Page 38 of Rivals and Liars

Now she's at the net, sweaty and drained, listening to the crowd applaud while her opponent shakes her hand. Since yesterday, Leire has felt like she's outside her own body—off-balance, absent, only moving when someone winds her up. She's won again, but she couldn't say whether it was hard or easy.

She ran into Kate before the match; she spotted her from a distance and her body just stopped. There were people everywhere—the hallway packed with players, trainers, physical therapists, venue staff, even sports journalists—and for a second she'd felt the urge to run, to get away from the danger that woman posed to her. But her body overrode her fear, and she stayed still, watching Kate walk toward her.

"Hey." Kate had stopped at a careful distance, and Leire lost her breath, because the only thing she felt was the need to wrap her arms around her.

"Hey."

"Are you okay?" The redhead's voice was low, barely above a whisper—the same voice she'd used so many times in bed, lying together after making love, and Leire knew that if she stayed with her too long, she'd fall apart again.

"Yeah." She looked down for a moment, at her own feet, then at the Australian's legs. "I can't talk right now, Kate…"

The redhead stood there watching her in a way that made her chest rise and fall faster and faster. It wasn't desire—it was pure fear, tangled with worry.

"That's okay," Kate murmured. "Good luck in your match."

Kate held out her hand the way she would have with any other player, and when Leire took it, something locked up inside her and she couldn't let go—because it was the only moment in the past twenty-four hours when her mind went quiet, when calm moved through her and made her feel safe, like she was home.

"Leire," Kate whispered. "People are watching."

She blinked her way back to the present, but it still took her a few seconds to let go. She did it slowly, flustered, and realized that plenty of eyes were on them.

"You sure you're okay?" the redhead pressed, and Leire had to look back down at the floor, because all she wanted was to lie down with her, trace a finger along the scar, then along her nose, and lose herself counting her freckles.

"Yeah. I'm going to go change," she managed, and she slipped past her.

Now she's in the locker room after winning, and she's grateful Kate hasn't stopped by to congratulate her the way she usually does. She still doesn't know whether that moment in the hallway will raise questions about their rivalry, but as she heads out for the press conference her mind scatters again, and all she can think about is the photos and her father's betrayal, and what her mother would have said about this if she were still alive.

When she walks into the back room to get ready, Isaac materializes like a ghost. She spotted him from a distance this morning and dodged him, and the only other thing she remembers is that he was up in the stands—same as always—when she walked off the court after the match.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asks quietly. "Why did you switch hotels? You should've told me—I would've handled it."

She looks at him, furious.

"With my dad?"

"What?" Isaac looks genuinely confused. "Where did you two check in? I need to get organized, and we have to figure out what you're going to say about the move, because the press already knows by now."

"You two?" she says, as if that's the only part she caught.

"Your dad and you. He left with you, didn't he?"

Leire's eyes go wide. Suddenly nothing makes sense. Is Isaac really in the dark, or is he just that good at pretending?

"I need to talk to you after this. Just the two of us," she says flatly.

"Yeah, of course, but it'll have to be later. I've got a lunch meeting. I'll call you after?"

"Fine. Right now just tell me what to say if they ask."

Isaac scratches the back of his neck. He's been turning this over all morning, but since he can't find a convincing reason for the switch, he goes with something simple that always works.

"Say it's a personal matter and you're not going to comment. Or, if you'd rather, dodge it with an easy joke—get a laugh, and make it clear at the same time you're not going there."

Leire exhales. The last thing she feels like doing right now is laughing.

"Fine," she says, and heads out to sit in front of the microphone.

The camera flashes blind her for a second, and when they stop, her eyes sweep the room until she finds Candela and settles on her. The woman gives her a brief nod, and Leire bites her lip as her mind betrays her and replays the awful conversation they had.