Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 187

Chapter 187

Aiden

Since that night, the days had blurred together into one long stretch of repetition-practices, classes, sleep, repeat. Existing, but barely. The only thing I felt with any clarity was the dull, steady ache in my chest. Everything else was white noise.

Meetings had been the only real distraction from that constant, gnawing loss. Sitting with other coaches, discussing strategy, breaking down film-it was the closest I came to shutting my brain off. But the second they ended, the silence pressed back in.

I checked my phone again. No messages. Not a single one. Shoving it into my pocket, I kept walking the campus path. I lifted a hand to wave at a few familiar faces, but I didn’t slow down, didn’t engage. Small talk was impossible when the only voice I wanted to hear wasn’t speaking to me.

I hadn’t realized how much I’d grown used to his presence until it was ripped away. It wasn’t just the sex-though God knows I missed that too-it was the rhythm of having him there. Eating lunch in my office while we dissected game footage. Being pushed harder in workouts because he refused to back down. Sitting side by side in bed watching ESPN, shoulder against shoulder, as if that was the most natural thing in the world., Without him, there was a gaping hole, and even though it had only been a week, I felt like I was losing my mind.

The only time I saw him now was on the field, and even then it was from a distance. A flash of eye contact, quick and unspoken, then gone again. He never lingered, never acknowledged me beyond what professionalism required. The message was clear.

And of course, because the universe likes to twist the knife, Noah had just been named a Heisman Trophy finalist. His name was being plastered everywhere -commentators, sports networks, social media. Groveton’s golden boy. When I made the announcement to the team after practice, I’d managed a quick clap on his shoulder, my chest burning with pride I couldn’t say out loud. That was all. No celebration, no words that weren’t laced with the eyes of the world watching.

In a few days we’d be flying to New York for the awards banquet, the whole damn media circus. I didn’t know if I’d get a single chance to talk to him in private before then, or during, or ever again. But I knew one thing with absolute certainty: Noah Blake was going to win. He was the best player in the country, and they all saw it now. I wanted to tell him how proud I was, how much he deserved it, without ruining the moment by making it about us. Without letting slip even more than I already had.

Because I’d said too much that night he found me drunk. I’d let things out I couldn’t take back. He’d told me he loved me too, but if he regretted it, he was hiding it better than I could. He seemed to have an easier time moving on. Easier time slipping back into the image everyone wanted of him.

Lexie.

They were everywhere together. The new campus “power couple.” On the surface it was brilliant-perfect cover, perfect distraction, perfect way to keep anyone from looking too closely. And yet every time I saw them, something twisted hard and sharp in my gut. I didn’t know what he’d told her, or how he was keeping her father quiet, but so far nothing had blown up. Still, the sight of them together set my nerves on edge, like I was waiting for the hammer to fall.

Every day I braced for it-that knock on my door, the summons to the dean’s office, the escort off campus. At night I dreamed about it, nightmares of press conferences, headlines, the complete collapse of everything I’d built.

The worst part wasn’t even losing the job. It was knowing that if it all came down, it would drag Noah with me.

That was why the statement stayed folded in my pocket everywhere I went. Signed, dated, typed out clean. My confession. My shield for him. If today was the day, then at least Noah would walk away intact.