She faces me. One last time I take her in—all the stubbornness and fire and beauty so bright it hurts my eyes. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

But you won’t, I say silently as she stalks out the door.

This time when I reach for the button, I buzz the nurse. It hurts to breathe. I need a fucking painkiller. God, I need something. Anything. She comes in a few minutes later and checks my chart. Then I’m given some light aspirin which does fuck all except sit in my stomach like a lead weight.

After staring out the window into the dark night for over an hour, a rap comes at the door. I turn my head as Doug McDougall walks in, casual in jeans and a tee shirt that reads: Kilts. Because balls this big don’t fit in jeans.

Funny guy. I want to laugh, but I don’t have it in me. “Big Mac.”

He nods. “Madden.” Moving to the end of my bed, he picks up my chart and runs his eye down it, flicking pages, frowning. He looks up. “How you doing?”

“Great.” I wave a hand around my stark hospital room. “Look how far I’ve come.”

“So I see.” Putting my chart away, Doug takes a seat on the edge of the chair Jordan vacated just two short hours earlier. Resting elbows on his knees, he leans forward and looks me in the eye. “Tell me, Brody. Why am I here?”

I take a deep breath. “Because I need to prove myself wrong.”

He nods again, liking my answer. “Just you. No one else. When you do that, you’ll find your way, kiddo.” Standing, he ruffles my hair and buzzes the nurse again. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“You packed my bags?” I ask, flicking back the covers.

“You’re all set.”

A grunt slips out when I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Doug steps back, letting me do my thing. I respect that. Panting with effort, I rise to my feet, dizzy and sore.

When I catch my breath, I look at Doug, my face grim and sweaty. Please don’t hate me, Jordan. I need to do this for the both of us. It’s the only way. “Let’s blow this joint.”

Jordan

Four weeks later

Present day…

North Sydney Oval, Australia

I step on the bus. It pulls out as I walk down the aisle checking for an empty seat. My eyes fall outside the window to my brother walking to his car.

Two years ago he waved me goodbye at the airport. I left this country with stars in my eyes and determination welded deep inside my heart. Now I’m back a lifetime later, successful, two lucrative endorsements under my belt, and utterly alone.

Finding a seat, I put my headphones on, kick back, and stare out the window into the darkness. Our wedding song hits my ears, and I realize I pressed the wrong playlist. Instead of changing it, I let it play, silent tears falling down my cheeks.

Where are you, Brody? Why won’t you answer my calls, or my messages and emails? Why do you have to do this alone?

And the one that keeps me awake at night. Are you okay out there?

He just upped and left. There one minute, and the next … gone. An empty hospital room. An empty bed. And no answers. Nothing left behind, not even a note. Just a broken heart. I returned to our house in Houston and I waited, twiddling my thumbs, dodging pitying looks from Eddie, but I knew he wasn’t coming back. Two weeks after arriving home, I booked my ticket for Australia. It was what he wanted. If he couldn’t be with me, then I would at least give him this.

I wipe my face as the bus deposits the FIFA team back at the Sydney Intercontinental hotel. They laugh and joke with each other, making plans for a late dinner as we walk toward the bank of elevators, keeping me excluded. I can’t bring myself to care about their petty bullshit. They don’t know, nobody knows, just how incredible Brody Madden is—or what he went through.

One of the girls hits the up button on the elevators and we mill around to wait.

“Killer!”

No. Way.

I spin around, searching for the face that belongs to the American voice. It’s coming from the direction of the hotel bar. I scan the busy crowd. It’s Friday night. The masses are dressed in business attire, winding down after a long week of work. My eyes land on the only guy dressed in jeans and a thin tee shirt. It has no collar, so he’s managed to charm his way in despite the dress code.

Jax stands when I reach him. Without a word he hugs me tight. I hang on, because somehow I’m lost here in Australia, and Jaxon is more home to me now then my own country.

“What are you doing here?” I mumble into his chest.

“I’m here to bag a hot Aussie chick.”

A huff of empty laughter escapes me.

Jax draws back but doesn’t let go. I look up at him. “Where is he, Jax? He’s not returning my calls or emails. His social media is completely shut down. He’s dropped off the face of the earth.”

Without answering, he turns and tosses a few notes down on the bar. Taking my arm, he leads me toward the elevators. “Let’s go to your room. We can talk there.”

Taking the elevator to the eighteenth floor, we step out and walk down the hallway to my room. Swiping my card, we step inside and I dump my heavy training bag on the floor by my bed.

When I turn around, Jax is checking his watch. He looks at me, and then nods toward the bathroom. “Go take your shower. We can talk after that.”

My brows rise. “Are you saying I stink?”

“To high-fucking heaven. Now go.” He reaches for the hotel phone. “I’ll order you up some food.” Because I know he’s right, I make my way into the bathroom. “Oh and, Killer?” I half turn, my hand on the doorframe. He winks. “Put something sexy on when you’re done.”

I shake my head as I give him the middle finger.

He gasps and holds a hand to his heart. “That hurts.”

I’m shutting the door when he speaks into the phone. “Yes, room service? Can I order …”

His words fade out as I reach in and turn the water on. After a steaming shower that turns my skin raw, I dry off, put on a tank top and sweats, and step out to five different plates of food. Burgers, steak and chips, pancakes, pasta, and a pizza. Jax grins, a beer in his hand. “I didn’t know what you wanted.”

“There’s no way I can eat all of this,” I say, looking at all the plates as I towel dry my hair.

“I’d be impressed if you did. Seriously. But what you won’t eat, I will.” He pats his firm belly. “I’m a growing boy.”

I snort. “Hopefully you’re growing a brain in there somewhere too.”

“Har, har,” he retorts as I settle on a slice of pizza. Nibbling on the end, I back up until I hit the bed and sit down. Jax grabs a slice for himself and takes a seat beside me, taking a huge bite. He waves his bottle of beer. “Want a drink?”

I swallow a mouthful, my eyes shifting to the little bottles of spirits over by the mini bar. Would such a small bottle take the edge off everything I’m feeling? There’s an urge to find out. “Not allowed.”

He shakes his head. “The life of a jock. You’re all such bores, eating nothing but chicken and rice and drinking vile protein shakes.”

“Hey, I’m eating pizza.”

Jax looks at my small bite, and then at his slice almost gone in one mouthful. “And you’re doing a miserable job of it.”

I try to laugh but it falls flat.

“Christ, I flew all this way and you can’t even crack a smile.”

“You did fly all this way, Jax.” I half turn on the bed, facing him. He’s stuffing the last half of pizza in his mouth. It bulges out the sides of his cheeks. “And I’m so happy to see you, but … why are you here?”

Rather than speak, Jax checks his watch again and then picks up the remote. He points it at the television as he chews, fiddling with buttons until he finds the channel he’s looking for.