Page 150 of Colliding with Ten

“I said I know.” He shrugged one shoulder, casual as if we weren’t discussing what was dismantling my life.

“I was limping a little on the sideline against Denver the week before. Any defensive coordinator with a functioning television could’ve seen it and built a game plan. You didn’t need to tell anybody anything.”

The tears came before I could stop them. Bending forward, I pressed my hands to my face and sobbed. It was ugly and loud, coming from somewhere so deep I didn’t know it was possible.

Micah didn’t comfort me or do any of the things people did to make the crying stop. But he moved to sit beside me, our legs touching, exactly what I needed.

When I lifted my head and wiped my face with my shirt sleeve, Micah was still looking at me, but with a sad smile.

“AJ kicked me out.”

Micah nodded. “I figured.”

“He thinks I’m a traitor.”

“No, he just thinks he’s been made to look like a fool by the person he trusts most.”

I nodded, listening.

“Here’s what I know.” Micah leaned forward, elbows on his knees in a posture similar to AJ’s. “I know you didn’t do it. You fell for someone you weren’t supposed to; the timing was garbage, and you handled the secrecy poorly. But leaking intel?” He shook his head. “That’s not you. I’ve seen you in that training room. I’ve seen how you look at the work. You didn’t come this far to burn it down for a guy.”

“The front office doesn’t see it that way.”

“The front office is covering their ass. When the noise dies down, and someone looks at the tape, they’ll see what I see: a game plan built on film study, not insider information.” He paused. “It might take a minute, though.”

“Hill pulled his recommendation.”

Micah’s jaw tensed. That one bothered him. “Hill’s in a tough spot. He has a job to do, and my guess is that he was pressured.”

“And AJ —”

“AJ’s going to need time.” He said it without softening the blow. “He’s not wrong to be hurt. He’s wrong about the reason, but he’s not wrong about the feeling. You kept something massive from him, and he found out from his employer. That’s a bad day for anyone. For AJ?” He shook his head. “That’s a betrayal of the highest order. It’s more so because of the lie, not Monroe.”

I knew he was right. I’d known it since the morning I drove from Buffalo and decided I was done lying, but lied anyway to delay when everyone in my life found out who I’d become when they weren’t looking.

Micah ran his thumb along the coffee table. The confidence he wore had morphed into hesitation. “Can I tell you something? But you have to promise not to make it weird.”

“I can’t promise that, because I’m a weird person, Micah.”

He smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes. He exhaled and looked at the table. “I liked you, Ayla.”

He confessed as if he’d felt this for some time. I knew, but I didn’t know at the same time.

“I liked you from the first time I met you. I thought about asking you out.”

My chest ached. Micah was a good person, the best of the best, but I’d never considered him in that way. “Why didn’t you?” I asked. Even though I already knew.

“Two reasons. One. Your brother is my best friend, and I’d like to keep my teeth.” He almost smiled. “Two. You know the organization has a no-fraternization policy that we both signed in blood.”

I nodded. “Micah⁠—”

“I’m not done.” He looked at me. “I knew you’d move on. You’d find the right path for your talent and aspirations. And when you did, I was gonna be there for you. And when you were ready, I’d shoot my shot, with flowers and a reservation at a place I can’t afford.”

A lump formed in my throat. I thought about all the times he’d looked at me across the training room, but I could never quite read him. His grin had always been warm, but dealing with these things wasn’t my strong suit. Once I connected with Lennox, it was impossible to see anyone else.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve seen it sooner.”

“Would it have changed anything?”