Chapter 26
GIANA
The plane breaksthrough dark clouds. The mottled sky ranges from dreary gray to dirty white, reflecting my mood.
With my head tilted back, I watch the ground approach and close my eyes as the plane hits the runway, then bounces. The brakes screech. I stare at the terminal filled with thousands, yet none are here for me. Not a foot on land, and already the emptiness engulfs me. I should have stayed in Italy.
Byron hasn’t answered my calls, and Mom is angry I declined Isabella’s offer, though I know if I change my mind, Isabella will welcome me back with open arms. I open the text from Charlotte.
Byron is hurting. He is not himself. He is angry at everyone—the world, you, and me. Please understand the pain he is in. I know my brother is a pain in the ass, but he needs you now more than ever. I look forward to seeing you soon. Lottie x
I sent him multiple texts before he responded.
Please don’t be concerned. I am fine. BTW, Austin Cisterna should hire you as his film star. You looked more beautiful than Clarissa Carrington. I’m genuinely happy for you. We can chat more when you get home. For now, I need time to clear my head.
No kisses. Nothing but a subtle hint to give him space. I sent another three texts and crickets. The moment I’m inside the terminal, I call his number—straight to voicemail. I send another text while waiting for my luggage.
Hi Byron. I’m home. I can’t wait to see you. G xx
Part of me wants to drive directly to his house, but I need to see my parents first and check in on Dad. Mom and Dad greet me with excitement, wanting to hear my stories and see all the photos. Dad has a spark about him that I haven’t seen in months.
Before heading to my room, Dad chats to me about Byron’s garden. I look at Mom, assuming he is mixing his words up, getting them confused.
“Byron took your father to his home last weekend and asked his advice on the garden.”
“He did?” I stare at Dad. “You were at his home?”
“He told your father he was the best in his field.” Mom looks genuinely pleased. “We mentioned you were returning today, and he said he already knew.” Yet he won’t respond to my texts or calls. “His surgery is today.”
A ball of panic grows in my chest. I should have known this.
“Did he drive here?”
“He had a driver with him.”
Right.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to go and see him after I unpack.”
Mom hugs me. “Of course, honey. We’ll see you later. I think he’s excited for you to come home.”
Could have fooled me.
After closing my bedroom door, I call Charlotte.
“Gigi, you’re home.”
“I am. How is Byron?”
“I’m here at the hospital. He’s groggy. I just stepped out of the room. He ruptured his Achilles and ended up with screws in his ankle.”
Holding my hand over my chest, I close my eyes, imagining the pain he is suffering.
“I’ll be there soon.”
“I’ll wait for you. Don’t be surprised by his grumpiness. He refuses to accept he can’t play the remainder of the season.”
“I’ll never underestimate his stubbornness and determination.”
Charlotte groans. “It’s not always a good thing. See you soon.”
I shower, change, add a little makeup, and run downstairs to my car. In my head, I consider my words, how to show my support but not pity him. He hates pity.
Imagining him sulking, I take the elevator to the right floor, and a nurse directs me to his room. Through the glass, I see him on the bed, his face whiter than the sheets, and my stomach plummets before rising to my throat. Overcome with nausea, I groan, and Charlotte turns. She walks out to greet me.
“Hey. He’s sleeping. Come and get a coffee with me. I have some things to tell you.”
We head to the cafeteria and find a table away from most of the people. She asks about my trip, and I tell her all the fun stuff until our coffees are delivered.
Coffee does something to our brain. It’s like a trigger to confess, to talk about our troubles. Charlotte dives straight into her and Brandon’s secret relationship.
“I already knew,” I tell her. Charlotte’s eyes pop. “About a month ago, I saw you both in the locker room.” I screw up my face. “Sorry. I ran away because… well…”
Charlotte looks bashful and lowers her gaze. “I told him that was a bad idea, but once he started touching me…” She stops talking and looks to me for understanding.
“I never told him.”
“I know. When BJ told him, he flew into a rage and has shot daggers at me and BJ ever since.”
Oh boy.
“If I got a chance, I was going to leave hints for him but then decided against it because we know how much Byron hates being lied to.”
“Yeah.” She tilts her head back before meeting my gaze. “How do I fix this?”
“I don’t know. He’s also angry at me, so I have to tread carefully while he navigates this injury.”
“He’s devastated.” Charlotte gently shakes her head, her eyes watering. “He’s out for the season, even though he believes there’s a chance he’ll play the finals.”
“No?”
“Yeah. He’ll be replaced by the rookie guard, and if the rookie performs, they won’t play Byron, who isn’t one hundred percent fit. It’s a business. My family understands it has to come before Byron’s ambitions.”
Shit.
“His world is basketball,” I add. “Imagine his mindset if he suffers a career-ending injury.”
