by Nana Malone
“I’m glad to hear your knee healed up.” Jason said.
Bryce turned that winning smile on Jason and his family. “Yeah. Thanks to Tami here.”
Tami flushed. “I didn’t do anything, really.”
“Oh she’s just being modest.” Bryce tugged her into his side. “Thank you all so much again for the get well wishes.” Bruce turned his attention to the little girl with the caramel skin. “I think I owe you a special thank you for the teddy bear with the crutches. He’s my favorite.”
Of course the little girl beamed even as she flushed red. He just had that kind of effect on women.
Bryce, Jason and Nick spoke for a moment about the men’s rankings and Izzy came to stand by her. “How are you holding up? The media can be a zoo.”
Tami breathed a sigh of relief. “Sometimes I feel like I’m coming out of my skin. They’re everywhere. I don't know how you do it.”
“It takes time. And at some point, you stop caring and have to live your life. You're handling it beautifully.”
Tami tugged down her cap. “I’m not sure that I am.”
“Trust me. I once threatened to turn a water hose on the paparazzi.”
“I would have loved to see that.” Tami laughed.
“Listen, if you ever want to talk about it, Bryce knows how to get in touch. Give me a call.”
“Seriously? That’s amazing.”
Izzy shrugged. “I know how things were when Jason and I first got together. So call me okay?”
Her daughter Cara started to whine about being hungry, so the family headed off. When they were gone, Tami could only stare after them. “Those were the Cartwrights.”
He grinned. “I’m glad to see Jason Cartwright impressed you. When you met me, you didn’t even blink.”
She laughed. “That’s because I was trying to play it cool.”
“It’s okay. I knew you wanted me.” He pulled her in for a tight hug.
“Thank you for reminding me that this is all supposed to be fun,” she told him before kissing his cheek.
“Anytime, beautiful. You haven’t had nearly enough fun. I aim to fix that.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and held her hand as they filed out after the match.
As the first week of the tournament progressed and they continued to advance in their bracket, the attention they received grew, and the reporters’ questions following each match were increasingly directed at Bryce.
“Are you pleased with your showing here so far?”
“Of course,” he answered with a laugh. “A year ago I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to play again.”
“Are you disappointed you weren’t able to make your return in the men’s division?”
“Not at all,” he responded quickly. “I’m right where I want and need to be.” Beneath the table, he gave Tami’s thigh a squeeze, causing her to look down at the tabletop while giving him a playful nudge back with her foot.
“Do you hope to return to singles at all, or will you be content with rising to dominate the mixed doubles competitions?”
Bryce paused to contemplate his response. “I’ll be content, but I don’t know that she will,” he nodded towards Tami with a grin. “I might have to start looking for a new partner soon if I decide I’m not ready to go back to singles yet.”
“Miss Ivey, are you contemplating leaving Bryce to pursue a solo career?” Harsh judgment dripped from the question, and Tami set her features firmly as she responded.
“At the moment I’m pursuing both,” she explained. “When I was growing up, I had to set aside tennis altogether because my mother was diagnosed with cancer. I wouldn’t be here today if Bryce hadn’t urged me to give it another try, so no, I’m not contemplating leaving Bryce at all. I’ll be his partner for as long as he’ll have me.”
Bryce had to fight the impulse to wrap an arm around Tami’s shoulders and pull her in for a quick kiss. It wouldn’t have mattered, since the reporters already had what they wanted on the technical side of things.
“You two have been spotted in the stands on a few other matches,” a reporter commented.
“Is there a question to go with that observation?” Bryce muttered.
“There have been rumors that the two of you are a couple, and there are some pretty compelling photos from the last few days to support those rumors. Care to confirm or deny them?”
“I think we’ll let the photos speak for themselves, and bid you all a good afternoon,” Tami answered, rising from her spot behind the mic and leaving the press room with a brief wave, while Bryce followed a few steps behind.
