Page 15 of Gamebreaker

"Cam?" Surprise, but not anger. That was something. "You okay?"

"Yeah." I started walking again, letting my legs cool down. "Sorry. I know it's late."

"It's fine. I was up watching film." Of course she was. Karlie Martinez had always been as obsessive about basketball as I was—one of the things that had worked between us, back when things worked. Also one of the things that hadn't, when the obsession became an excuse for everything I couldn't give her. "What's wrong?"

Straight to it. Three years since we'd broken up, and Karlie still knew me better than almost anyone. She could hear the truth beneath the surface of my words.

"Can't sleep."

"So you called your ex at midnight." Amusement colored her voice now, warm and familiar. "That's bold, even for you."

I didn't answer. Didn't know how to explain what I was doing, why I'd called, or what I even needed.

"Cam. What happened?"

"Got into it with someone tonight. Said things I shouldn't have."

"Did you apologize?"

"Tried. She wasn't interested."

The silence stretched between us: three years and three hundred miles and all the history we'd never quite put to rest. When Karlie spoke again, her voice was knowing, colored with the kind of gentle perception that had always unnerved me.

"She, huh?"

I'd walked right into that one.

"It's not like that."

"Right. What's her name?"

"Karlie, it’s really not like that at all.”

"Come on. You called me at midnight. The least you can do is tell me her name."

"Harper." Saying it out loud felt unsafe, like admitting something I wasn't ready to acknowledge. Like the name itself carried weight.

"And what did you fight about?"

I could've deflected. Should've. Karlie would've let me. Instead, I heard myself say, "She called me fake. Said I'm hiding who I really am, that my whole public image is a carefully constructed lie."

I could hear Karlie breathing on the other end of the line, could picture her in her apartment in Sacramento, probably still in her Sacramento Sol practice gear, game film paused on her laptop. She'd be sitting cross-legged on her couch, the way she always did when she was thinking. Some things don't change, even when everything else does.

"She's right," Karlie said finally.

My jaw locked. "It's privacy."

"No. It's fear." The gentleness was gone from Karlie's voice now, replaced by something with a rougher edge. "We both know that, Cam. We've had this conversation before."

"I have a career. Endorsements. A reputation that—"

"That, what? Matters more than being yourself? More than being happy?" Karlie's voice softened again, and somehow that was worse. "This is the same conversation we had three years ago. You're still choosing the brand over the person. Still afraid to choose love over career.”

I stopped walking, stood in front of someone's perfect house with warm lights glowing in the windows. I could see movement inside. Shadows of a couple, people living normal lives, the kind of simple domesticity I'd never let myself want because wanting it felt like admitting I was missing something.

"It's not the same."

"Isn't it?" Karlie sighed, and I could hear the sadness in it. Not anger. Just sorrow for both of us. "Look, I'm not trying to hurt you. But you called me at midnight to talk about a woman who called you out for hiding. That tells me everything I need to know."