She nods. Too fast, almost without registering my question. “Yeah.”
That’s it.
I study her face, taking in the tightness around her eyes. The way exhaustion starts to weigh down on her.
“You sure?” I press.
“Yes,” she says again. It’s firm this time. Almost defensive.
Sasha comes around the bar. She thanks her for coming in to help and lets her know she can take off. There’s not much left for her to tackle, so she offers to take care of it so Brinley can go.
Brinley heads down the hallway toward the back room. Sasha looks at me once we’re alone.
“Is she okay?”
I nod. “She will be.”
I turn to follow her. The hallway leading to the back room is dimmer, quieter now. I find her standing with her hand braced on the counter, staring at nothing.
She doesn’t even hear me approaching when I step behind her, pressing my chest against her back. I’m not doing it to cage her in, but I want her to feel my presence when I ask her my next question.
“When were you plannin’ on telling me your father is my coach?”
She freezes, every muscle in her body locking at once.
She turns slowly, her eyes searching my face. “You know?” Her throat moves as she swallows. “How?”
I shrug, keeping my tone even. “Is that what you want to talk about right now?”
She watches me for a second longer, then gives a small shrug of her own.
I nod once. “Wren said she saw you storming out of his office earlier.”
Her shoulders sag, and all the fight drains out of her all at once. “I didn’t want you to find out from someone else. I was gonna tell you, I swear.” She exhales, rubbing her temples. “I haven’t known for long myself. It wasn’t until I was trying to enroll in classes that my name was flagged, and I started piecing the details together. It still doesn’t even feel real.”
“And then?” I ask.
“And then… it did,” she murmurs. “And by then… you and I were already happening.”
Something twists in my chest.
“I didn’t plan on this,” she adds quickly. “Any of it. Not you. Not this. I wasn’t trying to get close to you or—”
“Brinley.” I cut her off. “I know you didn’t.”
She looks at me like she doesn’t quite believe me.
“I was the one who initially approached you, remember? I just wish you had told me. That you could trust me with it, even if it’s a secret,” I say. “That’s all.”
“I know,” she whispers. “When I realized who you were, though, I should’ve told you. I just… I didn’t want it to change things between us.”
I hold her gaze. “This changes nothing between us.”
There’s more she doesn’t want to say. I can see it written on her face, beneath the weight of the secret and the hurt. My instinct is to push her, to get to the bottom of this. I want to help fix whatever is breaking her from the inside out.
But she shakes her head before I can utter another word.
“I don’t want to do this right now,” she says. “It’s been a long day. I’m exhausted, and I want to get out of here.”
