Page 34 of Broken Play
Me: Call if you need to talk.
When I get back to Austin, Frank is waiting at my house.He'll be staying here for a few days while he looks for a house, so my dad came over and let him in. "Hey, man, making yourself at home?"
"Yeah, just watchingThe Voice." He stands, and I swing my overnight bag onto the chair and see that he's eaten almost an entire pan of lasagna.
I walk over to him, and he gives me a hug. "Good to see ya, man. How's Lucy and the kids?"
"Good. They're coming once I find a place to rent, but Lucy is demanding video walkthroughs. The kids start school in a couple of weeks, and I hope to have a place by then."
I grab a couple of beers and hand him one. "The realtor will find you the perfect place. I know there are a ton of rentals in gated neighborhoods, but I wanted to buy since this is my hometown, and I'll most likely retire as an Armadillo."
"Makes sense. I would rather rent first and figure out what's best for Lucy and the kids. Schools, restaurants, and activities are the priorities. But I'm damn happy to be reunited with my favorite QB."
"I bet you say that to all the quarterbacks."
He throws his head back and lets out a booming belly laugh. "Just ones that get me bonuses." We clink our brown bottles against each other. "To being an Armadillo."
I shake my head. "It's an awful fucking mascot."
"Yeah, it should be the Austin Alpacas or Coyotes, anything but armadillos."
He asks me about the organization, and of course, he knows J.D. from his playing days. We'd all go out whenever we played the Las Vegas Dice. And then, the conversation turns to our beautiful owner's daughter.
"She's incredible. Loves numbers. And put the trade together to get you here without anyone's knowledge or input. Smart as a whip."
"Are you into her? I've never seen your eyes light up when talking about a woman. Oh no, you are. Shit, O'Ryan, you can't. Or have you already?"
There are a handful of us who hang out in the off-season and take vacations together, and Frank is one of them. Even after he got married, his family comes too.
"No, she's off-limits. Just my luck that when I'm interested in someone, she's my boss," I say.
"You want to watch film tonight?" he asks. "I need to get up to speed on how our offensive line works."
"Glad you're here, buddy. You won't regret it. Let's go down to the man cave. I have a whiteboard and everything."
"You've always liked to draw," he says, chuckling.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah."
We spend two hours reviewing play calls that J.D. sent him. It's a digital file with our twenty most common plays to digest on the flight, and Frank only has a few questions. After we go over them, we both head to bed.
I throw my clothes in the hamper and sit on the side of my bed. My phone chimes with a voicemail from Sutton. It's two in the morning in New York. It makes me smile because she wouldn't be on her phone if she were having sex with Bodhi.
"Hey, I just wanted to thank you for sending Anna flowers. She made it through surgery. Nine hours. I thought she was dying. I was so worried. Anyway, she'll be in the hospital until they determine she can go. Probably three to five days. I'll see you at the game against NYC. Oh, is Frank here yet? J.D. hasn't texted me. Anyway, thanks for taking care of meon the plane. I know I was a complete mess. I got lucky having you as my QB. Okay. Well, good night."
I listen to it a few times and then pull out my sketch pad and turn it to the first page. When I got home from the club in Denver, I drew her from memory. It's not perfect since it was dark, with neon strobe lights creating contours and shadows. Flipping the page, I trail my fingers over her lips from the first time we officially met at her dad's house. She's in that fucking tank and tennis skirt. There are ten more. The last one is from the night she was here, when we exchanged bone-chilling kisses.
Instead of stuffing it back in the drawer, I sketch her face as she cried while telling me about Anna. I shut my eyes, letting the moment cascade through my mind, and my pencil just flows, making long strokes for her hair and short ones for her eyes and nose. Sutton is beautiful even with splotches on her face.
Jesus, I wish I were the one with her right now and not him.
EIGHTEEN
SUTTON
What a week. Every muscle in my body aches from sitting on hospital furniture. At least I've been staying with Bodhi at night and sleeping in a bed that feels more like a cloud. He's been a complete gentleman, a surprising change. I know I should get my own room, but I like having someone to talk to.
Last night, he asked if I'd give him a second chance. When I told him I needed time, he surprised me—no arguments, no pleading, just a quiet nod. It wasn't how Bodhi would've reacted in the recent past.