Tami had no idea how Bryce did it. It was a world away from what she’d known. But she couldn’t help but think of how proud her parents would be of her. She’d just wrapped up a meeting with her manager. Her very own manager.
What a difference six months could make. Sure, she missed the simplicity of just her on that court, hitting balls, but man, did the dream live up to the hype. She just hoped that it wouldn’t evaporate. Her manager was adamant about putting her name in for consideration in more tournaments, even though so many of the deadlines were closed. “It never hurts to try, Tami.”
That was like the broken record message of her life. But for once, saying yes had been a good thing. It had gotten her this far. It had gotten her Bryce. She could certainly say yes more often. When the elevator arrived, she stepped aside to let out the throngs cramped within. There was a match on the main court, so she assumed everyone was headed that way.
She and Bryce were playing tonight, so now it was time to get a massage, and then they’d head to the courts to warm up.
“Hey, can you hold the elevator, please?”
She frowned but pushed the Open button. Why was that voice so familiar? When she caught a glimpse of the speaker, her heart tripped, and her skin flushed too hot.
Michael blinked twice, then smirked. “Well, well. If it’s not the phenom, Tami Ivey.”
Tami was too frozen to move, too frozen to speak, so she just stared while he pushed the button to his floor.
“You know, I hear your name so many times a day now, it’s funny. I like how you’ve reinvented yourself. No more poor girl from the wrong side of the San Diego tracks.”
The anger that sat like a ball in her gut thawed out her jaw muscles. “Nice face. It’s funny how the mind plays tricks on you. I always remembered you as good looking. Funny how women can see past ugly, when someone is as charming as a snake.”
His gaze narrowed. “Still have that acerbic tongue, I see. Maybe we would have lasted longer if you hadn’t been such a bitch.”
Her hand twitched with the urge to slap him, but seeing as someone who could clearly apply more force had already gotten to him, she restrained herself. “I think your wife would have objected, though.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Tami. You can’t still be mad about that. So I didn’t mention I was engaged. Did you really think I could want you? You were an easy lay. Matter of fact, I told your loverboy that. Thought he’d want to know that you were after the Coulter funds.” He gestured to his face. “I got this for my efforts.”
Bryce had done that to Michael? A part of her that she despised was glad. Very glad. But the part of her that insisted she could fight her own battles wasn’t so happy. She was even more pissed that he hadn’t said a damn word to her. “I'm sure it was well deserved.” she muttered, too numb to think of anything else to say. Why wouldn’t he warn her that Michael was here, that he’d seen him? That he’d hit him.
“You know, I’d sue the family if it didn’t mean the old man would be pissed at me. He’s been trying to do a deal with Legacy to co-sponsor a bunch of athletes, so rest assured your gold is still there. Besides, Rory Coulter would be pretty livid, and I don’t want to be on that man’s bad side. But if you touched me, like you're so clearly dying to do, I’d have no problem suing the hell out of you. You think your boyfriend would come to your rescue, then?”
Rory had done t
his? Asked Michael to talk to Bryce? She swallowed hard.
When the elevator stopped, Michael grinned maliciously at her. “You ask me, you two deserve each other. I wonder how he’ll feel when you see your chance and you ditch him. You and I both know that’s where you’re headed. Or maybe he'll ditch you first. It might surprise you to know that I’m team Tami. Especially after this shiner. Not to worry, though, I’ll be pretty again in no time.”
Tami stared after him, rage and sadness flowing through her veins. She and Bryce were long overdue for a conversation.
Bryce heard the key card engaging, and smiled as he finished his smoothie. “Hey, baby. I thought I’d have to finish your —” He frowned. “What’s the matter? Are you feeling okay?”
Tami tossed her key onto the dresser. “Bryce?”
“Babe, you’re scaring me. You look sick, or like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”
He could see the shimmer in her eyes and he wanted to hold her, but the cool distance in her voice prevented him from doing that.
