Chapter 16
Kate arrived in Cincinnati yesterday, late, with just enough time to get to the hotel, eat something light with Diane, and head up to her room to shower and go to bed.
She's decided not to play the tournament and save herself for the last Grand Slam, but she'll use these days to keep up with the massages and adapted exercises she's been doing at home—ones that have helped her get rid of the pain without needing another injection.
Leire arrives today, and they've agreed to meet in her room tonight.
Kate feels completely off-balance with herself, because that flutter is back in her stomach—the one that comes with knowing she'll see her, that sense of anticipation at the thought of brushing her lips, the urge to hold her and lose herself in the smell of her body.
It wasn't the plan. She'd wanted to talk the moment they saw each other, lay everything out on the table, and, like Rachel had suggested, at least try to figure out what they are to each other.
"Kate, focus," Diane demands when she tosses her a ball that flies right past her without Kate even seeing it.
"Sorry," she says with an amused smile that makes her coach huff, and then she starts moving on autopilot, because she can't stop thinking about everything that's happened these last few days.
She misses the island, the quiet of her house, the idle hours at the pool with her feet in the water and her eyes drifting to where the fresh water met the salt at the far end.
She also misses her conversations with Rachel—a woman who'd arrived with the job of helping her through the transition out of the sport that had been her life for years, and who ended up becoming a confidante and friend Kate doesn't want to lose touch with.
They said goodbye early that morning. Kate was already outside, sitting on the edge of a planter, looking at her suitcase and Diane's, which they'd left by the entrance.
Rachel came out with hers, set it aside, and sat down next to the Australian while she finished her coffee.
"Ready to start the final stretch?"
The redhead nodded, thinking about Cincinnati and the US Open. Her stomach clenched for a moment just thinking about it, as if she'd just found out she was retiring—but it only lasted a second.
"What are you going to do?"
"Go home and find some other poor athlete like you who needs me," Rachel teased.
Kate let out a soft laugh through her nose and turned to look at her.
"I don't know how to do this—say goodbye to you."
"You don't have to do it any particular way." Rachel set her mug on the ground. "You have my number. Call me when you need me, no matter what time it is."
"What if I don't need you?" Kate hesitated.
"Then you'd make me happy if you called anyway."
The tennis player laughed again—a soft, easy laugh—before dropping her gaze.
Part of her wanted to say something more, to put a name to what it had meant to have Rachel beside her all these days, to how easy it had been to fall asleep at night knowing there was someone nearby who never would have asked her to leave in the middle of the night.
But she couldn't find the words, and when she looked up at Rachel again, the woman brushed another strand of hair from her face, just like she had the other afternoon.
"Take good care of yourself, Kate Brogan," she whispered, and Kate pulled her into a hug and buried her face in the curve of her neck.
"I will."
"Kate, please," Diane huffs, exasperated.
She smiles again and touches her ponytail with exaggerated innocence, but she can't get her mind to settle on the morning's practice, because she still has that damn flutter in her stomach, counting down the hours until she sees Leire—and feeling like she's lost some of the certainty and resolve she arrived with last night.
In her head, the scene had been simple: see her in her room, talk to her, tell her she can't keep going like this and probably end whatever they have.
But now that she knows it's only a matter of time before Leire is standing in front of her again, she's not so sure she can actually say it—because when she thinks about spending more days here and not being able to spend the nights with her, it's hard to breathe.
She lowers her racket and straightens up, starting to walk toward Diane, who understands, frustrated, that practice is over.
"I don't think I can do it."
"Do what, sweetheart? Because this morning it seems like you can't do anything." The sarcasm in her voice makes the tennis player laugh as they both sit down on a bench.
"End things with her. I thought I was ready, but I think about seeing her tonight and the last thing I want is to fight. I just want to—"
"Be with her," Diane says.
"Yeah." Kate leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees.
Diane looks up at the sky and runs a hand across her back.
"You don't think I'm weak for not being able to walk away from her?"
"I've never thought that. Honestly, it takes a lot of strength to stand by someone as guarded as Leire for this long. You love her, Kate. Nobody can punish you for that—not you, not her. You're just two women in the middle of something complicated that neither of you knows how it'll end."
"I do know how it ends…" Kate tries to sound certain, but the waver in her voice gives her away.
"I know I haven't supported what you two have for months now—watching you suffer tears me apart—but I've talked a lot with Rachel too, and she's helped me understand that this is something you need to work through on your own, at your own pace.
So all I can do is be here and support whatever you decide.
And if what you feel like doing tonight is giving yourself a little joy, do it and don't think about anything else. "
"What if tomorrow I feel like I need the same thing?"
"Sweetheart, stop torturing yourself. Nobody can blame you for holding onto hope that something might change."
Kate exhales and stares into the distance for a few seconds as she realizes that's exactly it—she still has hope.
She still believes that somehow, things between her and Leire can be saved.
She doesn't even know what she's waiting for, but anything would be enough.
