Page 79 of Broken Play
The team jogs down the ten steps. One by one, I congratulate them on their win. Greyson still hasn't gotten off. Finally, J.D. exits along with the quarterbacks coach, Matt Stricker. "Good game, coaches." I look around, and a bad feeling crawls up my spine. "Did I miss our QB?"
J.D. purses his lips, and Coach Stricker clears his throat. "Ms. Anders, Greyson stayed behind. Said he'll be back at practice on Tuesday."
A sinking feeling settles in my gut. "Oh. Well, congratulations. We make a good team, right?"
They nod. "We do... but, Sutton, Greyson takes everything seriously. Especially losses."
My brows dip in confusion. "We won."
"We did, but not because of Greyson."
"Sorry, I was with Anna at her match."
"We saw that. Glad she's back on the court," J.D. says. "Are you still going to Seattle?"
FORTY-ONE
GREYSON
After the game, I'm bombarded with images of Sutton and Bodhi in Miami. Two of my teammates say, "You tried, O'Ryan." They're talking about me tearing off the field to save her from his abuse, not knowing we're a couple.
I throw up my arms. "I tried."
My blood boils. My heart aches.
This is why I've stayed away from relationships—it's miserable how one person can inflict so much pain without lifting a hand.
What kills pain? Alcohol.
So what do I do? I stay in Minnesota and get drunk with Devon, who was one of my best friends in Denver.
J.D.: Damn, G, answer your fucking phone.
"Why don't you answer your phone?" Devon asks, strumming his fingers on the table.
"Nobody's more important than the best running back in the league. That's you, buddy," I say, slurring my words.
"You need to change that, bro. Since I got married, my stats are way up. There are several pros to having a woman to love in your bed. You should try it."
"I've been trying it." I pull my phone from my pocket and stare at the two little letters: BL, Boss Lady. "It doesn't matter what I do; she's still in love with her ex."
He sits back in his chair and tilts his head. "Over Greyson O'Ryan? No way, man."
"Yep, she told me she loved me last week, and this week she's cozied up with her ex."
"Well, you need to go whip his fucking ass if she's your girl."
When I shrug, he swipes my phone and says, "Who's BL? It must be her. She says she really needs to talk to you."
"Yeah, to let me down easy over the phone like a coward." I've seen the social media posts showing her and Bodhi, all cozy at the tournament, eating ice cream and standing very close together. How could she look at him after what he's done to her?
She uttered "I love you" not that many days ago, but through my bourbon-shaded eyes, the past is a heavy anchor, so hard to rid myself of completely. Believe me, I feel the albatross around my own neck.
FORTY-TWO
SUTTON
Why won't he answer me? A girl can only leave so many messages before she has to take the hint—I'm a wreck, torn between being ticked off and worried.
