Page 45 of Broken Play
"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 comesfirst."
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 youreacted 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.
