Page 137 of Colliding with Ten

“Okay.”

I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear to see her face better. I squeezed her hand and kissed it. Each time I left, saying goodbye got harder.

In the lobby, Jace stood with the bags, talking to Mateo. He looked at Ayla, and something passed between them before he gave her a quick hug. The guys grabbed the bags. I kissed her hands again and started towards the door behind them.

At the exit, I turned back to her. She stood in the middle of the lobby, watching me. I couldn't leave her like this. I crossed back to her, palmed her face, and kissed her. It was careful, because my head still ached. She kissed me back, one hand on my chest, the other curling around my neck. When I pulled back, she kept her eyes closed. Looking at her, I could hardly bear to walk away.

“Get home safe.”

“You too. And Lennox⁠—”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

I looked at her. As if I’d had a choice. As if there’d been any chance of me walking away.

“California?”

She smiled and nodded. I left and got in the waiting SUV. Jace sat beside me, and Mateo sat behind us. As the SUV pulled out of the lot and onto the street, I didn’t look back because if I did, I wasn’t sure I could hold my composure in front of these guys. All I could think about was her coming back to California. I was already counting the days.

33

THE UNSTAGED FALL

AYLA

The Hawks had beaten Chicago on Sunday night, so Monday morning the team could breathe before preparing for the next game. Players walked the facility with more swing in their step. Hill let me observe an early-morning rehab session without his usual running commentary on what I should notice.

My flight to LA left at ten-thirty, so I worked quickly. I updated my fellowship notes and made sure no one would wonder where I’d be for the next few days. The fellowship was good. Hill gave me more access, helping me understand the future I was choosing. Every time I helped a player, I remembered why I’d fought so hard to get here. Now, I was about to lie to everyone and fly across the country to see a man in the wrong jersey. The cognitive dissonance was spectacular.

I finished my notes by eight, thanked Hill, and left. In the hallway, I passed Micah just arriving. He was limping on his ankle, but moving better than before. Looking at his grin, you wouldn’t even know he had a compression sleeve on his foot.

“You outta here early?”

“Taking a few days of personal time.”

“Nice. Going anywhere fun?”

“Visiting a friend,” I said without a hitch. I’d been practicing.

He nodded and moved on as I shook off the guilt.

When I got back from Buffalo two weeks ago, I planned to tell AJ. I ran through it on the drive home, and by the time I pulled into the parking garage, I had three versions prepared.

The next morning, AJ had asked where I’d gone. I told him I’d needed to clear my head. He looked at me, waiting for more, and when I fell silent, he let it go. Needless to say, I got scared.

This morning, I told AJ I was leaving during breakfast. “I’m heading out of town for a few days to visit a friend.”

He was at the kitchen counter with his tablet, deep in film from Sunday’s game, reviewing his throws with obsessive focus. “Cool. When you back?” he said, in a disinterested tone.

“Maybe Sunday.”

He swiped to the next play. “Have fun.”

That was it. He had better things to think about. Lennox and I had perfect timing. The Hawks were on a winning streak, winning four of their last five games. AJ was playing the best football of his life, and everyone talked about playoff seeding and matchups. Every day, AJ came home from practice with his tablet under his arm and his mind on game film. Telling him would distract him. It was better he didn’t know now. That worked for me too.

On the flight, I thought about all the ways this could go wrong. I made a list, tossed it over Illinois because it made me nauseous, then rebuilt it from memory over Texas—self-torture was my new hobby. By the time I landed at LAX, the afternoon sun convinced me problems didn’t exist on this coast.