Losing at Love (22 page)

She heard the click of the French doors behind her opening and then closing and bare feet thumping softly on the little stone patio just outside the house.

“It’s not a court and we don’t have the ocean, but I suppose this’ll have to do.”

“You can hear the traffic. It’s soothing.”

“Whatever you say, love. How does your ankle feel?”

“Numb. Won’t really know until tomorrow.”

“Did you talk to Dom? About what you said to him?”

“I didn’t really mean it.”

“Obviously. Dom puts up a good front and he knows you’re pissed off, but it was probably a kick in the gut to hear those words from you.”

“I’ll apologize.”

“Good.”

“It’s not as bad as that trainer says it is.”

“You’re a doctor now?”

“I know my body. I know how much is too much for it and it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Pen, but if you want to play, no one is going to stop you.”

“That’s correct.”

He rolled toward her and propped himself up on his elbow. Leaning over her, he let his fingers trail over her neck, hooking one around the chain of her necklace and pulling the coin out from beneath the collar of her shirt. He took it in his hand and squeezed a fist around it. “Just think really hard about what you want here, love. You’ve got the next ten years, maybe more to win Wimbledon, twice, three times, maybe four or five.”

She brought her hand up and wrapped it around his. “Not six?”

“If you want to. If you make good decisions and take care of yourself and…”

“And don’t play on an injured ankle because I’m too proud to withdraw?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. If you felt like you could’ve managed the pain in your knee in Australia, would you have played?”

“Yes.”

“See?”

“But that was before.”

“Before what?”

“Before I figured out what was really important.”

She groaned, pulling away, the necklace falling from his grasp, and rolled over onto her stomach, letting her hair fall into her face. “Don’t get mushy on me now, Alex.”

“I’m just saying that I was a mess back then. If my knee was hurting now and my coach and my doctor were both telling me that it was a bad idea to play on it? I’m saying I’d probably listen.”

“I want to win Wimbledon. I’m in Lutrova’s head. I can beat her.”

“You already proved that to everyone.”

“It’s not about everyone. It’s about me. I’m not bullshitting when I say that my ankle is fine. It hurts, but I can manage it and it’s not a reason to withdraw.”

“And if your ankle gives out on you?”

“And if your knee gives out on you?”

“Knee’s fine. Doctor said so. Doctor’s saying something different this time and he’s a good one, wouldn’t bullshit you. He knows what he’s asking when he tells you to withdraw.”

“You think I should withdraw too then. Just say it.”

“Yes, I do. I think you want to win Wimbledon so badly that you’re letting it cloud your judgment. I think you’re making a mistake. A big one.”

“You’re just one more person I’ll have to prove wrong then.”

“I guess so.” He sat up, squinting at the sky. “It’s going to rain. Come on inside.”

“In a bit. I’m just going to think a little bit more.”

“Penny…” he trailed off.

“In a bit. I promise.”

He disappeared inside the house, standing at the sliding glass doors that led out to the garden for a moment before moving out of sight. Penny rolled back over, her hands going to the necklace that slipped out from underneath her shirt. She twisted the chain around her fingers and pulled the coin into her palm. Slowly, she rotated her ankle out—no pain—then back in, a short, sharp twinge. Not so bad. It was like she said, manageable.

~

She crept up the stairs, using the banister for support, hopping as gracefully as she could from step to step. The second floor was dark, no light shining out from under any of the guest room doors, but as she turned, the door to the bathroom opened and Indy stepped out into the hallway. Her blue eyes were wide as they met Penny’s. She knew Indy wanted her forgiveness, but at the moment, she just didn’t have it in her. Penny managed a grimace and Indy’s shoulders sagged before she slipped into the guestroom she shared with Jasmine.

With a heavy sigh, Penny faced the other end of the hall, the master bedroom door was cracked open just a hair, just enough for the golden glow of light to spill out into the hallway. A shadow passed by, Alex moving around the room, getting ready for bed. She’d been harsh, more than she meant to be, but they’d sworn to always be honest with each other after that fiasco in Paris with Caroline and those pictures. Be careful what you wish for, Pen, she said to herself, shaking her head and letting her bad foot rest gently against the floor. The pressure wasn’t too terrible, the effects of the cortisone shot beginning to take hold in the joint. Still, she did her best to keep her weight off of it as she hobbled down the hallway. He’d given her honesty and that’s all she’d ever asked of him.

