Page 29 of Rivals and Liars

Back then, their feelings hadn't been that strong yet. They'd been sleeping together for months and neither of them had given much thought to anything more, not until that night. Leire had been sure then that if things fell apart she'd miss her for a few days, but she'd get over it fast because she was already used to seeing her sporadically — and it was the same for Kate. Until that night, she'd kept living her life and had been with other girls the same way she was with Leire at the tournaments.

"Okay, so we keep things the way they are. Sex with no strings," the redhead said, and Leire breathed out in relief — except the agreement was a failure, because both their feelings kept growing every time they saw each other, until the point where not seeing each other started to hurt.

Leire walked out of the hotel meeting room and headed straight for the elevator. By the time the doors opened on her floor, her eyes were wet, and she ran to her room as if the only air she could breathe was in there. She pushed the door open and let it fall shut behind her, ran to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, and when she looked up and caught her own reflection in the mirror, she had to look away — she couldn't face herself right now.

She'd just signed one of the most lucrative contracts in women's sports. She should be proud, celebrating with her father and her agent. But she hadn't only betrayed herself by doing it — she'd let Kate down too. Until now, she'd always taken shelter in the contract as her excuse for keeping the relationship out of the public eye, and Kate had always been there, waiting, patient, accepting the scraps she was given.

How was she supposed to tell her she'd made the renewal official?

She picked up her phone and searched for Kate's name while trying to convince herself she'd done the right thing. Any professional in her position would have signed, and Kate had to understand that. But deep down she knew it wasn't the damn contract — she'd signed it because it gave her an excuse to avoid admitting that even without that clause hanging over her, she still wouldn't have found the strength to tell the world she liked women.

She didn't feel safe. It didn't seem fair that she should have to explain herself, and she wasn't ready to answer questions about her private life.

Instead of calling Kate, she called her friend Marta, and the moment Marta picked up, Leire poured out everything running through her head in one nearly breathless rush. When she was done, she opened a bottle of water from the minibar and drank almost all of it while she waited for her friend to confirm what a mess she was for not having had the courage to bet on herself — to break free and live what she had with Kate without hiding.

"Have you told any of this to Kate?" Marta asked.

"I already told you — she doesn't know about the contract."

"That's not what I mean. I mean how you feel about the idea of being visible. Maybe if you explain it to her the way you just explained it to me, she'll end up understanding."

"I think deep down she's always suspected I'm a coward, but she's never said anything. She just stays there, waiting for something I don't know how to give her."

"Leire…"

Marta paused, searching for the right words.

"I understand your fear and I'm on your side, but if you don't face this once and for all, you're never going to be happy. You're in love with Brogan, and you're going to let her walk out of your life — in exchange for what? Privacy? Ask yourself this: what good is privacy if you're miserable?"

Leire wiped her tears. She'd give anything to have the kind of courage they all seemed to have — the courage Kate had had from the start, showing up openly with women, letting people stare and talk until they got bored and moved on. She wanted to do the same: she could hold Kate's hand, let someone take their picture, let the comments explode. What was the worst that could happen? That Costel would cancel the contract? She didn't even know what the consequences would be, but she could probably live with them. She knew it was that simple — and still, when she pictured actually doing it, a fear that had made its home in her body twisted her gut.

"She's going to leave me when she finds out."

"You don't know that," her friend replied, trying to reassure her.

"Yeah, I do," she said, and her eyes went wide when she heard how certain she sounded. "I'm destroying her from the inside with this shit, keeping her hidden like she doesn't matter. Everyone has a limit, Marta, and I know Kate is hitting hers."

"I don't know what to tell you. This is entirely up to you — but I'm here, okay? I'll always be in your corner."

Leire nodded without answering, and when they hung up she let herself drop onto the bed with her phone in her hand. She opened Kate's messages to write and tell her she missed her, but ended up deleting everything, because she knew what she had to say wasn't that — it was about the renewal. And since she couldn't find the words, she set the phone down and curled up on the bed. She'd do it. She'd call her at some point and tell her in her own words, not through a text that would make her feel even more like a coward. But not today. She needed her voice to be steady, needed to be calm, to explain that her mind tried every single day to get there, that she was always looking for a way to face who she was, and that she still hadn't found a way to stop feeling terrified at the thought of people staring and pointing because she wasn't the woman society expected her to be.

Chapter 15

These last few days, Kate has the feeling she's living in a body that doesn't belong to her, moving through a life that isn't hers. It's been almost a week since she found out about Leire's renewal with Costel—and not from her lover.

She'd woken up with her lower back a little stiff, though noticeably better since she'd been on the island, resting and focused on her recovery exercises. The numbness lasted a few seconds—the same time it took her body to realize it was awake and needed to move. She sat on the edge of the bed, letting the discomfort fade, and picked up her phone to check the news about the tournament the Spanish woman was playing. She opened one of the two sports apps she used for that, and the first thing that came up was a photo of Leire on the court, racket in hand, gaze turned to one side. A candid shot that existed only to put a face to an article—one that made Kate feel her heart rise into her throat and the blood drain from her cheeks.

It was a straightforward post, and she only read the headline: Leire Cobos renews her contract with Costel for five years and fourteen million euros.

She looked at the photo of the tennis player again and realized they'd used that particular one because it showed the brand's logo perfectly—on her shirt, her socks, and her wristbands.

She closed the app, unsettled, and then noticed she had a message from her.

I'm guessing you won't read this before the news breaks. I wanted to tell you over the phone, but Isaac put it out without asking me. I'm sorry—call me when you wake up and we'll talk.

Kate didn't know what she felt right then, but the last thing she wanted was to talk to her. So she left her phone in the bedroom and went downstairs to have breakfast with Diane and Rachel, who, despite having only been at her place for a couple of days, was spending far more hours with Kate than the two Diane had promised. And she didn't mind; she was comfortable with that woman, felt understood by her, and that helped her open up. On top of that, she found it useful to listen to her stories and her strategies—what she did when she missed competing, how she fought her frustrations, how she learned to manage anxiety attacks. Kate had become a sponge, soaking up every word from the former swimmer and storing it away for when she'd need it, because she was certain she'd go through something very similar.

"It's like grief," she'd told her the night before over dinner. "Like someone you love deeply has died and you have to get through it—except it's not a person, it's your career."