“Yesterday, when you were icing your hand? Why was that?”
Shit. He didn’t want to lie to her. But he didn’t want her worrying about that Michael douchebag, either. No lying. Not to her. “I hurt it.” He cleared his throat. “On someone’s face.”
Her eyes rounded. “On whose face?”
She knew. “Since you’re asking about it, I assume Gramps told you. Look, I didn’t go looking for the fight, but he approached me and was talking shit and the things he was saying I just—”
She sank onto the edge of the bed. “So it was true, your grandfather put him up to it?”
Wait, what the hell was going on here? “Gramps didn't tell you?”
“No.” Tami shook her head, her dark, thick hair swishing over her shoulders. “Michael did.”
The injection of fury into his blood was hot and quick like a flash flood. “That fucker talked to you?”
“I had the misfortune of running into him on an elevator.”
“I'm going to kill him.”
“You will do no such thing, Bryce. We have a match tonight. You put everything in jeopardy by hitting him. What if you really hurt yourself? You finally have your chance on this stage again, and you threw that away for nothing.”
Was she kidding him right now? “Are you serious? I didn’t throw anything away. You weren’t there, you didn’t hear what he was saying. He’s an ass. And by the way, I’m still pretty pissed off you ever compared me to that douchebag.”
“There was never any comparison, Bryce. Is that why you did it? Jealousy or whatever? Because that’s ridiculous.”
“I’m not jealous of that guy. He has nothing I want or envy. I wouldn’t go back to being considered like him for every penny in my trust fund.”
“Bryce, you’re missing the point. Did you stop to think of what would happen if you hurt your hand? Or what if he pressed charges?”
“He was never going to press charges. Gramps put him up to it. And I’ve been doing a little Googling on the jackass. His father cut him off two years ago, and his wife left him—took him for half of his trust fund—so he’ll want to stay on Gramps’ good side. He won’t be coming after me.”
“Are you listening to yourself? Bryce, you can’t go around losing your shit because some asshole says something about me. You’d do nothing but fight all day. There were two players who said that my story is just like Cinderella, and how I must have played all my cards right. Are you gonna go after them, too?” she asked.
“Of course not, but—”
“And every single one of those reporters who brings up that I worked at Legacy, and that you swept me off my feet. They suggest I had a magic snatch. Tell me, Bryce? Just how magical is my vajayjay? And their implications that I’m with you for the name alone; you going to hit them, too?”
“Tami, this is fucking different and you know it.”
“No, it’s not. The point is, I’ve never asked you to fight my battles for me. I do not need saving. I never did.” She dragged in ragged breaths. “I am strong. I don’t need anybody.”
“And that's the crux of it, isn’t it? You don’t need me at all. Hell, I would bend over to give you the world, and you don’t want me to.”
“I want to earn it. Damn it, Bryce. I don’t need a knight. I need a partner. I’m not in the castle tower waiting to be saved. I’m on the field wielding a sword. Why can’t you see that?”
“Fuck, Tami, I have been right there with you, for months, handing you sharper, more deadly swords. Why can’t you see that? I don’t want to fix you, or rescue you. Maybe at first I did, before I knew you. But can’t you see that you were saving me? I wouldn't be here without you. I was in a hole of depression and fucked-up darkness before I saw you that day. The pressure building in on me was killing me.”
Tears spilled from her eyes onto her cheeks. “Then why would you risk it for something stupid?”
“Because the fucker called the woman I love a whore. I wasn’t being your knight. I was doling out a little payback for the old Tami who couldn’t fight back.” Oh shit, did he just fucking say that? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She was going to bolt.
“Wh-what did you say?”
“I’m in love with you.” He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “I have been since you called me Pretty Boy, and told me to get out of your way. Probably since you hit that serve right at my face through the fence.”
“I—I—”
The knock at the door broke though their tension.
