“Of course she will be. Chloe is strong,” Calvin said, his voice softening. “And I’m pretty sure whatever you two have, it’s strong enough to survive this.”
I didn’t want to listen to him, didn’t want to admit that he could be right.
I stepped back as his hands released me and Scottie stepped forward, giving me a supportive squeeze.
“Please look after her,” I said, my voice cracking. “Tell her...” Those three words died on my tongue again, and I swallowed them away. “Tell her... tell her I’m here for her.”
Scottie’s hand slipped into mine, grounding me as she gently led me away. Dylan followed, quiet for once, as they guided me back to the locker room.
I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water pound against my skin, washing away the sweat and grime of the match. And when the tears came, they poured out unchecked, mixing with the scalding water as I let myself break apart.
46
Chloe
Darling—Halsey
Ifucking lost.
Those three words kept rattling around my thick skull. I’d replayed every single moment, every serve, every return, in the hours since the match, but I still hadn’t made peace with it.
Smashing every racket in my bag and nearly tearing my kit in half had helped. A little. But every reminder dragged me back under. The TV replaying the match. Other players coming to offer me condolences. It all made me want to tear my hair out.
Who was that idiot on court? The fool who played right into her opponent’s trap.
Before, I could blame the anger. The rage. The way it ate me up and spat me out. But today? I played the best I could, and it hadn’t been enough. That was harder to accept.
Calvin’s expression when I walked off court had said it all: frustration etched into the faint lines of his face, sadness in his eyes. But he stuck around for the aftermath, making sure I didn’t have to face anyone while I seethed with disappointment. He even confiscated my phone so I wouldn’t doomscroll my misery.
Calvin always did this, picking up the pieces when I fell apart. He’d probably earn a sainthood for putting up with me. I didn’t knowif I resented him for it or if I was grateful beyond words to have somebody to see the ugliest side of me. Maybe both.
With a knock on the door, he appeared in the doorway. “Are you ready to leave?”
I’d been stashed away in a meeting room, nowhere near the locker room. Nowhere near her.
“Yeah.” I nodded, resigned. I’d been holding out hope the ground might swallow me whole, but no such luck.
“Security’s got the car waiting out front,” Calvin said as I grabbed my bag and straightened my hoodie. “Should be a swift exit.”
I nodded silently, stepping closer and expecting him to move out of the way, but he didn’t budge.
“I’m sorry for today,” Calvin said, his hand rubbing at the back of his head. “I feel like I failed you.”
I looked up at him, trying to understand. “What? Why on earth would you think that?”
We’d been here before. Losses, bad ones. But never had he said that. My own stupidity had landed me here, and now I had to watch it weigh on him too?
“Maybe this deal with Inés was a mistake,” he said. “Maybe I should’ve focused on strategy instead of... I really thought if we helped you control your rage, we had another shot. I thought keeping you calm would make you unstoppable.”
I exhaled sharply. “I played my best, and it wasn’t enough. That’s not on you.”
His mouth pressed into a thin line. “It was my idea.”
“You didn’t cause any of this. And the deal with Inés... it wasn’t a mistake. Even if it led here, I’d still do it again. She won. Fair and square.”
Calvin looked at me strangely, his gaze lingering. “That’s unlike you.”
“That’s what she taught me.” The words came before I could stop them, making my throat tighten. My heart winced like it was still bruised by the loss but not broken. “How to lose, how to feel like shit over it and how to walk away in love with that very person.”