She slipped through the doorway and whispered, “Hey.”

He stood at the opposite end of the room, shirt unbuttoned, taking his watch off his wrist. As he glanced up, she was able to catch his gaze in the mirror. “Hey,” he repeated.

“Listen, I’m sorry about…”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, shaking his head and turning around, giving her an even better view of the firm chest underneath the sides of his shirt falling open over his torso. “One of the things I love about you is that fire, Penny. If you weren’t a stubborn mule, I’d never have fallen for you in the first place.”

Stepping into the room fully, she reached back and shut the door behind her. “Can we…can we just ignore everything when we’re in here? No tennis. No ankle. No Indy giving me the “please forgive me” puppy eyes. No pressure for you to win again. No pressure for me to win for the first time. Pretend like none of it is happening and it’s just me and you, nothing else?” she asked, her teeth catching on her bottom lip as he moved closer to her, crossing the room in just a few, long strides.

“In here, it can be however you want it. You and me, though, we don’t have to pretend. All that other shit, it doesn’t matter. It’s always just you and me, forever. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds go-,” but her words were swallowed up by his mouth, hot and wet and possessive against hers, his body colliding against her, hands falling to her waist to lift her slightly as he pressed her against the door.

“How’s that, love?” he said, as he pulled his lips from hers, letting them travel along the column of her neck, biting down gently at her pulse point.

“Perfect,” she said, sliding her hands through his hair. His mouth carved a trail of heat across her chest, his nose nudging the V-neck of her shirt out of the way, allowing him to explore the tops of her breasts, the lace of her bra finally impeding his path. Letting out a frustrated noise, his body shifted against hers, one arm sliding beneath her knees and the other bracing across her back, as he lifted her up into his arms, swinging her away from the door and toward the large bed at the center of the room. For a moment, she tensed, thinking he was about to toss her onto it, but instead, he kneeled at the edge, setting her onto the mattress easily. Her hands went to his hair, lightly running her nails over his scalp. He looked up at her, his hands resting against her knees, his palms warm and steady, his thumbs tracing small circles on the skin of her inner thighs. “Come on,” she said, tugging at his wrists. She wanted to feel him, every single inch of him.

“No,” he said, pulling free and fiddling with the button on her jean shorts. “I think we’re going to try something new tonight.”

“New?” she asked, and he smirked, his blue eyes flashing.

“Just lay back, love,” he said, pushing gently at her shoulder with one hand, the other working open the button.

“And think of England?” she asked, letting her back hit the mattress and feeling the light pressure of her waistband give way.

“Yeah,” he agreed, the rasp of his beard on the inside of her thigh and the warmth of his breath making goosebumps spring to life on the skin behind her knee. “Something like that.”

June 27th

The court wasn’t Court 1. It didn’t have stands lining the sides or a crowd that paid for tickets for her particular match. There wasn’t a PA announcer or video replay or a security guard walking her from the locker room to the court and back again. And the girl across from her, though athletic and a very good tennis player, definitely wasn’t Penny Harrison. Indy couldn’t help the sinking feeling like she’d come down in the world. Like she’d gotten a little taste of what this whole pro tennis thing really was, but she wasn’t allowed to have it yet, not really. So instead, she was on this outer court and for now, that would have to be good enough. The girl on the other side of the net, Zhang Li, was an up-and-coming Chinese junior, but while her game was solid, there weren’t any weapons that really made it a tough match for Indy, not after facing a player of Penny’s caliber.

“Time,” the chair umpire said and she rose from her seat on the sideline and headed back out to the baseline. It was Indy’s serve and aside from one game where her location had let her down and she’d double faulted her way to a break, Zhang Li hadn’t been able to put together any sort of defense against her major weapon.

