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The End Game _46.jpg

Jordan

I’m hunched on the floor in the corner of the ER waiting room, my back pressed to the wall. My legs are too weak to move. I can’t even bring myself to stand.

Tipping my head back against the wall, I close my eyes. I don’t want to open them again. I don’t want to see the world anymore without Brody in it.

Why? Why did you do this to yourself? To us?

But I know why. Deep down I know, my mind falling back to the day Brody showed me the tattoo on his chest.

“You fly too?” I’d asked after reading the pretty cursive script inked out across tanned muscle.

“Out there on the field, the game is everything,” he told me. “It builds you up, breaks you down, and it bleeds you dry. But I love it. It’s the only place I’m free.”

I cover my mouth with my hand, my heart screaming with pain. Is this what you wanted, Brody? To leave us all behind and be free?

Desperate to touch him, I’d covered that tattoo with the flat of my palm. His skin was warm, his heart beating powerfully beneath it. “You believe in God?”

“Of course.” He leaned in then, his eyes dark and honest, laying his soul bare for me to see. I’d known it right then, that Brody would have my heart, and that he would break it. Yet I gave it to him anyway. The revelation had left me trembling. “I need to believe in something.”

“Then believe in yourself.”

“You can’t say shit like that.”

I’d pulled back in a last ditch effort to shore up the walls that were crumbling between us, a pitiful attempt to stave off eventual heartache. “Why can’t I say stuff like that?”

“Because I’ll only let myself down.”

That right there is why. He never believed. Not once. And god it hurts to know the man I love with everything I have never had faith in himself the same way he had faith in me. It rips a giant gaping hole in my chest.

The ER automatic doors whoosh open and Jaxon rushes in, dragging me back to reality. His eyes are red and frantic as they scan the waiting room. I realize that I left him there on the road. Jax is Brody’s cousin and I just pushed my way in without a second thought, leaving him to find his own way here. I didn’t think. I just reacted, seeing no one or nothing but Brody.

Jaxon’s gaze lights on me and he doesn’t pause. He heads straight for me. I suck air into my lungs when I realize I’m sitting here not breathing, a huddled messy ball on the floor of the ER.

His voice cracks. “Brody?”

I shake my head. Jax reaches out. Muscled arms wrap around my torso, lifting me with ease, they anchor me to his side as deep, jagged sobs tear from my chest. He squeezes me tight. “Tell me,” he begs thickly.

Oh god.

“I wasn’t there for him, Jax,” I cry, dragging in deep, juddering breaths. Something happened at his father’s house. A catalyst that left Brody desperate and in pain, and alone, and I wasn’t there. “Brody … he …”

My words die as my gaze falls to the ER doors over Jaxon’s shoulder, the same ones a woman is walking through that I’ve only ever seen in photos. Seeing her in the flesh, the resemblance to Brody is clear—hair the color of rich caramel, dark brown eyes, tall. Behind her comes a man in a suit. Liam Madden. His father. His presence can only mean one thing. The media has gotten wind of what happened and they’re outside.

My eyes narrow on the man who told Brody his life was for nothing, and then made him believe it with every fiber of his soul.

“You,” I hiss. Rage builds until I see nothing but red. I launch myself at him, wild with rage and hate. I don’t know what I plan to do except cause him pain the same way he did to Brody. Jaxon moves in, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me away.

“Jordan, stop!” he cries, panting with effort because anger has given me superhuman strength. But I can’t stop. I’m lost in a world of hurt because Brody’s dad is here pretending to care when he never has. It makes me livid.

“This is all your fault!” I shriek at him, trying to pull free. “None of this would’ve happened if it weren’t for you, you fucking asshole!” My voice is shrill and I’m sobbing openly, not caring that the entire ER waiting room is silent and watching.

When Liam speaks, his voice is forceful and cold, shocking me like icy water dashed in my face. “I didn’t force Brody to take drugs. He did that all on his own.”

“You sonofabitch,” Jaxon growls and lets me go.

Hands fisted, he starts for Liam, pulling up short when a little girl steps out from behind Brody’s father. Pretty blonde curls halo her face and dark brown eyes stare right at me, wide with fear. A tear leaks out, trickling down a single, rosy pink cheek. “Jordan?”

She walks around her dad and straight up to me. She’s a tiny little thing, yet the way Brody talks of her, she’s an absolute hellion—full of fire and cheeky attitude. “Annabelle?”

My anger deflates and wiping my face with the backs of my fingers, I sink to my knees in front of her. It brings Brody’s sister a little higher, causing her to look down at me. I open my mouth to speak but have no idea what to say.

“Is my brother okay?” she asks, her voice wobbling.

Jaxon holds his breath, both of them looking down at me. Brody’s mother comes to stand behind Annabelle, placing her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. I look up. Pale and distraught, Juliet Madden still radiates beauty, even now fighting back tears. Dismissing her completely, my eyes drop back to Annabelle.

“He’s sleeping,” is all I can say, my eyes filling again.

Her little chin lifts, but I see how much it costs her. There’s so much strength inside this tiny little girl. “Is he going to wake up?”

My voice is like sandpaper as I force the words past my lips. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Jaxon mumbles and sinks to a chair, holding his head in his hands.

Annabelle slams her little body against me, her bony arms wrapping around my neck. I put a hand on the ground to steady myself before we both tip over on the floor. It shocks me. I never expected Brody’s little sister to like me, or show affection, let alone grab for me in her grief. When I’m steady, I wrap one arm around her little waist and my free hand goes to the back of her head, brushing at the curls.

“I don’t really hate him,” she cries, her hot tears dripping on my skin. “I was just mad that he went away. Do you think if I could tell him that, he’d wake up?”

Shifting upwards, I slide into the seat beside Jaxon, bringing Annabelle with me. She holds on tight, and I realize her attachment stems from the need to be close to someone who loves her brother as much as she does. I know because I feel it too.

Jaxon takes her hand in his and bows his head toward me, our foreheads almost touching. “You don’t need to tell him that,” he says to Annabelle, “because he already knows you don’t hate him.”

“That’s right,” I say, rubbing my hand up and down her shoulder, forcing a calm I don’t feel. She looks to me. “He’d never believe something so silly as all that.”

“But he left.”

Jaxon and I share a pained glance. “Annabelle …” I flick a glare toward Brody’s father. He doesn’t even notice. Juliet is hovering nearby, but he’s taken a seat away from us, his phone pressed to his ear. My eyes return to Annabelle. “You have to believe me when I tell you that leaving you was not something he ever wanted to do.”

She nods, unsure. “I still want to tell him I don’t hate him. Just so he knows.”

“Of course you can tell him,” Jaxon says.

Juliet steps in. Taking her daughter’s hand, she tugs her off my lap. Annabelle goes reluctantly. “Come on. Let’s go get a coffee.”