me last week, and this week she's cozied up with her ex."

"Well, you need to go whip his fucking ass if she's your girl."

When I shrug, he swipes my phone and says, "Who's BL? It must be her. She says she really needs to talk to you."

"Yeah, to let me down easy over the phone like a coward." I've seen the social media posts showing her and Bodhi, all cozy at the tournament, eating ice cream and standing very close together. How could she look at him after what he's done to her?

She uttered "I love you" not that many days ago, but through my bourbon-shaded eyes, the past is a heavy anchor, so hard to rid myself of completely. Believe me, I feel the albatross around my own neck.