Time slowed, the background of the stadium blurring behind him. The pain in his gaze gutted me, and when he hesitated, when his gait slowed just enough for me to notice, I wondered if he wanted to run to me.
I wondered if he’d sayfuck itand do just that.
But it was only a moment, a split second in time before he was tearing his gaze away and jogging into the locker room.
It took everything in me not to watch him too closely for the rest of the game.
Not to search his face for something.
Not to wonder if he was watching me.
Not to hope.
By the fourth quarter, I felt like I was floating outside my own body.
And by the time the final whistle blew, I knew one thing with painful, perfect clarity.
I couldn’t keep doing this to myself.
I couldn’t keep standing in the middle of my own life waiting for someone else to tell me whether I got to have it.
I couldn’t chase him.
I couldn’t make this easier for him.
I couldn’t solve the war inside him any more than I could dance my way out of my own heartbreak.
But I also couldn’t lie to myself anymore.
I wanted roots.
I wanted purpose.
I wanted a life that felt like mine when I woke up inside it.
And God help me, I wanted love, too.
Real love.
The kind that stayed even when life made it complicated.
I didn’t know if Braden and I would ever find our way back to each other.
I didn’t know if this team and this season had been our whole story, or just the beginning.
But for the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid of what I wanted just because wanting it hurt.
And when I stared at my reflection later that night, smoothing a wipe over my skin to remove the makeup, I smiled.
For once, I didn’t see someone I needed to fix, shrink, or figure out.
I just saw me.
And she was enough.
Braden
The day after the game, I sat at Ginny’s bedside, one hand holding hers and the other holding my phone. My eyes were fixed on the screen, on the unanswered text from Emily the day before.
