Page 146 of Colliding with Ten

She nodded and picked up the bag, looking terrified. I watched her walk into the building. Then I got back into the car and returned to the airport.

35

BREAK A LEG

AYLA

The apartment was quiet when I walked in. AJ sat in the living room, hands clasped, staring at the coffee table. Normally, he’d be watching game film. The back of my neck prickled with a bad feeling. Maybe it was because I knew I had to tell AJ about Lennox. I just hoped he’d understand. I had the words. Not good ones, but words, and if I didn’t say them now, I’d lose my nerve.

“AJ, I need to talk to you about something.”

When he raised his head, his expression stopped me in my tracks. I’d seen AJ angry before—frustrated after losses, irritated when I borrowed his things. This wasn’t any of those. I’d never seen this look. It was cold and bitter.

“Sit down, Ayla.”

His voice was level, but distant.

“AJ, I⁠—”

“Sit. Down.”

I sat and waited, confused. He looked at me for a long time. Dread built in my stomach: he already knew what I’d come to confess.

“So, how long have you been lying to me?”

My throat closed.

“AJ—”

“That’s not an answer.” He hadn’t moved or raised his voice. Nor had he done any of the things people do when they're angry. He was a sculpture, watching me. “How long?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“You don’t know what I think. I’m asking you a question. How long have you been seeing Lennox Monroe?”

AJ saying his name in this low, seething tone confirmed my fears. He was past fury, and I don’t know what came after that.

“A few weeks.”

“Really, because I counted two months from the time you were seen in Denver, claiming to be friends.”

“We were friends and then—” My words trailed off.

He nodded slowly, as if he were processing. As if he’d hoped he’d been wrong about this.

“Weeks,” he repeated. “While you were working on the fellowship? And being on the sidelines of all our games? While you were living in my apartment, eating my food, and sleeping under my roof.” He paused. “While you were looking me in the face every single day and lying.”

“I wasn’t lying. I just⁠—”

“What were you doing, Ayla?” His voice was still level, but it was starting to break. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re in a relationship with the quarterback of our rival team, and you decided that I, your brother, the person who has had your back since forever, didn’t deserve to know.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. Every defense I’d rehearsed—me wanting to tell him sooner and knowing our relationship took us both by surprise—sounded like what it was: excuses. I swallowed dry.

“I was trying to find the right time.”

“The right time.” He laughed without humor. “You want to know when the right time was? Any time before I got a call from the front office this morning telling me my sister was photographed outside Lennox Monroe’s house in his arms. Or before my teammates and the internet saw it. How about before my coach saw it?”

The floor tilted. “What!”