Page 78 of Set Play

Her head appears to have avoided serious injury, but her face and arms are covered in bruises. My eyes fall to her left forearm, which has been bandaged, before zeroing in on her ribs. On the wrap that’s visible through the thin hospital gown. Every detail scorches its way through my blood to etch itself into my memory until I can see them with my eyes closed. Until I can see Henri’s fucking face as he stands there, useless, while she falls.

Over and over again.

Clenching my jaw against my rising desire to track him down, I take a deep breath and turn to face the door.

She’s alive. Bruises and scratches heal. Focus on her.

Through the fury, I barely notice Niamh taking the flowers from me and moving to sit beside her best friend, but her voice slowly filters into my awareness as she explains everything that’s happened since they hung up.

Élise is staring at me; I feel the heat of her gaze on the side of my face, but I can’t look at her. Not right now. Not when I’m barely holding myself together. Not when one more look at her perfect skin mottled with bruises might send me over the edge.

However, just then the door opens and in walks the doctor, followed by the one person I hoped not to see. Fucking Henri.

Damnit, I should’ve looked at Élise.

“You sure are one popular patient, Ms. Clément. Your brother is here to visit you as well.”

Élise

Well…this is uncomfortable.

After explaining the full extent of my injuries to my “family,” the doctor left, and no one has spoken since. The emotions wafting from each of my visitors are suffocating, filling the air with tension thick enough to cut. Their feelings are understandable. Well, some of them.

My best friend has gone into Momma Bear mode, fretting over every little thing I could possibly need, while Mateo has entered a weird avenging statue-type mode. He’s done nothing but glare at me as though he might intimidate the injuries into healing faster while ignoring my third visitor.

Henri.

When my brother first came in, he genuinely looked distraught over my condition, but the second he clocked Mateo’s presence, his eyes hardened to stone, devoid of any warmth and only radiating betrayal. He’s spent the entire time shooting daggers at the rest of us in rotation.

I’m fucking done with this shit.

I try to sit up, ready to yell at Henri, but I cry out from the blaring pain in my ribs. Mateo steps towards me, but Niamh is already there, helping me into my intended position. A smile of thanks tugs at my lips but is smothered when a derisive scoff draws our attention to the corner that Henri has claimed.

His eyes jump from the flowers on the bedside table up to my face before he opens his mouth to say his first words since arriving. “Que font-ils ici? Pourquoi l'as-tu appelé?2”

I stare at Henri dumbfounded, scanning his face for any sign of the brother I adore. Is that seriously the first thing he says to me after everything that’s happened?

“You’re joking, right? I fell down a flight of fucking stairs, Henri. The doctor literally just told you that I have two minorly cracked ribs, a gash on my left forearm that needed stitches, and bruises that will last for weeks. And that’s the first thing you say? No ‘are you okay?’ or ‘I’m sorry,’ just ‘What are they doing here? Why did you call him?’ Are you fucking serious, right now?”

Mateo bristles at the translation.

Merde, I should’ve thought that through a little better.

He whirls on my brother, lightning flashing in his stormy eyes, before I even blink. “She didn’t call me, asshole. She called Niamh. I happened to be there because I went by their house to check on Élise since she’s missed the last few days. As soon as I heard what happened, I arranged for Niamh and me to come.”

Henri takes a menacing step forward, but Mateo isn’t done yet. “And did you seriously just ask what I am doing here? I feel like I need to ask you that. After all, she got hurt badly enough to need hospitalization while visiting you! It’s not bad enough that your sister shrinks her own life out of some misguided fear of disappointing you, but now she’s in the hospital because of you?”

Henri gasps, appalled that someone is daring to call him out on his shit, before objecting. “That’s not fair! You don’t even know what happened!”

The headache I’ve been trying to ignore ramps up with a vengeance at the volume of my brother’s shrill voice. In comparison, Mateo’s dark, derisive laugh is a little scary. “Oh, I know plenty. You barely tried to catch her. If you had, she wouldn’t be here right now. You’re one of the best fucking goalies in the league and you mean to tell me that you couldn’t catch your sister? Then once she did fall, did you check on her? No! You sat there and threw a fucking pity party, while your little sister had to drive who knows how far to get herself emergency help.”

“Enough,” I interject, but neither hear me. My head is throbbing and at this point, I just want to go to sleep.

As the arguing continues, I try again, raising my voice to be heard. “Please stop.”

Only Niamh seems to hear me. Henri starts throwing insults, ones I never thought he’d be the kind to say, and Mateo looks five seconds away from beating my brother into his own hospital room. “I said stop!”

My voice echoes in the silence that follows. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about your fucking rivalry right now. My head feels like it’s about to explode and your bickering isn’t fucking helping. I need you two to leave. Now.”