Page 175 of Gamebreaker

Her hand found mine in the dark and laced our fingers together. Her thumb brushed over the hair tie on my wrist.

"Hey," she said, very quietly.

"Hey."

There was a pause, the good kind.

"You okay?"

She wasn't asking about my body. I'd learned the weight of her questions.

I thought about it honestly.

"I don't have a word for it," I said. "There should be a word for when what you've been afraid of for twelve years turns out to be nothing like you feared."

She was quiet, thinking.

"Relief," she offered. "But the deep kind. The kind that makes you cry."

"Yeah."

"There's probably a German word for it."

"There's a German word for everything."

"I'll find it," she said. "I'll look it up tomorrow and text it to you with a definition and seven follow-up questions."

"Of course you will."

"I'm very thorough." Her thumb moved slowly over my knuckles. "Cam."

"Yeah."

"You let me in," she said. "You actually let me in."

I was quiet for a moment.

"I thought it would feel like losing a part of me," I said. "Twelve years of thinking it would." I pulled her closer. "It didn't. It felt like finding a room I didn't know I had. And you're the one who opened the door."

The silence that followed was the best kind, full instead of empty.

"I've been saving my caption," she said quietly against my collarbone.

She tipped her head back to look at the ceiling with me, her thumb still moving over my hand.

"I was going to brainstorm it a bit more," she said. "You know me. I don't post anything without at least three drafts. But I think I have it."

"What is it?"

She paused. I could feel her deciding whether to say it.

"The best thing I almost let fear take from me," she said.

I held that for a long moment.

"That's about you," I said. "Not me."

"It's about both of us. That's the point." She turned her head on my chest. "Too honest?"