That throws me for a fucking loop. “What?”
“At the hospital. He wants you to visit him.”
I blink. “For what?”
David shrugs. “He didn’t say.”
I stare at the wall for a second, trying to make sense of it.
Tyson McRae doesn’t do important. He does messy. Petty. Calculated. The type of man who’d rather burn the whole field than admit he lost the game.
So what the hell is this?
My instincts scream don’t go—but my pride won’t let me ignore it either. He’s playing a game, but I haven’t determined what kind yet.
David adds, “You’re not obligated to go. I’m only passing along his request.”
I nod, pushing back from the chair.
“Appreciate the heads-up.”
I walk out, heart pounding harder than it did during drills.
This has trap written all over it. But if this has anything to do with Magnolia—if his reach even grazes her—I have to know. I need to look him in the eye and figure out what kind of game he’s playing. Whether this is revenge or something worse. Whether I’m keeping it between me and him… or dragging it into the light.
Either way, I won’t let him get near her again.
A nurse points me down the corridor to his room. I knock once, don’t wait for a reply, and step inside.
The light is low—a dusty stripe of sun slanting in through half-closed blinds. Tyson’s propped up, face pale, leg wrapped and elevated in a traction sling. He looks like hell. Worse than I expected.
For half a second, I almost pity him. And then I remember lying in a bed with my own leg shredded, all thanks to him.
I bury the sympathy before it has a chance to surface.
He opens one eye when I enter. The corner of his mouth curves up, slow and mean.
“Well, would you look at that? Come to admire your handiwork?”
I won’t rise to it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He lets out a low, dry chuckle. “Sure you don’t.”
Silence stretches.
“It must’ve been satisfying. Hearing the snap and watching me go down.”
I stay quiet, letting him fill the space. I’m not giving him anything he can twist.
Tyson narrows his eyes. “Jesus. You believe I’m recording this?”
I arch a brow. “With you, I wouldn’t rule anything out.”
He smirks. “Relax. No cameras. No lawyers. Just two former teammates.”
I shift my weight but stay near the door. Not close. Not friendly. But present.
“Talk. You asked me here. Say what you want to say.”
