Let's go (WNBA) Lesbians!

The arrival terminal at Bradley International Airport was a chaotic sea of post-holiday exhaustion. It was the afternoon of December 27th, and the terminal was crammed with travelers dragging oversized, scuffed suitcases, their faces wearing the distinct, weary expressions of people who had spent just a few days too many navigating the intricate dynamics of extended family.

Near the baggage claim carousels, a stark contrast to the shuffling crowd stood out. A small cluster of women’s basketball players from the University of Connecticut stood in a loose circle, their tall, athletic frames instantly recognizable in their matching navy and grey team-issued hoodies. At the center of the group was Paige Bueckers. She stood with her hands shoved deep into the front pocket of her sweatshirt, her hood pulled up slightly, her eyes scanning the sliding glass doors of the security exit with an intensity so fierce it looked almost painful.

“She’s literally gonna be here in like two minutes, P,” Nika Mühl said, her thick Croatian accent cutting through the ambient roar of the terminal. She reached out, nudging Paige’s shoulder with a sympathetic but thoroughly amused grin. “Relax before you burn a hole through the glass.”

“I am relaxed,” Paige muttered, though she didn't look away from the doors for a single fraction of a second. Her right leg was bouncing in a rapid, restless rhythm against the linoleum floor, her fingers tightly clenching into fists inside her pockets.

Caroline Ducharme smirked from where she was leaning casually against a structural concrete pillar, a travel pillow slung over her arm. “You don't look relaxed. You look like you’re about to actively jump out of your own skin.”

“Shut up, Caro,” Paige snapped playfully, though her cheeks flushed a faint pink.

A few feet away, Dorka Juhász let out a soft, melodic laugh, the sound warm and deeply teasing. “I think this is cute. Very, very cute. I have never seen the great Paige Bueckers this paralyzed by a security gate.”

Paige opened her mouth to fire back a quick, defensive retort, but the words died instantly in her throat.

The automatic sliding doors parted. Walking through the threshold, trailing a small black carry-on suitcase slung over one shoulder, was Azzi Fudd. Her thick, dark curls were pulled back away from her face in a loose, casual bun, a few stray tendrils framing her jaw. She was wearing simple black leggings and an incredibly oversized, faded grey vintage sweatshirt—a sweatshirt that Paige recognized instantly because it belonged to her, a piece of clothing Azzi had stolen from her dorm room months ago.

Across the crowded, noisy terminal, through the sea of moving strangers and screaming children, their eyes met.

The shift was instantaneous. The noise of the airport seemed to drop into absolute silence, the flashing arrival monitors and the clanging baggage carousels fading into a distant, irrelevant blur. Everything else simply fell away.

The moment Azzi spotted her, a massive, genuinely beautiful smile broke across her features, a bright expression that made Paige’s chest ache with a sudden, violent surge of emotion. Without a single second of hesitation, Azzi shifted her grip on her suitcase and began moving, weaving through the thick crowd of travelers with a light, purposeful stride, her bag bouncing rhythmically against her hip.

Paige didn't wait. She met her halfway, her long strides eating up the distance across the terminal floor.

When they collided, it was with a heavy, breathless force—the kind of physical impact that spoke to two long weeks of agonizing separation, of nightly phone calls that never quite felt like enough, and of missing someone so deeply that the absence became a tangible, aching weight in the center of your ribs.

Paige wrapped her long arms securely around Azzi’s waist, her strength lifting Azzi completely off her feet for a brief, gravity-defying moment. She buried her face into the warm, familiar curve of Azzi’s neck, inhaling deeply. Azzi smelled of the cold winter air outside and the clean, comforting scent of her laundry detergent. Azzi’s arms locked tightly around Paige’s shoulders, one of her hands sliding up to cup the back of Paige’s head, her fingers threading through the loose blonde strands of her hair as if anchoring her to the earth.

“Hi,” Azzi whispered directly against Paige’s ear. The small, breathless word vibrated straight through Paige’s entire body, settling the frantic racing of her pulse.

