Page 22 of Broken Play
The Swedish beauty pushes to her feet. "I need to go," she says, deliberately not meeting my gaze. She walks into the kitchen, grabs her purse from the chair, and slings it over her shoulder. "I forgot I have an early meeting tomorrow."
Pissed and frustrated, I scoff, "Well, don't forget your folders." Part of me wants to keep her here and do a deep dive into their relationship. The other part doesn't want more drama in my life.
Pausing at the front door, she lets the words I feared tumble from her mouth. "What happened tonight... it was a mistake." Her tone is steady, masking the way I know she felt in my arms.
I stretch my arm to the top of the door as she walks down the front steps, and I stare at the distance she's putting between us. There are no dramatics when cleat chasers leave after a romp in a hotel. But for the first time, I want one woman who is mentally closing the door onus.
TWELVE
SUTTON
Why did I freeze? It should have been simple.Yes, I'm completely over him.I mean, how hard is that? I say it to myself all the time, manifesting it into existence. I'm tired of the hurt and pain.
I message Anna, knowing she's probably asleep.
Me: Hey, you awake?
Anna: Yeah, I'm in New York for a tourney. What's up?
Me: Greyson and I kissed, and it was even better than the one before.
Anna: Did clothes fly?
Me: No, I'm an idiot. He asked about Bodhi, and I went straight into fight-or-flight mode and barreled out of hishouse.
Anna: Sutty, Bodhi and I have always been your constants. It's understandable to still feel something for him. Do you still love him?
Me: No, but if I hate him, it's like deleting my whole existence. All my memories are soiled.
The little dots bounce up and down until she responds.
Anna: It's natural. Bodhi and I were the people you leaned on, the ones who stayed. Even our coaches changed every couple of years. Just tell him the truth.
Me: Thanks, I just have to find the right time.
Not wantingto run into Greyson, I watched practice from my office for the past two days.
Coach O'Ryan taps on my office door. "Hey. Where have you been?" He steps a few feet inside.
"Working on a trade for a left tackle. We need someone better to protect Greyson's blind side."
J.D.'s eyebrows raise and his forehead creases with worry lines. "Oh. Who are you trying to get? I thought we were going to talk about important decisions and work together."
"Frank Cozen."
"You told Greyson and me that you would talk to us about it."
I snap. "That's what I'm doing now."
His head jerks back. "Okay...well, the team is leaving for Louisville this afternoon. Are you flying with us? If so, we can talk about it then. We should talk to Greyson too. He was under the impression that he would be asked for his opinion."
"Greyson is in charge of executing plays, not making personnel decisions." "And yes, I'll be there, but I'll be flying separately."
He walks out without saying a word. I press the intercom, asking Marlon to get the general manager of the Kings on the line.
"Mr. Faulkner, I don't want to waste your time. So, tell me what it will take to get Frank Cozen."
"No drinks or small talk? You're one of those women," he says with a deep belly laugh that reminds me of the villain in a cartoon movie.
