“Yeah, bound to get a few bumps during training. It’s nothing compared to the real thing.”
The breath left my body as I was forcibly reminded of what Zane actually did. I knew. I knew he was a fighter. I knew he could be injured. He probably would get injured. I doubted anyone left an event like that unscathed. What was I doing? What was I thinking? I couldn’t do this. How could I have not learned this lesson yet?
When I watched Alex race, it hadn’t been the least bit enjoyable. I’d spent the entire time with my heart in my throat. I couldn’t go through my life wondering what the hell might happen to Zane from moment to moment. That was even assuming he had any interest in me anymore at all.
~ * ~ * ~
Zane
Jo bit her lip. “Well, I wanted to stop by. I wanted to tell you I was sorry about how everything went. I didn’t mean for it to be quite that way. So, I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t here because she wanted to see me at all. She was here for some kind of closure she needed for herself. A lead weight settled in my chest. I searched for the words that might change her mind. The only ones I could find were, “I love you, Jo.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say a word.
“I love you, Jo.” The words tripped off my tongue more easily this time. “Stay. Give us a chance.”
“I—” Jo swallowed. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
“Why are you here? Why did you come here?” Anger seeped into my voice.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, maybe you should come back when you figure it out.” I turned my back on her and walked away. I didn’t stop walking until I heard the echo of the door opening. When it clicked shut, I knew she was gone.
Chapter 12
Jo
The new housekeeper opened the door. I didn’t know her name, but she obviously knew me.
“Your mother is in the library.” The woman had a pleasant smile, but her manner was reserved, as my mother preferred.
I almost rolled my eyes. The library. It was an office where my father used to work when he brought things home. When I saw it last, my mother hadn’t changed a thing since my father’s death. I suppose you could get away with calling it a library. The whole apartment was like that—stuffy and formal. White walls. Crown molding. Furniture that didn’t look like you should sit on it.
The thick carpet muffled my steps. I peeked in the doorway. My mother was arranging flowers in a vase. I was glad she didn’t go for the fake stuff because that was just tacky. I knew one of her disappointments was that I hadn’t inherited her sense of style.
“Mom?”
She turned, and a genuine smile of welcome appeared on her face. “Jo, you didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“I had a doctor’s appointment.” I’d spent a week in the Hamptons, but it hadn’t done much to clear my mind.
A cloud passed over my mother’s face. “What did he have to say?”
“Ankle’s good. No permanent damage. He suggested I baby it a bit longer and start with light stretching.”
“That is such good news. I’m so relieved. Will you play in the China Open?” my mother asked.
“No, it’s too soon. Season ends in November, so I’m going to rest up and then train hard for the Australian Open. I’ll play in Brisbane as a warm-up.”
“Your sister’s going to Stanford.”
A smile split my face. “She is? That’s terrific. Miri must be so excited.” Stanford’s tennis program was excellent. Miri loved tennis like I did, but I knew she wanted to pursue her academics as well.
My mother smiled. “She’s over the moon. It’s what she wanted.”
I’d gone a different route than my sister, hitting the junior tournaments and trying to qualify for major events as soon as I met the age requirements. When I wasn’t at the tennis academy, I’d fit in schooling with a tutor. My mother hadn’t thought it was healthy for a teenager to travel and play so much. She worried about the stress, but I’d been insistent and my father had supported me.
My sister was a good player, but she also loved to study and learn. Though she was talented, she limited her play to a few tournaments.
“If you win in Australia, will that make you number one?”
I shrugged. “Probably not. I’ll miss too many tournaments with this ankle.”
“That’s true, but a win at the US Open.” My mother looked wistful. “I wish your father could have seen it. He would have been so proud.”
“Yeah.” As a test pilot, my father was a risk taker, and I suppose I got my guts from him. He could have stayed in the office, but he wasn’t content to do that.