I roll to the side and see June on the bed next to mine, still curled beneath the covers, breathing steadily, blissfully unaware of me overthinking every emotion I’ve ever felt. I slip from bed, gather myself in the half dark, and move quietly, doing the small morning things that make me feel steady—bathroom, teethbrushed, hair twisted into a bun. I pull on my oversized hoodie, step into my sneakers, and decide on a coffee run for June and me. Something simple. Something I can control.
Professional Cat. Game-day Cat. The version of me who doesn’t fall apart over a man, no matter how big his shoulders are or how gentle his voice gets when he talks to me.
The hallway is quiet when I step out, the soft click of the door sounding louder than it should in the stillness. I pass room 523 and my heart trips, wondering if his room is once more right beside mine, if a single wall is all that separated us last night. The thought pulls at me, sharp and dangerous, so I shut it down. Not today. Not this morning. Focus, Cat. Big day ahead.
The elevator opens, and for a moment, I breathe. Yesterday sits with me like mist in my hair, impossible to shake off.Multnomah Falls. The rushing of the water, the cold on my cheeks, the truth in his voice when he told me I was his happiest memory. I don’t know how to hold that. I don’t know how to pretend those words didn’t settle somewhere deep in me, warm and terrifying.
By the time I walk into the hotel restaurant, I’m repeating my mental checklist—coffee, breakfast, media prep, locker-room content, sideline shots, postgame edits. Keep moving, keep working, keep breathing.
Then I see him.
He’s sitting toward the back in a corner booth. His shoulders relaxed, his head bent slightly as he wraps both hands around a mug. He looks up the moment I enter, like he felt me before he saw me. There is nothing dramatic about it, yet it sends heat under my skin.
Just like that, every carefully built wall in my chest wobbles. I want to walk up to him, slide next to him, and curl up against him. I want him to hold me and tell me everything is going to be all right.
Thankfully, he is not alone. Thiago sits across from him. Rogue doesn’t look away, but I do, because if I don’t, I’ll go to him, and life is rarely kind enough to let things be that simple.
Thiago calls, cheerful and loud, “Good morning, Catalina!”
“Good morning,” I manage, heading toward the coffee station, clinging to the comfort of routine. Cups, pods, the steady hum of the machine, ordinary things. Predictable things. The kind of tasks that don’t ask me how I’m feeling or who I dreamed about all night.
In seconds Thiago joins me, all warmth and sunshine in human form. “Campeona,” he says, and I smile.
“Buenos días,” I answer.
Without a word, he wraps me in one of those warm, full-body hugs that don’t ask permission but somehow still feel perfectly timed. My shoulders loosen before I can stop them, my body remembering how to soften even though my brain is still stuck in self-preservation mode.
He lets go and steps back, giving me a quick once-over before asking, “How are you?”
I lie. “I’m good. Just grabbing coffee for me and June. You?”
One eyebrow lifts, unimpressed. “Are you really going to lie to my face?”
A breath of a laugh slips out. “What exactly do you want me to say?”
“I want you to tell me you’re going to forgive him.”
My pulse stutters. “He told you—”
“No, Marianna did.”
That knocks the wind out of me for an entirely different reason. My hand shoots out on instinct and smacks his chest. “Oh my God. That’s right! You slept with my little sister.”
He winces, but he’s grinning too, which is honestly rude. “Yeah… about that. I know I should have talked to you first, butin my defense she’s… well, she’s her, and you were a little busy emotionally drop-kicking Rogue into the void.”
I can’t help it; I look over.
Rogue is still at the booth, elbows on the table, fingers tracing slow circles around his mug. Something tugs inside me, low and deep and stubborn.
Thiago lowers his voice, serious now. “He’s been gone for you since day one, Cat. Anyone with eyes can see it. And I know you feel something too. Just… maybe give him a little grace.”
It isn’t the teasing that gets me. It’s the softness. The genuine hope in his eyes.
I swallow past the lump forming in my throat. “I just need a little time.”
He nods, accepting that without pushing. “Fair enough. Big day ahead. Eat something.” He starts back toward the booth, then pauses and points at me. “And you and I are talking about me and your sister when we get home.”
I narrow my eyes at him. He responds with the most shamelessly proud salute I’ve ever seen before wandering back to Rogue.