She doesn't need Leire to come out of the closet—just to commit to her, to give her something more than hotel nights, to tell her they'll spend their vacation together at her place, or that she wants to come watch her at tournaments after she stops playing.
"Okay, I'm going to shower," she says, and they both stand. "I'm sorry about practice today. I promise I'll be better tomorrow."
"Don't worry about it." Diane puts an arm around her shoulders and walks with her toward the locker rooms.
The night comes faster than Kate expected.
Leire arrived in the afternoon, but she had an interview and then practice, and they agreed to meet the way they always do—which Kate is grateful for, because she wouldn't have been satisfied with their first moment today being in a hallway or a common room where all they could do was look at each other without touching.
She knocks, and the door opens the second her knuckles leave the wood, as if Leire had been standing right there, waiting on the other side of the wall.
"Hey," the redhead says, and Leire pulls her into a fierce hug the moment the door is closed.
The hug is so intense that Kate nearly loses her balance and has to press one hand against the wall to steady them both.
She feels her force move through her like a current and breathes in deep, flooding herself with the scent she knows she's been addicted to since the first time she had her this close.
"Hey," Leire says when they pull apart, cupping her face in both hands before kissing her. "How are you? Did it bother you at practice today?" she asks, sliding a hand along her lower back.
"No, still no pain. The exercises and the physical therapy are working this time."
Leire exhales in relief. She's been asking all these days, but Kate's answers had been so short ever since the Costel renewal was announced that her throat had felt tight ever since—convinced that when they finally saw each other again it would be tense, something that would leave her wrecked by the end.
But now, looking into Kate's eyes, all she sees is warmth. And that throws her off.
"I thought you were angry about the Costel thing," she says as they both sit on the bed.
"I am."
The Spanish woman nods and pulls her legs up onto the mattress, crossing them and wrapping her hands around her ankles.
"I'm sorry. I know I told you that until my contract with them was up, you and I couldn't—"
"It's not because you signed, Leire. I get that. I've known for a long time that the image clause is just an excuse."
Leire stares at her, eyes wide.
"Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"What would have been the point? That would've just been another form of pressure. I'm not going to force you into something you're not ready for. What bothers me is finding out through social media."
"I know. And I'm sorry. I swear I was going to call you and tell you myself, but Isaac got ahead of me—he didn't say what he was going to do—and, well. You know the rest."
"I came here intending to end whatever we have," Kate admits, and Leire feels her heart freeze inside her chest. "I've thought about it a lot these past few days, and I think it's what's best for me, because it keeps getting harder to live on the margins.
" Kate sighs. "But I don't think I'm ready for that yet. At least not tonight."
Leire swallows, fully aware of what Kate is telling her—because tonight she's not ready, but tomorrow she might be.
She reaches over and takes Kate's hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing.
"You don't want to pressure me to come out of the closet, and I don't want to pressure you to stay. But I need you to know that I'm trying. That I have conversations with myself. That I stand in front of the mirror and picture myself in front of the cameras telling the world I love you."
Kate feels a faint shiver move through her and squeezes her hand harder.
"I just never know how to do it. Thinking about standing up there in front of millions of people to explain something that should only belong to you and me—" The Spanish woman swallows and grabs the hem of her pants with her free hand, twisting it between her fingers.
"It terrifies you," Kate whispers, and Leire nods.
"I shouldn't be afraid. It would just be one sentence: I'm in love with Kate Brogan," she says it like she's speaking to a camera, and they both smile. "But no matter how many times I tell myself I'll say it at the next press conference, I end up frozen."
"Let's extend the truce a little longer," Kate murmurs.
"This isn't about a truce, baby. Actually, I never should've asked you for one.
It's about the fact that I have to make a decision—that we can't keep settling for so little, and I'm not willing to keep hurting you.
I've decided to take the step. Not just for us, but because living this way is agony for me. I can't keep doing it."
"What about Costel?"
"Costel can go to hell. I never should've signed that damn renewal.
I don't know what'll happen if I break the clause, but I can't imagine it goes beyond voiding the contract and maybe a financial penalty.
I'll do it, Kate," she says with conviction.
"Just give me a little more time. Let me try to find the right moment without it being forced, because if it's forced, I don't think I can do it. "
"Okay."
Leire turns toward her and places a hand at the back of her neck, drawing her in until their foreheads touch.
"I love you. And I'm going to fight for what we have."
"I believe you," Kate whispers, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions flooding through her right now.
She doesn't know what she expected when she came here—beyond sex and uncomfortable silence—but this has been a surprise, a very good one, and it feeds her hope and helps her believe it can work, that they have a future.
Leire smiles against her mouth when she hears her, and leans in until, within seconds, she has the redhead underneath her.
"Tonight I'm going to count every single freckle on your nose," she whispers, kissing her eyelids.
"Count whatever you want," Kate breathes, taking her hand, "but take care of something else first."
Leire lets out a soft laugh before turning her full attention to doing exactly that.