“What are you afraid of?” Brooke asks.
My gaze meets hers. “I’m falling for him.”
Her grin is slow and wide. “Obviously.”
Shock slams into me. “It’s obvious to you or to him?”
“To me because I’m smarter than your boy toy.”
I reach for the zipper and work it down. “So, if you’re not a romantic, why are you rooting for this?”
“Because you’re my friend and I want everyone to love you as much as I do. Plus, these guys are used to having control of everything and it’s fun to watch them spiral.”
I toss a shirt at her, and she catches it, laughing.
The more I think about it, the more I like it.
I’ll tell Clay I’m good with announcing us, that he doesn’t have to worry about pressuring me. I trust him.
“I’m not sure we’ll have time after we get back tomorrow. He’s heading away on another road trip.”
Brooke grins. “Then let’s go back early.”
“Have you seen Clay?” I ask Rookie outside the Kodiaks locker room.
He waves down the hallway toward the court.
Brooke and I got back in record time. Since our talk, all I can think about is seeing Clay.
My chest has been stretched so tight it feels as if my heart is going to beat out from within my ribs.
After landing, I showered and headed to the stadium, figuring I’d find Clay there.
I follow the winding hallway toward the court, replaying what I’d rehearsed in my mind.
When I get to the end of the tunnel, I hear Clay’s voice, hushed but urgent.
“…need to talk about our deal.”
“The deal where I agreed I’d get you to LA?” Harlan’s voice cuts in, every bit as tight but with an edge of frustration.
I pull up out of sight. This must be related to what they were fighting about at Christmas.
“You didn’t hold up your end of the bargain,” Harlan says.
“It wasn’t my fault she came back.”
The hairs on my neck lift.
“No, but you were supposed to stay away from her when she did.”
My heart stops.
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
I want to run, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
Instead, I step into the hallway.
They both turn to face me. Clay’s expression is tight with shock, Harlan’s surprised and guilty.
“Who were you supposed to stay away from?” I ask as steadily as I can.
“Nova. I thought you were in New York,” Clay says, but Harlan clears his throat.
“You. He was supposed to stay away from you.”
No.
“Why?” My voice trembles at the edges.
“Because it would be easier for everyone.” Harlan again.
I turn toward him, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. “You’re supposed to be family. I trusted you, and you manipulated me.”
His jaw tightens. “Nova, that’s not what—"
“Mari always did growing up, but at least she was my sister. Who are you to manage my life?”
He doesn’t answer.
“And you.” I round to face Clay, intending to confront him with all my anger.
But looking at him has emotions rushing up at me in a wave.
The backs of my eyes burn, and I spin and bolt out of the building.
Clay’s on my heels. “Nova. Nova, wait.”
He catches up to me outside the front doors, his trainers getting wet in the snow. I look up at him, not hiding the tears burning my eyes.
“It’s not what you think.”
“How do you know what I think?” I take a shaky breath.
“Let me explain.”
“That you made some kind of a bargain with Harlan that involved my feelings and your career?”
His throat works, his expression a tight mask of misery and hurt. “I told you I panicked that night, about us. That was true.”
“So, you went over my head and decided we were done without consulting me.”
“When you put it like that, it sounds bad.”
My eyes widen. “It took me putting it like that to make it sound bad?!”
Clay rubs his hands over his face. “I’m sorry.”
The next breath is painful. I wanted to tell him I was ready to go public, and now everything we had feels like it was built on a lie. I finally felt as if we were on even ground but he was treating me like a child this entire time.
“Me too.”
I shut my eyes briefly, as if that can block out the emotions raging through me, but when I open them, all the hurt and disappointment and anger are right there bubbling at the surface.
“You think you know better than everyone. On the court and off it. But you don’t get to decide what’s best, Clay.”
He reaches for me as though it’s the most natural thing in the world, as though it’s his right to touch me and he can fix everything if we’re closer.
Part of me wants that too, which is why I force myself to step back.
His hands fall back to his sides, his dark eyes bright with anguish as he wrestles with his control.
“I didn’t expect to see you before I left on this road trip. I don’t want to waste it. Let me take you out tonight. We can talk about this.”
Yes.
I hate having barriers between me and the people I care about.
That’s how all of this started, wanting to be on good terms with my sister.
But…
That’s my old pattern. I don’t want to cave, to be the one who bends simply because I’m better at it. I want to stand up for myself.
“It sounds like you’ve been doing enough talking for both of us,” I say and start toward the street.
This time, he doesn’t come after me.
18
NOVA
“Nova.”
I turn to see James Parker standing behind me in a sport coat and jeans, his lean face tight.
I pull off my headphones. “Hi.”
The past few days, I’ve thrown myself into working on the mural.
The guys on the court are coming together. It’s less of a literal rendition, the style implying energy and speed and connection.
I haven’t seen Clay since I caught him and Harlan in the hallway. He’s texted me multiple times, but I don’t feel I’m ready to talk.
Focusing on my art is hard when it involves the man I’ve fallen for and am not speaking to, but I try to forget that part.
“I’m still working on the third element,” I tell James. “If there’s a problem with the mural…”
“The problem isn’t how the wall looks—it’s that there’s a leak. You leaked it.”
My brows shoot up as I remember the photo from over a week ago. “I didn’t.”
“We have a big reveal at the gala. Our contract stated that this remained confidential.”
“And I've abided by that,” I assure him. “It could have been anyone. All the players and staff have access to the wall.”
“All of whom have been instructed not to share it and none of whom have motive to do so. I’ve been more than generous renegotiating the terms of our arrangement.”