Page 143 of Colliding with Ten

She cried. “Lennox, if they get in here, they’re going to⁠—”

She didn’t have to finish. We both knew. My vision narrowed. My jaw locked so hard I thought my teeth would crack.

“They are not getting in that room.” I didn’t recognize this menacing voice. “Do you hear me? They are not touching you. The police are close.”

Boom!

The door frame cracked more. How many more hits would it take? Ayla went silent. Her silence was worse than the screaming.

“Ayla.”

Nothing.

“Ayla, stay with me.”

She sobbed. “I’m here. I have your helmet.”

It was a souvenir from my first season as a Stallion. I pictured her ready to fight three grown men, refusing to go down without swinging. It broke me. I went dark. If they touched her, I’d find them and make them pay. Not a figure of speech, but a certainty as fundamental as the Earth’s rotation.

A few more thuds, and the door moved inward but caught on the deadbolt. One of them cursed, and the one with the sledgehammer pulled back for another swing.

Then, sirens, faint but growing. The three men froze and looked at each other. The one with the sledgehammer lowered it. The agitated one grabbed the other’s arm.

The sirens swelled. Blue lights flooded the hallway.

One of the men bolted, gone before I could track him on camera. The other two hesitated. Officers ran through the front door. I’d entered the code to unlock it remotely. The two remaining intruders didn’t get much farther before officers tackled them to the ground, knees in their backs. Cuffs snapped into place. It was like a television show, except it was my house.

“Ayla.” My voice sounded foreign. “They’re there. That’s the police. Open the door. You’re safe.”

She sobbed in relief. Standing still, she braced for the next crash that wasn’t coming.

“Ayla. Baby. Open the door. It’s over.”

Finally, she unlocked the deadbolt. The damaged door buckled as it opened. Officers rushed into the bedroom. She shook, holding the football helmet at her side. Then her legs gave out. One of the officers caught her before she hit the ground.

I sagged, bracing a hand against the concrete wall as the adrenaline crashed. Eyes closed, forehead pressed to the wall, I exhaled in relief. After the break-ins started, I thought I was safe. I kept valuables in a vault, but without thinking, I’d left the most valuable person to me unprotected. This was on me.

“Hold on,” I whispered into the phone, though she couldn’t hear me. “I’m coming home.”

The wall was chilly against my forehead. My heart raced, my hands still shaking. Above me, the crowd roared, snapping me back to the present. Halftime was winding down. Familiar footsteps approached behind me. I wasn’t ready to talk, but I couldn’t avoid this.

“Monroe.”

Without turning, I recognized Coach Reeves’ voice. I waited to get my face under control before I pushed off the wall and turned.

Coach Reeves studied me. He tucked his clipboard under one arm, the other propped akimbo.

“Halftime’s done. We need to be on the field.”

The crowd above us swelled with anticipation. I nodded, but I couldn’t move.

Coach took a closer step. “Talk to me. What happened?”

Pressing my tongue to the back of my teeth, I tried to find the words in the right order. “My house got broken into by three men.”

His brows pulled together. “You serious?”

“Yeah.”