Page 78 of The Wrong Promise

Oh fuck.

He falls awkwardly, the opponent’s foot lands on his, then his ankle twists. I grimace and groan for him. The crowd gasps loudly, a collective, “Oh.”

Byron shouts out in pain as he grabs at his foot, slamming his hand onto the hardwood.

“Fuck, this is not good.” Charlotte grabs my arm, concern etched into her face.

“Nooo,” she whimpers. “Not Byron.”

I stop breathing as we wait.

My parents and Franklin are out of their seats.

The umpire blows his whistle to stop the game. Byron scrambles backward to get off the court holding his leg out straight. The doctor runs around the court and drops to his knees.

Franklin turns and looks at our father then at Charlotte. “You need to be the one to go to him,” he tells her. She nods and heads down the stairs toward the tunnel leading to the medical room. Byron is carried off the court, and as he approaches the tunnel, the journalists surround him, cameras flashing in his face.

For the next ten minutes, we watch the game, anxiously awaiting Charlotte’s return. It’s the beginning of the last quarter when she does, leans across the seat to Franklin, and shakes her head, speaking to him in a low voice. She takes her seat next to me and speaks to our parents first before turning to me.

“It’s not good. He has asked the doctor to tape his ankle so he can come out and finish the game only the doctor has decided to send him for an MRI.”

“Wise doctor.”

She nods at me. “It’s more than a basic sprain.”

“Fuck,” I say under my breath, knowing how much the game means to my brother. The air has changed as fear lingers with what will happen now. The team gets the win, yet no one feels like celebrating the victory.

I send a text to Zara.

Hey, I need to stay in LA until the weekend. Byron has suffered an injury on the court, and there is a chance he’ll need surgery so it’s best I remain here until we know more.

I miss you already.

For the next few days,I work from my LA office and text Zara daily. Unfortunately, Byron didn’t receive good news and had surgery on his ankle today.

When we receive the okay from the orthopedic surgeon, I drive to the hospital with Franklin and my parents. Charlotte is already there by his side. The nurse directs us into the room, and my parents stride ahead of Franklin and me. Mom has not let go of Dad’s hand in the last hour. She has maintained a brave expression, but I know how she is hurting and worried for her son.

I want to tell her that Byron will recover. He is strong and determined and has the Hendricks genes. She already knows this, and yet the moment we enter his room and find him hunched over a bowl vomiting his guts up, I realize his journey is harder than I assumed.

The jet arrivesin London early Monday morning, so I head straight to my new office, and the entire morning is filled with meeting after meeting.

I attempt to tick off the shitload of emails waiting for me. Most of the staff has returned to work. Lydia has been promoted to succeed Gretchen when she leaves and is currently in training as my executive assistant. A man can’t focus when he knows there is someone in the building, and he needs her right now.

I press the call button on my call box.

“Yes, Mr. Hendricks?”

“Lydia, could you please have Ms. Hart come to my office? There is an HR issue I need to discuss.”

“Of course, sir.”

I wait for her by my office window and stare out to the city surrounding me. It’s a city so different from LA, and yetit is growing on me. Despite the financial opportunities and real estate investments, being here with Zara feels right, and I’m making excuses why I want to return more often in the future than the business requires.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Zara walks in, turning to close the door behind her. I’m first drawn to her long legs in black pants and her tight rounded ass.Focus.Her perfect breasts are covered with a pink blouse and a black suit jacket. Classy.

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