Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
SAM
The serve was clean and powerful.
When it landed, she dropped into a squat, not in pain this time, but in what looked like relief.
She was wearing a version of her tennis uniform. With the exception of Wimbledon, Naomi Sullivan only played and trained in dark colours. Blues, blacks, and one US Open, she played in a red so dark it looked like blood. She’d been wearing dark green when she broke her ankle.
It was all black today. A baggy T-shirt tucked into the bottom of her bra. High-waisted leggings and grass court white shoes. Her black, curly hair was falling out of the bun she had it piled up in. There was a slight sheen to her exposed light brown skin.
As I stepped onto their practice court, she looked up at me, and I could see her hazel eyes shining with unshed tears.
“You have sisters, right?” Wyatt’s voice made me look away from Naomi’s hunched figure. He was close to me, also in all black, a near identical T-shirt and shorts with a black baseball cap. He had six balls in his hands.
“Yeah, two older, same as you.”
“Do you ever know what to do when they cry?” he asked lowly.
I smiled. “Honestly, they tend to just need someone to be there. Sometimes I hug them.”
“Right, yeah, that isn’t going to work with Mimi.
” We both looked at where she was still crouched on the grass.
“I want you to know that I haven’t spent my entire life never knowing what to do when she cries, but it didn’t happen that much before.
Or she only cried around Leesh, maybe? I dunno, ever since her injury, she cries at everything. ”
Naomi’s head snapped up. “It’s not at everything!”
“You cried because Logan sat when you asked him to yesterday.”
She stood and pointed at us with her racquet. “Because he was so happy to do it, and it was adorable. Anyway, Sam, what brings you here?”
That was easy. I needed to get out of the house so I didn’t have to listen to my dad watch the men’s French Open final and provide a running commentary on how I should be there and list all the reasons that he believes I’m not. I’d lost the important points in the semi-final, that was why.
My feet had led me to S&S, and when Emma caught sight of me, she mentioned her kids were on court five, and now here I was.
“I was in the area,” I answered.
“Your semi-final looked brutal,” she replied, and I felt the back of my neck heat at the thought of her watching me play. It was a ridiculous reaction to have, and I was just grateful that Naomi wouldn’t be able to see it.
“It was. How are you feeling?”
“Well, I just served for the first time in over a year, and you saw the aftermath.”
“Feel like I need to remind you that you can’t do that in match conditions,” Wyatt cut in.
“Thanks for that, mate.”
Wyatt looked at me. “You got any plans this afternoon?”
“Not really.” Unless you counted avoiding the French Open final.
He looked down at my shoes and back up. “You wanna hit. Mimi here needs a hitting partner.”
“Mimi?” I asked her.
“This dickhead couldn’t pronounce n’s for a while when he was talking, but was so obsessed with me, he needed to be able to get my attention, so Mimi was born. It’s an inner circle kind of name.”
“At least it’s a nice nickname. The ones my sisters have for me will go to the grave.”
An almost sinister smile broke out on Naomi’s face. “Oh, I have so many questions about that. But I respect the sibling covenant.”
“Hello! Can I get an answer to my question?” Wyatt cut in jokingly, waving his hand in between us.
“Yeah, I can hit today. I’ve gotta warm up first, though. You have a spare racquet?”
Naomi held hers out. I didn’t think it was possible to have racquet envy, but as I took it, I discovered it was. It was a similar weight to mine, but the grip felt like butter, and it just looked cooler.
“I’ve got another one, so you can use that. Warm up, then let’s have fun.”