Page 31 of Broken Play
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, nomatter 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, allcurled up and swapping stories of our matches and the locker room gossip.
