She let out a breath that shook and gave me another version of that fake smile.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
She shrugged, but it was mechanical. “Nothing. I’m good.”
“What did he say to you?”
Her brows pulled in. “Who?”
“Colt.”
Her eyes flicked away before they snapped back. “What…what do you mean?”
“I saw him talking to you after the game. Something changed. You’ve been off since then.”
She tugged her hands from mine and folded them into her lap. “I know.”
“El.” I kept my voice steady. “Tell me.”
“You’re coming off a win. Everything’s good right now. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
“No. We’re doing this now.”
She stood, brushed past me, and rubbed her hands over her jeans. “I should go home.”
“Ellie.”
She stopped but didn’t turn around.
“What did he say?”
“He didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.”
“Like what?”
She spun to face me. “That I should walk away if I’m not in this.”
I swore under my breath. Of course he did. My silent, passive-aggressive brother waited until one of the biggest days of my career to say something that would screw everything up.
I stood. “And are you not in it?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice cracked, and she rubbed her temples like it might help her brain catch up. “I don’t fucking know. It’s too real.”
“It’s not too real. It’s just real.”
She started pacing. “It is! It is real, and that’s exactly the issue. I thought for a second it would be fine, but then your brother comes in and tells me to walk away, and now, I don’t know anymore.”
She stopped at the kitchen counter, both palms braced against it, facing me, but her eyes were glued to the floor.
“I think it's better if we start pulling back now.” Her voice cracked, and she gripped the counter tighter. “Before it gets…harder.”
I was across the room, but it felt like miles. Every instinct screamed at me to go to her, to pry her hands from that counter and make her look at me, really look at me. Instead, I stayed frozen in place.
“Harder for who?” The question came out harsher than I meant, desperation bleeding through the edges. “You think I can just turn this off because a date on the calendar says so?”
For a second, I thought she might bolt—I could see it in the way her weight shifted, ready to flee. But she stayed, rooted to that spot, still refusing to meet my eyes.
“I don't know what this is anymore, Sawyer.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I don't know what we are. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it was never anything but convenient.”
