Page 29 of Match Point

“Or you make her more aware of her mistakes. Either way, she’s benefitting. I’ve known Sorcha for a long time. She’s good when she wants to be. Since Kelly died, she hasn’t wanted to be.” Grimness turned his lips down and he tapped his thumb against the chair arm.

Leo could relate given the loss of his own father, a man he’d looked up to and admired. He missed his dad every day and worried about his mother. Where was she, and was she all right? “I watched a bunch of footage from her early days. Lots of promise and a few, um, emotional outbursts.”

“You mean fits? You can say it. I’m not blind to her faults and neither is she. We dated for a while, just two horny teenagers making out behind the bleachers. She’d developed symptoms of an ulcer that summer because she held every bit of emotion inside, beating herself up for every bad swing, every missed ball.” Tucker shook his head and rested his hands on his jean-clad knees. He wore the braces over the fabric, a stark reminder of how much more healing he had to do. “Kelly used to schedule scream sessions where every time she screwed up in practice, she had to scream about it. Some days she’d lose her voice and the next day she’d focus more simply because her throat hurt from yelling.”

“Sounds like great therapy, if not a bit hard on the ears.” Leo had taken up exercise to alleviate the stress of losing his family. He’d hit the hills running once he’d come to Grams and never looked back.

“It didn’t make for a pleasant game at times. Back then, we were practice partners, and ended up being friends. I owed her dad a lot. He was a good man. He was also a great coach. My mom didn’t have much money, and he trained me in exchange for playing against Sorcha. Of course, she is beautiful, so it wasn’t too much of a chore. Except when she kicked my ass, which was almost every time. But still.” His voice had dropped, affection lacing his words.

“From what I have seen and heard, he was an excellent coach.” The fact that Sorcha had asked Tucker to be her new coach spoke well of him, too.

“The Sorcha that’s been making a stink in the past year and a half isn’t really her.” Tucker rubbed at a spot on his leg, wincing before he stopped. “The day her father was diagnosed with cancer was the first time I’d ever seen her act unprofessional on the court.”

The man had to be in pain, and it was a testament to his stamina and will that he was here right now. Leo admired him. “Then we need to get her back to a better time, and fast. She’s fallen in the ranks, has a horrible workout regime and a bad attitude. I’ve never met a lazier athlete with such raw talent,” Leo said.

“Kind of pisses you off to see her waste it.” Tucker huffed out a breath and shifted in his seat. A visible wave of pain brightened his eyes. He flexed his left hand, glaring at it.

Leo pretended not to notice. Everyone had their pride and Tucker was no different. He pulled out his phone and texted a friend, asking for the massage therapy crew to come out. Tucker would need it as much as Sorcha. “We need to sit down with her and develop a strategy for the Bellevue Invitational. She’s facing some fierce competition from athletes younger and more serious than she’s been.”

“I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of Sorcha. She’s not the spoiled and selfish person the tabloids make her out to be.”

“I wouldn’t say selfish, just self-centered. She’s the name and face of an empire and dominated the sport at one point. And if we can get her on track, she can dominate again. Hell, a woman in her late thirties is still in the top ten. My question to Sorcha is why? Why is she still playing?” He had yet to ask her that question outright.

Would she have an answer, or continue to stare him down? He could practically feel the chill of those blue eyes across the width of the court, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of acknowledging her. If he did, she might see the truth. He wanted to look at her, watch the way her body moved and remember. Remember things he had no right to recall.

But damn, he did anyway.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Toss the ball, tilt your arm, raise your shoulder, hit. She drummed the litany into her head, each move almost mechanical. Every inch of her body was aware of the man standing on the sidelines. She could hear him talking to Tucker. Self-centered. How dare he call her self-centered when he suffered from the same character flaws?

He had no clue how much the responsibility of her company rested on her shoulders. When she’d first developed the product line, it had been as a side business, but the more the Princess line sold and expanded, the greater the burden that fell to her. She was the face of the brand; her reputation sold the product in a sea of products.

As for why she still wanted to pursue her career, the answer had many layers, ones she wasn’t even sure about herself. Leo might not think she was self-aware, but the revelation ultimately rested with her. Her dad had pounded it into her head every day. But her dad was gone.

The boys raced across the pavement, hollering at each other, and pointing to the balls that littered the court.

Her biological father was alive. Over the past year, she’d considered using her name and influence to meet with Miller one on one, but something held her back. What could she say? Hi, I think I’m your daughter. Here’s my non-disclosure, can you verify this is you?

She tossed the tennis ball in the air. Tilt your arm, raise your shoulder, hit.

A scream pierced the air and Sorcha lowered the racket, her heart in her throat. She ran across the court to the kneeling boy who was holding his arm, his lips pulled back over his teeth, his hand cupping his injured arm.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” She’d hit him because she wasn’t paying attention. She knelt, hand raised to comfort him when he fell onto his bottom, scooting far away from her while raising his hand over his head. Terror marked his eyes and Sorcha halted her forward momentum, her stomach dropping. He was terrified. Of her. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

He shook his head, then buried his face in his knees, his shoulders shaking.

Leo joined her on the cement and shook his head when he met her eyes. He held a cold pack in one hand and popped the plastic inside, making the bag expand. “Do you know that Sorcha can hit a ball at 127 miles an hour? That’s faster than Grams’ car.”

The boy looked from Leo to Sorcha, wary and scared. It broke her heart. Up until this moment, she’d been aware she was with foster kids, but she’d never questioned why they were in the situation they were in. Had their parents died, or were there more deep and sinister things that had happened to them? This boy had been beaten; it didn’t take a genius to see that.

“Your arm must hurt. Can we put the ice pack on it?” she asked. Leo was right about her. She was selfish and spoiled and had no clue. Because having a clue was too hard and painful. It was easier to care about oneself. If you loved too much, it hurt.

He shook his head and bit his lip, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Please? I feel terrible. I know it must hurt. I know it would hurt big time if Grams hit me with her car going 127 miles per hour.”

“Grams doesn’t go above the speed limit. She says it’s against the law although Clark says everybody does it,” he said, a slight wobble to his voice.

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