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"I ended it. Immediately. That morning. I threw the ring in his face, told him to pack his stuff and get out, and called Mia to try to warn her before she saw the paper. I didn’t make it in time, sadly. Then I tried to call Laine to apologize for not protecting her privacy better, for bringing someone into my life who would do that. But her phone was off. She was devastated. The whole thing nearly destroyed her life, her career, and her relationship with Mia."

"But that wasn't your fault, Harper."

"Wasn't it? I should have checked. Should have made absolutely sure he couldn't hear us. I should have been more careful about the people I allow into—"

"Harper." Cam's voice was firm, commanding. I looked up at her. "He's the one who eavesdropped. He's the one who violated your trust. He's the one who chose his career over basic human decency. That's on him. Not you. You couldn't have known he'd do that."

"But I should have known. I was going to marry him. How did I not see that he was capable of something like that?"

"Because people hide who they really are. Because you trusted him, and he betrayed that trust. That's not a failure of judgment on your part. That's him being a terrible person."

I stared back at her, and the certainty in her expression nearly undid me. She wasn't just saying the words. She believed them.

"You really think that?" I asked softly.

"I know that. He's an idiot. And he's a coward. Anyone who had you and chose a front-page story over keeping you is the stupidest person who's ever lived."

The words settled into my chest like warmth spreading through cold water. "I'm starting to believe that. Some days."

"Believe it every day."

"That's very confident coming from someone who—" I stopped myself, but too late.

"Who what? Who let her ex, Karlie, go? Who's too scared to come out? Who's basically doing the same thing Henry did, choosing career over the person in front of me?" Cam's voice was low, but there was an edge to it, like a kind of self-awareness that hurt to hear.

"That's not what I was going to say."

"But it's what you were thinking."

"No. What I was thinking is that you're nothing like Henry. Henry was selfish and cruel, and he hurt people for personal gain. You're scared. That's different. Fear isn't the same as cruelty."

Cam picked up another plate to dry. "Feels the same from where I'm standing. Feels like I'm letting fear make all my decisions. Just like I did with Karlie."

"What happened with her? With Karlie?" I asked gently. "You mentioned her before, but never the whole story."

Cam was quiet for a long moment, and I thought maybe she wouldn't answer. Then, "We were together for three years. Met when her team played against ours. She was a point guard too. Crazy talented, beautiful, funny. We clicked immediately."

"And?"

"And she wanted more than I could give. Wanted me to come out. Wanted us to be public. Wanted to bring me home to her family, go to events together as a couple, post photos on social media like normal people in love. Just—exist openly together."

"And you couldn't do that."

"I wouldn't do that." The distinction seemed important to her. "I was terrified of losing endorsements, of becoming yet another 'gay woman basketball player' instead of just a basketball player. Of having my sexuality define everything I'd worked for. So I said no. Kept saying no. Until one day, she finally left. Told me I was a coward, and she deserved someone brave enough to love her publicly."

"When was this?"

"Three years ago. She's in a relationship with someone else now. With a woman who posts photos of them together all the time, who probably took her home for Christmas, who’ll likely propose at a game in front of thousands of people. Someone who isn't scared to be seen with her." Cam's voice was flat, emotionless. I could tell that inside, she was feeling way too much. "Someone who isn't me."

"You're allowed to be scared, Cam."

"Am I? Because it doesn't feel like being scared. It feels like being a coward. It feels like I'm letting fear run my entire life. And the worst part is, I don't even know what I'm scared of anymore. Whether its real consequences or just ghosts I've built up in my head."

"Maybe both. Maybe that's okay."

"It's not okay. It cost me Karlie. It's costing me—" She stopped, caught herself.

"Costing you what?"