Page 30 of Match Point

“The kid’s right. She’s a stickler for obeying the law. She’s also big on first aid. The icepack will keep the swelling down until we can get you to the hospital,” Leo said.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” The panic was back, this time with more desperation. What horrible things had this poor child been through?

The tears continued to press at the back of her eyes, but she couldn’t let them fall.

Leo sat cross-legged on the cement and palmed the plastic bag. He held up his hand and showed it to the boy, pointing to the scars that crisscrossed his hand. “When I first came to live with Grams, I hated it. I was a few years older than you and I’d been in a few foster homes by then. I hated all of them.”

Sorcha curled her nails into her palms, using the sting to ground her mind. She couldn’t react to his story; he wouldn’t appreciate it any more now than he had on the mountain when he’d first talked about his father’s death.

“I decided to run away. I stockpiled food and spent the entire season picking blackberries to sell at the rancher’s market. As you can see, blackberry bushes were brutal on my hands. Once the season was over, I realized I didn’t want to leave. Then the social worker had made an inquiry once she saw them and I was afraid they’d take me from Grams.”

“But you stayed with Grams.”

Sorcha could see the appeal. There was something peaceful about this place and the people who lived here. This boy had found a home, and home was a powerful pull. Except she no longer had a home. She’d lived out of hotel rooms for so long, it was natural to stay in one during her off times as well. For all intents and purposes, she was homeless, but even in that state, she was privileged. Her hardships were a walk in the park compared to the man and the boy before her.

Leo nodded, the gentleness of his smile soothing. “Yes, I did. Grams will be asking questions about your arm and you’ll tell the truth. You were hit with a tennis ball served by a world-class tennis player.”

The words were flattering but overblown in her mind. She used to be all those things and she would be once more, but she had to work harder for it.

The kid lowered the hand that covered his wounded arm. A blood-red bruise marred the pale skin of his upper arm and spread under his shirt. She winced at the injury, guilt weighing down her heart.

“Getting hit by the tennis ball was an accident. Nobody will blame you.” And she’d do anything in her power to make sure he didn’t suffer for her carelessness. “I feel really terrible. Will you put the cold pack on, and I’ll take you to the house to see Grams? I bet she’ll give us cookies.”

Sorcha wanted to cuddle his frail body and assure him everything would be okay, but she couldn’t do that. Nobody could.

He flashed a shy smile. Dried tears cut through the dirt on his cheeks. “Leo said you can’t have any cookies.”

“Leo says a lot of things.” She dared not look at Leo, but stood, holding her hand out for the boy. He allowed his fingers to rest in hers and she helped him up. Pressing the icepack to his bicep, she leaned down and whispered, “What Leo doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and Grams makes the best cookies ever.”

“She does.”

“Tucker and I will meet you back at the house. We need to sit down and review the footage from today and see what we need to work on,” Leo said, his voice low and thoughtful. Sharing such a personal story couldn’t be easy. There was so much more about him she didn’t know, and she wanted to learn.

It wasn’t her place. He was her manager, not her friend.

A painful truth.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Leo adjusted his computer screen and leaned back in the chair of the media room. He’d set up cameras on the court to record Sorcha’s workouts and the feed broadcast on the big screen from the Bluetooth on his laptop.

While Tucker and Sorcha watched on the projector screen, he found himself becoming distracted by the way her thighs bunched as she moved. Her legs were long and muscular, the same legs that had wrapped around his waist at the gay bar. Watching her footage was turning out to be a form of porn for him. How pathetic.

A smile curled his lips at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Sorcha asked.

“Nothing,” Leo said, fighting the blush rising to his cheeks. She’d caught him lusting after her, not his finest moment.

“Everybody who says that is lying. Something made you laugh, otherwise you wouldn’t be laughing.”

“I was thinking about something someone said. Not everything is about you.” Don’t look at her or she’ll know you’re lying.

“He’s probably laughing at that last serve,” Tucker said. “It was a joke.”

“Great, now you’re taking his side.” Sorcha crossed her arms, the action pushing her breasts forward. She leaned forward and squinted at the computer screen.

The faint floral scent he’d come to associate with her wafted to Leo’s nose and he inhaled against his better judgement. “I’m watching the same thing you are.”

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