Because I don’t know how to ask the question forming in my head.
Not without making it real.
Not without risking that maybe the internet isn’t entirely wrong.
That maybe I’m just another moment to her.
Another headline-adjacent complication.
I don’t think she’d hurt me on purpose.
That’s what scares me.
Because the worst damage is never intentional.
It’s collateral.
***
The next morning at practice, everything looks the same.
Same drills.
Same chirping.
Same music.
But something in me has shifted.
Every move feels measured now. Every decision heavier than it should be.
I know one wrong step could change everything.
So I don’t take one.
I stay still.
Not because it feels right.
But because it feels safer.
Chapter nineteen
Sloane
Lunch is already half over when Paige groans and drops her fork.
“I swear, if my friend Marissa texts me one more screenshot of that man’s ‘thinking about things’ message, I’m blocking him for her.”
Nancy snorts. “That’s not thinking. That’s slow-fading.”
Paige nods emphatically. “Exactly. One week he’s all good-morning texts and late-night calls, and the next he’s suddenly ‘busy.’”
I lift my glass, listening.
My phone sits face down beside my plate.
I tell myself not to look at it.
