Chapter 19
When she sees Kate, Leire already knows things have changed.
She doesn't need to be told—she can read it in Kate's body language the moment she opens the door: head down, hands buried in her pockets, shoulders caved in.
After the press conference, Diane had been waiting for her at the building entrance, arms crossed by the door.
"She wants to talk to you, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd at least give her that much without making her wait any longer."
Kate's coach's expression had been severe, a cutting edge to her voice.
"How do we do this?" Leire had asked.
"If you tell me which hotel you're at, I can arrange to get her in tonight without anyone noticing."
Leire had told her, given her the room number, and they'd agreed Kate would come around eleven. The redhead has just stepped inside, dressed all in black, hair tucked under a baseball cap and her hoodie pulled up over it.
Kate takes it all off when she comes in and walks straight to the back of the room, relieved to find no couch—just two armchairs facing each other by the window, where Leire has already had the presence of mind to draw the curtain.
She sits and presses her back against the chair, hands flat on the armrests, her whole body rigid.
Leire finally moves and walks over to the other armchair, and it's when she sits and looks into Kate's eyes—red, swollen, and dull—that she truly sees the damage her words at the press conference have done.
"Kate, I'm sorry," she says, drawing out the last syllables to underline how much she means it.
The Australian's gaze lifts.
"What exactly are you sorry for, Leire? For promising me one thing and doing the exact opposite, or for lying to my face?" Kate's tone sends a chill through her and makes her chest tighten.
It's not because it's harsh. It's because of how exhausted she sounds—but Leire feels drained too, with no idea how to handle this and her father at the same time.
"Everything, baby, I'm sorry for all of it. I got nervous, I didn't expect that question, and in that moment I just shut down—"
"You always have an excuse for everything, Leire, and I'm so tired.
I'm worn out waiting here for whatever scraps you'll give me.
I'm sick of not being considered, finding out you changed hotels in a hallway like everyone else.
But what drains me most is this—coming to talk to you and always watching you find some reason that justifies everything you do.
You make your own choices. Nobody else does it for you.
You were sitting in front of that microphone and you could have taken two seconds to think before you spoke.
You didn't have to say there's something between us, but saying we have nothing in common—with that much contempt—do you have any idea what that felt like? "
She can imagine it, actually. She only has to think about how she would have felt if it had been the other way around and it was the redhead who had spoken like that. But she knows saying so won't fix anything. She's pushed Kate to her limit, and words aren't enough anymore.
"I told you I'm sorry, Kate, and you know I mean it—but I'm not at my best right now. Things have happened these past few days that I still don't know how to deal with."
Kate cuts her off with what almost looks like a sarcastic smile, except it doesn't quite make it to her lips.
"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.