And I?—
I can’t breathe.
Not because I’m tired.
Because happiness is terrifying when you’ve learned how quickly it can be taken.
I stumble out of the pile, and my eyes find him again.
Logan is halfway onto the court before someone stops him, and he’s grinning so hard there are actual tears trying to escape.
Cameron follows slower, his own eyes damp, hands braced on his hips like he’s trying not to fall apart where people can see.
I run straight to them.
Logan catches me first.
He wraps me up, hard, tight, without a single hesitation, and when my feet lift off the ground, I let it happen, because for once I don’t want to be strong. I don’t want to be in control.
I want to be held.
“You did it,” Logan says into my hair, voice wrecked. “You did it!”
My face is buried against his neck, and his jersey fabric scratches my cheek. My number. My name.
My throat closes.
“I wish he saw it,” I whisper.
Logan’s hold tightens—not like he’s trying to fix it. Like he’s making space for the truth.
“He did,” he says softly. “He saw it all, baby.”
I pull back and blink at him.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Logan’s mouth tips into the tiniest smile. “Okay.”
Behind him, Cameron clears his throat like he’s trying to pretend he’s not crying.
“You did amazing, Slo,” Cameron says, voice rough.
I turn.
More tears escape his eyes as he wraps me in a tight hug.
“You were—” Cameron swallows hard. “You were insane.”
I let out a laugh that’s half-sob. “Thanks.”
Cameron steps closer and pulls me into a one-armed hug, squeezing too tight, like he’s making sure I’m real.
“I’m so proud of you,” he mutters into my hair.
Then, because he’s Cameron, he adds, “You gotta let go of me before I start crying.”
Logan snorts.
