Chapter 20
Lavender's coffee shop was nearly empty at two o'clock on a quiet Tuesday afternoon.
Camille sat in the corner booth, her back to the wall, a faded baseball cap pulled low over her unwashed blonde hair and oversized sunglasses hiding most of her face.
She'd barely looked in a mirror before leaving her apartment.
The disguise was pathetic—she looked exactly like a celebrity trying not to be recognized—but it was better than the alternative.
The reporters had been everywhere since the confrontation last week, camped outside her apartment, waiting at the arena, appearing at restaurants and grocery stores with their cameras and their relentless questions.
Is it true about you and Lou Calder?
When did you realize you were gay?
Does Mario know?
She'd stopped going most places. Stayed in her apartment with the blinds drawn, ordering delivery and watching the walls close in around her.
The days had blurred together—wake up, go to gym, do rehab exercises, cry, sleep, repeat.
Her phone was full of messages she hadn't answered from her agent, her mother, old teammates who'd seen the headlines.
The only calls she'd taken were from the team doctor about her knee.
The only reason she was here now was because Elise had texted four times in increasing urgency until Camille finally agreed to meet.
Elise sat across from her, two lattes untouched between them, her dark eyes full of the kind of concern that made Camille want to cry. The booth's vinyl seats creaked as Elise shifted, her strong hands wrapped around her coffee cup like she was trying to draw warmth from it.
"You need to hear this from someone who cares about you," Elise said quietly. "Lou stepped down as captain."
The words landed like a blow.
Camille's hand jerked, nearly knocking over her latte. The ceramic cup scraped against the table, coffee sloshing over the rim. She barely noticed. Her whole body had gone cold despite the warmth of the coffee shop, a numbness spreading through her limbs like ice forming on a pond.
"Lou stepped down as captain."
She made Elise repeat it because surely she'd misheard. But Elise's expression confirmed the terrible truth.
Camille had expected bad news—had been bracing for it since Elise texted asking to meet.
But this was worse than anything she'd imagined.
Lou had built her entire identity around being the Valkyries' leader, the steady presence that held the team together through every storm.
For nine years, she'd worn that C on her jersey like armor.
The captaincy wasn't just a title to her; it was who she was.
"When?" Camille's voice came out rough, scraped raw by days of crying.
"Two days ago. After we lost to LA." Elise's fingers tightened on her cup. "She sent a text to Mara and Astoria. Said the team deserved better leadership than she could give right now."
"And they accepted it?"
"Mara didn't want to, but Lou insisted. Said she wouldn't change her mind no matter what anyone said." Elise paused, her expression careful. "She hasn't been back to the arena since. Won't answer her phone. Frankie went by her house yesterday—the lights were on but Lou didn't answer the door."
Camille's chest constricted around the ache that lived there now, a permanent weight that made breathing feel like work. She'd done this. Not directly, maybe, but the chain of events led back to her—to them, to whatever they'd been building before it all fell apart.
"How's the team?" The question felt inadequate, but Camille didn't know what else to ask.
"Lost. Confused. We're supposed to play Boston in three days and our best defensive player just quit leadership.
" Elise's voice was carefully neutral, but the frustration bled through anyway.
"The qualification math is brutal now. We'd need to win every remaining game to have a chance, and without Camille scoring goals and without Lou holding the defense together. .."
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to.
"I'm sorry." Tears pricked at Camille's eyes beneath the sunglasses. "I never meant for any of this to happen."
"I know you didn't." Elise reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "None of this is your fault. You didn't make Lou pull away. You didn't make the reporters start asking questions. You're just caught in the middle of something that got bigger than either of you expected."
"But if I hadn't—if we hadn't—"
"If you hadn't what? Fallen for each other?" Elise's expression softened. "Camille, I've known Lou for five years. I've never seen her look at anyone the way she looks at you. Whatever happened between you—that was real. That was important. And it deserved better than how it ended."
The tears broke through, sliding beneath the sunglasses and tracking hot paths down Camille's cheeks. She wiped them away with trembling fingers, grateful for the empty coffee shop, for the anonymity of the corner booth, for Elise's steady presence across the table.
"She ended things via text," Camille whispered. "Twelve words. I can't do this anymore, it's messing with my head. Like everything we shared was just a distraction she needed to eliminate."
"That sounds like Lou being scared, not Lou being truthful." Elise's voice was gentle but firm. "She does this—shuts down when things get too real. Convinces herself she's protecting everyone by pushing them away. It's her pattern, and it's been her pattern for as long as I've known her."
"So what am I supposed to do? Wait for her to work through her issues while my heart breaks and the team falls apart?"
"I don't know." Elise shook her head slowly. "I wish I had answers. All I know is that watching both of you suffer separately is painful. And I don't think either of you is going to get through this without the other."
They sat in silence for a moment, the coffee shop's ambient music filling the space between them—some soft acoustic song that Camille vaguely recognized from a commercial.
The espresso machine hissed behind the counter, grinding beans and steaming milk for customers who had ordinary problems like which latte to order and whether to get a pastry.
Outside the window, the Phoenix Ridge sun blazed down on a sidewalk that Camille couldn't walk without being photographed.
A couple of women sat at a nearby table, holding hands across the surface, completely absorbed in each other.
The sight made Camille's throat tighten.
That could have been her and Lou, in a different world.
In a world where Camille had been braver, where Lou had been less afraid, where love didn't come with a price tag attached.
"What about my knee?" Camille asked, changing the subject because she couldn't bear to talk about Lou anymore. "Any word from medical on when I can play? It feels better.”
