“Everything okay?” she asks, voice calm but attentive.
“Yeah,” I say slowly, thumb hovering as I open the message. “I think so.”
I read the message twice.
Then a third time, slower, like if I rush it the words might disappear.
Congratulations on the playoffs. And on your first anniversary.
P.S. If any teammates need future support, you know where to send them.
Lila leans over, peeking at my phone without crowding me.
“Evelyn?” she asks.
I nod and press a kiss to her knuckles.
A quiet thank-you. For believing me when it wasn’t convenient. For staying when it would’ve been easier not to.
A lot of my sponsors bailed at the beginning.
After the lawsuit collapsed, it took time. Silence. Weeks where nothing happened and I learned how to live with that.
Then the calls came back.
Invitations followed. My name stopped being whispered like a liability.
I got my reputation back.
More than that—
I got myself back.
“And Reid hasn’t posted anything about you in months,” I add, glancing up at her.
She blinks.
“Not since you talked to him,” she says carefully. Then she squints at me. “I still think you probably threatened him within an inch of his life.”
A corner of my mouth lifts.
“You could call it a conversation,” I say. “I would call it clarifying.”
She snorts, shaking her head.
I don’t tell her about the way Reid’s face drained of color when I showed up. Calm. Polite. Unmoving. Six-foot-three of quiet certainty making it clear that the smear campaign would end immediately.
Lila turns back to her notebook, humming softly. The sun catches the simple gold band on her finger.
She chose it herself. Delicate. Unflashy. Worn every day without fail.
I watch her for a second too long.
She feels it.
“What?” she asks, glancing up, cheeks flushing just a little.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