“Here we go, Indiana,” a voice bellowed from the crowd and she let her eyes flicker, just for a second, to Jack. This was why she felt like she did about him, that intense, burning, scale every obstacle in the way kind of feeling. Things were awkward as all hell between them. They’d started something the other night, something that he maybe didn’t really like about him or her or them. But there he was, supporting her because the awkwardness would fade, they’d work through it and he wanted to be there for her, maybe as much as she wanted him there. They’d work it out, the stuff that freaked him out or maybe the stuff he thought should have freaked her out or whatever they were going through. That was the plan anyway. Tonight, after she wrapped up this match, she wanted him all to herself. She just had to get through Zhang Li.

The match had only taken about an hour. Indy won two sets to love, 6-2, 6-0. Emerging from the locker room, showered and dressed, she saw Dom waiting for her, a large smile on his face as he pushed off the ivy-covered wall.

“Beautiful job out there today,” he said.

“Thanks.” She didn’t really want to talk to him. She’d done a damn good job of avoiding him since they arrived in London and anything he said now would just ruin the good mood her win had put her in.

“The WTA is fining you for your outburst at the press conference.”

“I figured,” she said. “It was stupid.”

“It was, but you don’t exactly have the market cornered on stupid lately. I’m sorry I let you down.”

Indy’s eyes flashed to his. Maybe she’d let him have his say. “Go on.”

“I want you to know that what you saw, that’s over and I know it probably doesn’t mean much now, but I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t tell my dad,” she said.

Dom rubbed a hand across his face and nodded. “Thank you for that. She really loves him, you know?”

“I don’t really care,” she said. “I was…you’re my coach and you believe in me, maybe more than anyone else has since my mom died and I can’t…I don’t care what you do or who you do or whatever, Dom. I just need you to be my coach.”

“I can do that and one better, I’ll pay your fine myself. If I had been the coach I’m supposed to be, that never would have happened.”

“Thanks.”

“So we’re good?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Great, otherwise this would have been really awkward. We’re all going out to celebrate, on me.”

“Define all?”

~

Jack and Alex weren’t having any trouble keeping the conversation going between them. English and American football, a little tennis, a little business, some movie about gangsters that they both loved, the words flowed between them like old friends. It made sense that they’d get along, even when one of the men was sharing a bed with the other’s sister. It was a brother recognizing that his sister had made a decision and respecting that decision, making an effort and realizing that she’d made a decent enough choice. Dom joined in with them easily and the awkwardness on the other side of the table was overshadowed by their conversation. The silence between the two girls, who should have tons to talk about, even if it was just how one kicked the other’s ass a few days before, spoke volumes. Indy could barely stand it. It was her fault, so it was her job to make it right. Maybe that could be the first step in making things right with Jack.

“Come on,” she said, tapping Penny on the shoulder and flicking her head toward the edge of the private room Alex managed to secure for them at what Indy assumed was a ridiculously expensive restaurant. There was a small alcove that led to the restrooms and it would be perfect for this conversation. Contained and away from prying male ears.

“You really want to do this now?” Penny said, her eyes darting toward the three men across the table, all of whom were still chatting away.

“Yeah. Come on.”

Penny leaned against the wall, arms crossing over her chest in a move so reminiscent of her older brother when he was annoyed, Indy almost laughed, but she managed to choke it down.

She took a deep breath and leaned on the wall opposite Penny. “I’m sorry about blowing you off after the match. I was upset.”

Penny shrugged. “It was fine. You lost and losing sucks. I get it.”

“I’m still sorry and look what you said the other day, about not knowing if you could forgive me or not.”

“That was a shitty thing to say.” Penny uncrossed her arms, one hand going to the chain around her neck, twisting it around a finger.

“I deserved it. I just thought maybe you’d had some time since then to think about it or at least…I don’t know, not hate me as much.”

“To be honest, I really, really haven’t, but I don’t hate you.” It wasn’t a lie. If there was one thing she learned about Penny Harrison in the short time they’d known each other, she gave it to you straight or not at all. Indy didn’t really blame her though, with all the crap going down with her ankle, a fight with her brother’s girlfriend probably wouldn’t be tops on her priority list either.