Page 97 of Endgame

Luke.

Son of a bitch. I’ll kill him.

Tell her, Bodhi. Tell her to leave him.

“Then let him.”Good man. “He doesn’t deserve you anyway. I still think you should talk with Cal. Does Dakota know?”

“She knows I’m not happy with him. I don’t want to burden her with my problems. She has enough to worry about right now.”

Her tears are paralyzing me.

Navy is standing with her back against the wall while her head leans forward onto Bodhi’s shoulder, resting as he soothes her. He looks like he’s in agony; his prominent stance makes his gesture look out of place, but he’s comforting her the best way he can, and that’s all I can ask for.

My sister has always put on a face of happiness, even to the ones closest to her. She gives and gives and gives until she’s left with an empty cup. It kills me. We’ve always told each other we would respect the other's choices. We’re both adults, and being coddled like a child isn’t how us Hayes kids handle our problems.

She can talk to Dakota if she doesn’t want to talk to me. Maybe I should ask Dakota to check on her. I know I won't even have to ask—she’ll be there in a heartbeat.

“Okay, it’s okay. You don’t need to explain. You can stay at the house with us tonight and figure it out tomorrow.”

Homeboy say what?

This has got to be some type of joke. Bodhi doesn’t help anyone. He stays to himself and plays ball. That’s it.

His unwavering attention to her makes my defenses rise.

I could get angry, but I can’t help feeling grateful that she has a safe place in Bodhi. He’s one of the best guys I know. Itrust he’ll keep her safe and respect the boundaries he will put in place for himself.

After all, it’s only for a night, right?

Until Navy gets the courage to leave Luke.

Until then.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

40

DAKOTA

I need a drink.Or four.

Life has been chaotic since theSports Illustratedshoot, and I’m struggling to keep up.

My mind needs a rest day, which is why I’m thanking the stars we have this weekend off.

After glancing at my office, I secure my purse and reach to turn the light off as my office phone rings, catching my attention.

That’s weird.Who would be calling me this late on a Friday night?

It’s only six—but still late for a business hour.

Shuffling to set my things down, I rush to the phone before the call ends. “Hello?”

“Hi there, is this Ms. Foster?”

“Yes, it is. May I ask who’s calling?”

Laughter follows the sweet male tone on the other line.

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