She wasn’t going to say it back. He could see it in her eyes. The fear. The urge to flee. “I’ll get it. Why don’t you get cleaned up?”
She sniffed and wiped at the tears on her face before heading for the bathroom.
He opened the door for the masseuse with a wooden smile. He’d fucked up. He just had no idea if it would cost him Tami or not.
Thirty-One
That afternoon, there was a crowd of press waiting outside the locker room doors. Tami and Bryce pushed through, refusing to comment on their opponents or the match at hand. They were up against a brother-and-sister team from Germany, who had won the title three years running, and if it weren’t for the sensation of Bryce’s return from such a high-profile injury the year before, no one would be paying attention to their match. He hated to admit it, but the attention was starting to get to him.
As they stepped onto the court, Bryce looked up to the family box to see it was full—even Dax and Gramps and Gram were there. He saw Tami look to see them there and his heart squeezed. She’d never see her parents sitting there to watch her. No doubt they would have more open expressions of awe and pride on their faces to see how far their daughter had come—as opposed to most of the members of his family who remained eerily calm and aloof, immune to the pomp of their surroundings. His father spotted him and gave him an encouraging grin. But then it was time to begin the match.
They were evenly matched with their German opponents, and they pushed it to a tiebreak in the third set before the Germans finished them off, 6-7, 7-6, 17-15. Tami and Bryce had the crowd on their side through the whole match, but their synchronization wasn’t enough to beat the sibling pair who’d been playing and competing together for more than ten years.
And to be honest, he and Tami were off today. It was all his fault for dropping the bomb on her.
As they walked off the court to clean up quickly before facing the press, the sold-out crowd gave them a standing ovation.
They changed in silence, a little deflated. They had been so close. They hadn’t expected to get anywhere near as far as they did, and despite their best efforts not to get their hopes up, losing like that—especially so narrowly—stung. When they had wiped themselves down and changed into fresh clothes, they paused for a moment before the door that would lead them to the press.
“Are you ready?” Tami asked. Her voice was soft and sad.
“No, but it won’t get any better waiting back here,
delaying the inevitable,” Bryce admitted.
“Then let’s do this.” She took his hand and pushed open the door, and they both kept their eyes forward to avoid being blinded by the flashbulbs.
The tenor of the questions was more subdued than prior to the match—for obvious reasons—but several of the questions remained the same. They reiterated most of their earlier points, while praising the skill of their opponents.
“Ten months of practicing together and working on the physical rehab for my knee couldn’t top the years they’ve put into perfecting their game,” Bryce remarked with a shrug. “We’ll just have to get better and hope there’ll be a next time.”
“How does the knee feel?”
“It feels a hell of a lot better than it did at this point last year,” Bryce joked, and the gathered reporters laughed.
He had a momentary flashback to the previous year, and the impact of his body hitting the court after tearing those ligaments. There had been no press interview like this one after that match—just a harrowing ride to the emergency room and then cold exam tables, lying still while machines whirred around his head. Tami squeezed his hand beneath the table and brought him back to the present—her hand was warm in his, palm to palm.
God, he loved her.
He knew there was one way to get the press to stop asking about their relationship, to stop bringing up his knee injury—well, not altogether, but to give them a new angle on it. But he’d left the ring behind in his duffel bag, and besides, it wasn’t a moment he wanted to have in front of a room full of strangers—Tami wouldn’t appreciate being blindsided like that.
“It probably sounds strange,” Bryce continued, silencing the reporters’ next questions before they could ask them. “But as awful and upsetting as that injury was, this last year has undoubtedly been one of the best and most important of my life. I know it’s kind of cliché, but if it weren’t for facing the possibility of never playing again, I don’t think I would have realized just how important tennis is in my life. I might not be able to do what I could before, but as long as I can play, I’ll be okay. It’s a part of who I am, and it’s brought a lot of important people into my life—including Tami,” he finished, leaning over and kissing the side of her head.
