Page 80 of Break Out

There’s no way we can make this work. But he’s right—I do care for him as more than a best friend. But our lives are on different paths. Maybe if we’d figured this out five or ten years ago, things would be different, but now… now there’s nothing either of us can do besides continue on the paths we’re on. Me to Hawaii. And him, hopefully back to the Storm. He’ll forget about all this once the season starts. I’m sure of it. He thinks he wants me now because we’ve been together nonstop. Because we crossed so many lines.

Chapter thirty-two

Brody

My chest is tight as I finish packing. I know what I did earlier probably wasn’t the smartest move, but I couldn’t help myself. I’d hoped that if Aubrey saw what she does to me, if she admitted to me and herself what she feels for me, maybe we could talk.

I don’t want this to end.

I know we have to go back to reality and make some decisions about us, but I’d hoped she would be open to talking through things. I don’t expect her to give up her job opportunity for me. I would never ask her to do that.

I’m in over my head. How do I make Aubrey see that I will do whatever it takes to be with her? I zip up my suitcase, wheel it into the living room, and take a seat on the couch. She’s still packing, which gives me a few minutes to ask for help.

Taking a deep breath and silently praying I don’t regret this, I pull out my phone, open the group chat, and type a message.

Me: First of all, if any of you say I told you so, I’ll never speak to you again. But I’ve got a problem. A relationship problem.

I set my phone down and wait with bated breath for a response.

I groan silently, tipping my head back against the couch, imagining the guys giving me shit from now until the end of time when I admit that we were faking it. They’ll never let me hear the end of it when they find that out. Aubrey’s smiling face comes to mind, and I decide that whatever shit they give me is worth it for her. If I get to call her mine at the end of the day, it’s worth it. When my phone dings, I open my eyes and pick it up. Hunter is the first to answer.

Hunter: What’s going on? Finally get your head out of your ass and realize you’re in love with Aubrey?

I chuckle before typing back a simple yes.

Wes: So what’s the problem, Brod? Tell her.

Me: She’s moving to Hawaii for a job. She’s convinced that we’re done. That we can’t work.

Wes: Tell her you love her and that you’re going with her. That’s what you’re planning to do, right? I assume that’s the reason you haven’t signed your contract.

Me: I tried to tell her that, well the part about going with her. It didn’t go well. I don’t think she believes me. Also, how’d you know that?

Wes: I hear things.

Before I can reply, Aubrey walks into the room, pulling her suitcase behind her, her overnight bag slung over her shoulder.

“Ready?” she asks, offering me a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah. Our car is here.”

I give the suite one last look before closing the door behind me. The clicking of the lock feels like the symbolic closing of the door to any relationship, outside of friendship, Aubrey and I could have.

I ignore that thought, choosing to believe that we’ll figure things out. We’re silent on the ride down on the elevator. I don’t like it, but I don’t know how to break the silence. I don’t know how to fix the weirdness that seems to have come between us. The last thing I wanted was for things between us to get weird.

It’s not until we’re seated next to each other on our flight to Orlando that Aubrey finally speaks up. She leans closer to me and says, “I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

I turn to face her and notice she’s staring at the floor.

“I don’t want that either.” I put my hand on her arm. “Look at me, Aubs. Please.” The last word comes out in a whisper. I watch her contemplate my request, and I start to wonder if she’s going to ignore it, but she finally turns to look up at me.

“There’s no reason for things to be awkward between us. There’s also no reason for things to end between us.” She opens her mouth to say something, likely another protest, but I hold up my hand, and she closes her mouth and gestures for me to continue. “Let’s do what we said and talk about this when we get back to my place.”

Is that what I wanted to say? No, of course not. But the flight is not the time nor the place to have the discussion we need to have. She nods and stares out the window. I try to relax, taking a sip of the coffee that the steward set in front of me a little while ago.

The flight is uneventful, and before I know it, we’re descending into Orlando International Airport. Shockingly, by the time we arrive at the baggage claim, all the luggage from our flight is already coming down.

“First time for everything,” I mutter, grabbing first my suitcase and then Aubrey’s. “A car is waiting for us,” I say, directing her through the sliding glass doors and out into the arrivals pickup area.