Page 40 of Rivals and Liars

"Things you can't even be bothered to tell me about." She lets out a breath, something like a laugh, through her nose, not looking at her. "You don't lean on me. Something's wrong and you don't feel comfortable enough to tell me. I don't know how I didn't see all of this before."

"I do trust you—you're the only person right now I trust completely," Leire insists. "I'm just not ready yet."

"Ready for what, Leire?"

"I don't know, okay?" she snaps, frustration breaking through. "To tell you."

Her eyes fill with tears, but this time Kate doesn't soften. She's cried too much over this relationship already. She's done.

"It's something I still need to process. I'm completely overwhelmed and I can't fight on so many fronts at once."

"I met someone," Kate begins, and Leire goes completely still.

The redhead has leaned forward, elbows on her knees, rubbing her hands together as she talks.

"During the days I was on the island, Diane brought in a retired athlete who helps people who are about to leave professional sports because of something like what I'm going through." Kate doesn't look up—right now she doesn't care whether Leire is paying attention or not. She just needs to get it out. "She helps you find your footing, learn to accept it, look for things that can fill the hole it leaves behind. That kind of thing."

"That sounds good," Leire murmurs, a buzzing in her ears that won't stop, not since Kate said she met someone.

"Her name is Rachel. She's a former swimmer who retired because of an injury. She's warm and kind, a good listener, and without even trying she made me feel good. We'd go for walks while we talked because the idea of being cooped up inside was suffocating me. I connected with her. She's funny and attentive, and she made me feel seen in a way I hadn't felt in a long time."

Leire feels her throat closing and can't stop herself from asking before the knot forming inside her makes speaking impossible.

"Did you sleep with her?" Her voice comes out cracked, and Kate looks up.

By the time she does, Leire's eyes are already stinging with fresh tears and her chin has started to tremble.

"No. But one afternoon something happened and we almost kissed. And I wanted to, Leire." The tears start sliding down her cheeks, but she doesn't move or wipe them away—she just needs to finish saying it. "It made me think about what it would be like to be with someone who didn't hide me. Someone who'd pass me in a hallway and not tense up and look around to check who was watching. I wish I had."

She touches the scar on her eyebrow because it's started to itch, and Leire feels her chest crack open from the inside.

"You're overwhelmed." Kate tries to smile, but the sadness won't let her. "Don't worry—as far as I'm concerned, you don't have to do anything else. I'm not going to keep being a problem for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll never ask you to expose yourself or do something you don't want to do. But you can't ask me to stay here either, waiting, settling for so little that sometimes I'm not even sure I deserve more anymore. It's over, Leire."

The strangled gasp that escapes Leire's throat makes Kate stop breathing for a few seconds. She watches the expression shift on her face, her shoulders collapse, her body fall back in the chair as if she's just finished a marathon that's left her with nothing.

Kate wipes her tears and stands.

"I don't regret meeting you, or anything that happened between us. I've loved you so much, and I still do—that's not going to change just because I walk away. But I need to love myself too. Good luck, Leire. I hope you work through whatever's hurting you. I'll see you on the court."

Leire nods, unable to open her mouth without breaking down—which means she can't tell her that she loves her too, that she's the best thing that's ever happened to her, that even though she knew losing her was a possibility, she wasn't prepared for the devastation she feels.

She watches her leave, a dark blur by the time she's put the cap and hoodie back on, and two hours later Leire is still in the same position, anchored to the armchair, face soaked, eyes and nose burning, and an ache in her chest she can't quite trace back to any one place.

Chapter 20

"Are you ready, sweetheart?" Diane asks, standing beside Kate, who's about to walk into the press conference she called herself.

Three days have passed since her final breakup with Leire. Since then they haven't spoken, have greeted each other in the hallways with a simple nod, and somehow, in some twisted, strange way, people have picked up on the tension between them and the rumors about their rivalry have started flying again. Both of them made it through the round of sixteen. Her back is giving her a reprieve, as if her body knows this is the last tournament and is giving her the chance to play at full capacity—which makes all of this even harder.

"No," she answers quietly.

"I know." Diane squeezes her arm, runs a hand along her back to steady her, and smiles with a mix of tenderness and admiration. "You're so strong, and you're doing really well."

Diane doesn't say it just to lift her spirits—she means it. When she saw her come out of the Spanish woman's room, all she could do was take her hand and guide her out of the building, where a cab was waiting at the entrance, and once inside she was finally able to hold her when Kate folded against her, crying and hiccupping against her chest while she tried to comfort her and press a Band-Aid over that broken heart.