"They want another scan next week. The MCL is healing, but they're still worried about the meniscus." Elise's expression shifted to something more clinical. "Best case, you might be cleared for the final game of the season. But that's optimistic."
The final game of the season. If the Valkyries had any chance at qualification by then.
"So I'm useless." Camille laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I came here to help this team reach the PWHL, and instead I've wrecked everything. The captain quit because of me. The media is treating us like a circus. My knee is broken. What exactly have I contributed besides chaos?"
"You contributed goals. Leadership. Chemistry with Lou that made the whole offense click." Elise's voice sharpened. "Stop pretending you're nothing. This team was struggling before you got here. You helped make us better. The fact that things have gotten complicated doesn't erase that."
Camille wanted to believe her. Wanted to feel like her presence in Phoenix Ridge had meant something beyond the wreckage scattered around her.
But sitting here in disguise, hiding from cameras, separated from the woman she loved by walls neither of them seemed able to break down—it was hard to see anything but failure.
"I don't know what to do next," she admitted.
The confession scraped her throat raw. "I've always had a plan.
Always known the right move, the strategic choice, the path that would advance my career.
When I was seventeen, I mapped out the next decade of my life—what teams to play for, what endorsements to pursue, how to build a brand that would last beyond my playing years. "
She laughed, but there was no humor in it.
"Every relationship, every interview, every photo op—all calculated. Even Mario was part of the plan. Date a basketball star, raise my profile, use his platform to boost my own." The words tasted bitter. "But this—" She gestured vaguely at everything. "I don't know how to play this."
"Maybe that's the point." Elise leaned forward, her elbows on the table. "Maybe this is the part where you stop playing and start living. Stop calculating the right move and start feeling your way through."
"That sounds terrifying."
"Most important things are." Elise smiled—a small, sad smile that held years of her own hard-won wisdom.
"I spent a long time trying to control my life too.
Planning every step, avoiding every risk.
And then I fell in love with someone who made all my plans feel meaningless. Best thing that ever happened to me."
"What did you do?"
"I panicked. I pushed her away. I made every mistake you're making right now." Elise's eyes met hers, steady and certain. "And then I realized that a life lived safe is a life lived small. So I took the leap. Ten years later, I'm still falling."
The barista announced something from behind the counter—a name, an order ready for pickup—and the spell of the conversation broke. Elise glanced at her watch, her expression shifting to apologetic.
"I need to get to practice. We're running skeleton drills with whoever's healthy enough to skate." She stood, then paused, looking down at Camille with something that might have been hope. "Think about what I said. About Lou. About all of it."
"I will."
"And Camille?" Elise reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "For what it's worth—I think you two are worth fighting for. I think Lou thinks so too, even if she's too scared to admit it. Don't give up on her yet."
Then she was gone, the coffee shop purple door swinging shut behind her, leaving Camille alone with two cold lattes and the weight of everything she'd lost.
She sat there for a long time after Elise left.
Let the afternoon shadows lengthen across the floor.
Let the tears dry and the ache settle into something almost bearable.
The coffee shop filled and emptied around her—customers coming and going, the barista calling orders, the ordinary rhythm of a world that kept spinning regardless of Camille's grief.
Lou had quit. Not just the relationship—the captaincy too.
Had burned down everything she'd built because she was too afraid to face what was growing between them.
Had taken the coward's path, hiding in her house with the lights on and the door closed, refusing to answer calls or open up to the people who loved her.
But Camille had done the same thing, hadn't she?
Had crawled into her apartment and pulled the blinds and let the darkness swallow her whole.
Had accepted Lou's dismissal without fighting, without pushing back, without doing any of the things she would have done if she were the woman she claimed to be.
And Camille had let her. Had let both of them. Had accepted that text message without fighting, without demanding a real conversation, without doing anything except crawling into a hole and licking her wounds.
Maybe Elise was right. Maybe this was the part where she stopped calculating and started feeling.
Maybe this was the part where she fought.
Camille pulled out her phone, stared at the screen for a long moment, then opened her contacts. Not Lou's name—not yet. There was something she needed to do first.
She found Astoria Shepry's number and pressed call before she could second-guess herself.
"Camille." Astoria's voice was crisp, professional, but not unkind. "I've been wondering when I'd hear from you."
"I need to meet with you. You and Mara both." Camille's voice came out steadier than she expected. "Tomorrow, if possible. There's something I need to tell you. Something I should have said a long time ago."
A pause on the other end of the line. Then: "Mara's office, nine AM sharp. We'll be there."
"Thank you." The words were inadequate for what she was feeling, but they would have to do.
Camille hung up and stared at her phone for another long moment.
Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat, her palms slick with sweat, every instinct she'd developed over years of strategic image management screaming at her to reconsider.
What was she doing? She'd spent her entire career controlling narratives, managing appearances, making sure every public statement was calculated for maximum benefit.
And now she was about to blow all of that up.
For Lou.
For herself.
For the chance at something real, even if it cost her everything she'd built.
But Elise was right. She was done playing. Done calculating. Done hiding in shadows while the woman she loved destroyed herself with fear.
Tomorrow, she would tell the truth. Would stand in front of Astoria and Mara and say the words she'd been too scared to say: I'm in love with Lou Calder. I'm gay, or bisexual, or whatever word fits. And I'm tired of pretending otherwise.
And then she would go find Lou. Would knock on that door until Lou opened it, would say whatever needed saying to break through the walls Lou had built around herself. Would fight for what they'd started to build, because some things were worth fighting for.
For the first time in weeks, Camille felt something besides despair.
It was hope. Small and fragile and terrifying, flickering like a candle in a dark room, but present. Alive.
And she was going to hold onto it with everything she had left.