Page 78 of Broken Play
Francisco taps on the wall. "We should head over."
Anna grabs my hands, and we stand at the same time. She hands me my credentials. I'll have a quick interview with the Tour Tennis Channel, and then head to Anna's box.
On the way, I tap out a message to Greyson, knowing he won't get it until at least halftime. Once he's in the zone and the headphones are off, he doesn't check his phone.
Get in the red zone. If you don't, I'll have to find a new number ten.
It's flirty and will make him crazy with possessiveness. If they're down at halftime, it will give him the motivation to throw for touchdowns. If they're up, he'll be grinning, grateful that sexy times are coming his way. Just kidding. I don't bribe him with sex if we win. But he is a winner, so I'm good with it.
The driver drops off Anna and Francisco near the locker room entrance and stops for me in front of the broadcasting trailer.
Two of my favorite tennis stars ask me questions about my new career, Anna, and, of course, allude to Bodhi. Since I can't say anything about dating Greyson, I say, "I'm sorry, as always, I don't talk about my personal life." I want to say a million awful things about Bodhi—about how he changed from being a wholesome, handsome tennis prodigy to an abusive partner—but again, I fight to keep everything hidden.
I find my seat in Anna's team box. The seats infront of me are taken by her coaches and trainers. Several people ask for my autograph, and reluctantly, I sign my name. Today is about Anna, not me. I take my seat, fish my sunglasses from my purse, and arrange them on my face. Anna's warming up as Francisco and a friend slip into the box, but when Francisco steps aside, it's my ex—and, judging from the crowd's eruption, their favorite tennis player ever.
He pulls me into his arms, and the ground swells; the roar is so loud. Kissing my cheek, he whispers, "This is how it should be."
How can these people still love him? The world is twisted.
My elbow digs into his waist, pushing him off without anyone knowing. I give the crowd a tight-lipped smile, realizing the cameras are on us. I can't believe tennis fans still love him after seeing the video of him shoving me at the football game.
Through gritted teeth, I ask, "Why are you here... in Anna's box?"
"If you remember, I got her to the hospital. I've been the one cheering her on while you were playing businesswoman."
My head whips around. "Playing?" I sneer. His beautiful face gets uglier every time I see him. Noelle told me that her mom used to tell her when she was little, "Pretty is as pretty does." I thought it was a funny Southern saying, but now I understand the meaning of it. Bodhi is gorgeous, but his actions border on demonic when cameras aren't flashing.
"Come on, Sutton. Travel with me. It'll be like old times: me and you, Anna, and this guy."
I don't answer him. I don't look at him.
My eyes focus on Anna. My heart focuses on Greyson.
Bodhi pats my leg, whispers in my ear, nudges my elbow, and puts his arm around my chair. Not once do I acknowledge any of this. Anna looks into our box, getting some tips from her coach, but something isn't right. Maybe she's not ready to come back.
Anna barely wins against an opponent forty spots lower in the rankings, but in my eyes, it's quite an accomplishment. She's way ahead of her recovery schedule. She loves her doctors in the States. We stand and clap, which is basically required sportsmanship. Bodhi scoots back like the gentleman he pretends to be, letting me pass in front of him. His hand is on my back, and I keep shaking my shoulder so he'll stop. In true Bodhi form, he doesn't care that I don't want him touching me.
When we're out of the fans' view, I spin toward him. "What's your problem? I'm taken, so now you want me?" It feels like I'm shooting nails from my mouth; my words are so sharp.
"Taken, really?" He flashes me his saccharine smile. I don't know why I said that out loud. I am taken, but nobody can know, at least not until I talk to Greyson. "And who is this mysterious boyfriend of yours?"
"None of your business."
"Is it the quarterback who came to your defense? You can do better than someone who works for you."
I fight back every instinct to tell him that the only thing he and Greyson have in common is that they make millions per year. The rest is opposite-land. Greyson is caring, romantic, funny, and adventurous. I mean, Bodhi never nailed me against a locker room door.
"Bodhi, I've tried keeping this civil. If you come any closer to me, I'll file a restraining order against you. Something I should have done years ago." I shake my head, tears threatening to fall. "I don't think your fans want to know the entire story."
His eyes narrow, calculating if I'm telling the truth. Then he says, "Tell Anna she played well. If she needs more instruction, I'm glad to fill in." He shoots me a wink that's more of a dare than a flirtation.
Strutting away like he's on the runway of a Mr. Universe pageant, he waves at fans, occasionally signing autographs. Bodhi leaves an impression, and his words have me wondering what he meant about Anna. Has he been coaching her? If so, why wouldn't she tell me?
After a quick hug, I tell Anna that I'm needed back in Austin before I leave for a meeting in Seattle with a giant tech company that wants to partner.
I check with Marlon, and the team is supposed to land at the airport at nine, so I rearrange my charter flight for Austin instead of Seattle. I need to talk to Greyson.
I'm on the tarmac and waiting.