“And that’s what worries me,” she says. “The BJ-and-me problem will be old news soon as he loves both of us. It’s his future that concerns me. I think about players whose careers have ended because of substance abuse.”
“Byron is disciplined and focused. He barely drinks?—”
“When he’s on top of the world. Remember his freshman year?”
My stomach drops for the second time. “It’s a time I wanted to forget.”
“Together, we can stop him from falling again.”
If he allows us to help.
We return to his room to find Brandon standing beside his bed. We can’t see either of their faces, yet we can hear their raised voices.
“It’s not about Lottie and you,” Byron roars. “You were someone I trusted. Both of you were. So don’t give me bullshit excuses.”
Charlotte and I stare at one another. She goes to march into the room, but I stop her. “Give them a minute,” I whisper.
“I don’t give two fucks what you two do now. What I’m pissed about is that I’m lying here because you didn’t listen to Coach. You made me out as an asshole on the court. It wasn’t about you scoring in my position. You heard the play Coach wanted, and I called it. Then you distracted me, and here I am. Why didn’t you set a screen, man? You talk about me, but you’re a selfish bastard, and I’m here because of you!” He yells the final blow. Brandon turns and storms out of the room.
“Babe.” Charlotte lays a hand on his arm. He doesn’t meet her gaze.
“I’m outta here.”
“Give him time,” she whispers. “He’s just got out of surgery.”
“I tried,” he whispers and shakes his head. “I’ll see you later.” She touches his shoulder, but he strides away. She watches him walk past the nurses toward the exit.
“You should go and talk to him. I’ll stay with Byron.”
She wipes a tear from her eye. “He’ll come around to us eventually, but this injury has affected him to the point where he thinks everyone is the enemy. I need to be here to support you.”
We look into Byron’s room. His head is tilted on the pillow, his eyes shut. There are IVs, drains, and cords coming from his limbs. What was Brandon thinking coming today?
I creep into his room, lean in, and kiss his cheek. His eyes flutter open. His watery eyes kill me. My chest constricts. He closes his eyes again. “Not now, Gigi.”
I swallow the lump in the back of my throat.
“I’m just going to sit with you a while.” I take his hand in mine. He doesn’t attempt to hold my hand, but he doesn’t pull his away either—a positive. Charlotte stands behind me.
“We’re here for you, Byron,” she says in a gentle voice.
He opens his eyes, then closes them again. “You should go after your boyfriend.”
“I’m staying with my brother.” She steps around me and runs a hand over his hair as though fixing his style. “Do you need any pain meds?”
“No,” he says without opening his eyes. “I want to rest.”
Charlotte refills his water glass and dithers with something on his side table. He rips his hand from mine, twists his upper body away from us toward the window, then heaves. Charlotte rushes around the bed and grabs his puke bag. She stands there holding it for him, sliding her hand over the top of his head to soothe him. He flops back onto the bed, eyes closed, breathing heavily. Charlotte wipes the side of his mouth with a tissue, then puts the bag in the trash.
“I’ll notify the nurse,” she whispers.
“Lottie,” he murmurs, and she pauses in the doorway. “Go to BJ. I said some things I didn’t mean.”
Her eyes meet mine, and my heart bursts. I can’t with all this emotion. I want to stay, but I think these two have much to talk about.
“He’ll be okay,” she says gently and continues on to speak to the nurse. I take his hand in mine, and this time, I feel a slight squeeze.
“Byron,” the nurse says as she enters the room with Charlotte. “I have something to help with the nausea.” She has a dish with a syringe and a vial. She adds it to the IV in his other hand. “You’ll feel better soon.”
For the next half hour, Charlotte and I sit in relative silence while Byron sleeps. We whisper a few things while scrolling on our cells.
“BJ isn’t responding to my texts,” she whispers. “I asked him if I should go over there, but he’s not replying.”
Byron’s family walks into the room. I stand the moment his parents enter. Jobe follows behind them, along with Franklin.
“I should go,” I tell Charlotte. “Tell him to call me if he needs anything.” I hug Mrs. Hendricks.
“It’s good to see you, Giana.” She gives me an extra squeeze.
“I’ll come back tomorrow to check in on him,” I whisper.
“Thank you.”
I turn and look back when I’m outside the room. His family gathers around his bed, every face etched with concern, especially his father’s. I remember his father not supporting his decision to play ball. He wanted him to be part of the Hendricks empire. What will he expect of his son now?
The entire drive home, I’m distracted by worrying thoughts.
As soon as I pull into the garage, I receive a text. I turn off the engine and grab my cell.
You should have stayed in Italy. You still have your dream.
My heart cracks with the final blow. I know what he is doing, and this time, trying to push me away won’t work. I’m older, wiser, more experienced than last time and more freaking stubborn when it comes to getting what I want. For once, Byron Hendricks is not going to beat me.