“Hi,” Paige breathed back, her voice thick. Slowly, reluctantly, she set Azzi’s feet back down onto the floor, but she refused to let go. She pulled back just a few inches, just enough to look down into Azzi’s face. Her hands moved up from Azzi's waist, her palms gently framing the soft line of her jawline. “God, Az... I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” Azzi’s thumb reached up, tracing a slow, comforting line along Paige’s cheekbone, her dark eyes soft, searching, and filled with an intense, quiet scrutiny. “Are you okay?”

Paige swallowed hard, the memory of Montana flashing briefly behind her eyes before she forced it down. She nodded, a genuine smile finally reaching her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Better now. Way better.”

They stood there in the middle of the terminal traffic for a moment longer, their foreheads pressed together, their breathing synchronizing as they simply took each other in. Around them, the rest of the UConn players had the decency to pretend they were suddenly deeply fascinated by the baggage claim monitors, though Paige could clearly hear Nika’s quiet, dramatic “aww” from a few feet away, followed immediately by Caroline’s muffled chuckle.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Aaliyah Edwards called out, her voice booming over the terminal noise with a bright, authoritative grin as she hoisted her duffel bag. “The team bus is waiting outside, and we got a highway to catch before the snow picks up.”

Reluctantly, Paige stepped back, breaking the close embrace, but she immediately lowered her hand, threading her fingers tightly through Azzi’s. She locked their knuckles together, a silent, stubborn refusal to let go completely now that she had her back. Azzi didn't protest; she just squeezed Paige’s hand in return, offering that private, knowing smile that was reserved strictly for Paige, and together they turned to follow their teammates toward the airport exits.

The charter bus ride back to campus was a loud, familiar routine. The interior smelled of stale upholstery and damp winter coats, the heater humming loudly as the vehicle navigated the highway back toward Storrs. In the very back row, tucked away from the rest of the team, Paige and Azzi sat pressed tightly together. The space was small, their thighs flushing against one another from hip to knee, Paige’s long arm stretched out comfortably along the back of Azzi’s seat, her fingers lightly brushing the fabric of Azzi's shoulder. Azzi’s head was resting heavily against Paige’s shoulder, her eyes half-closed in pure exhaustion from the cross-country travel.

Their hands remained linked between them, resting on the seat cushion.

“Your dad?” Azzi asked quietly, her voice barely a whisper, completely audible only to Paige over the deep, low rumble of the bus engine.

Paige tilted her head down, her lips brushing the soft fabric of Azzi’s hair. “Good,” she murmured, a genuine sense of relief coloring her tone. “Really, really good, actually. He was incredible, Az. I’ll tell you everything later, when we’re back in the dorm.”

Azzi nodded against her shoulder, her cheek rubbing against the cotton of Paige’s hoodie. She paused for a beat, the silence stretching between them before she spoke again, her voice dropping even lower. “And your mom?”

Paige’s jaw tightened instinctively, a sharp, cold knot forming in her stomach as the memory of the suffocating Montana living room flashed through her mind. She looked out the dark bus window at the passing highway lights. “Later,” Paige repeated, her voice softer this time, carrying a faint, vulnerable edge. “We'll talk about it later.”

Azzi lifted her head off Paige’s shoulder, looking up at her with a flash of deep, intuitive concern flickering in her dark eyes. She knew Paige’s tells; she knew the exact shift in her posture that signaled a retreat. Sensing the sudden wall, Paige managed a small, reassuring smile and leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Azzi’s forehead.

“I’m okay, Az. I promise,” Paige whispered against her skin. “I’m really okay. Just... later. When we have actual time.”

“Okay,” Azzi agreed softly, accepting the boundary without pushing. She settled back down against Paige’s side, her head returning to its spot on her shoulder. Her thumb began to trace slow, steady circles on the back of Paige’s hand—a rhythmic, soothing motion that Paige had come to associate entirely with safety, a silent language that promised she was no longer alone in the dark.

They had exactly one practice back on campus before the logistical schedule required them to pack up and leave for their away game against Providence. The energy inside Gampel Pavilion that morning was electric, buzzing with a sharp, renewed focus. The players were refreshed from the short winter break, eager to get back to the familiar sanctuary of basketball, back to the grueling, predictable comfort of their daily routine.

Paige felt the shift the moment her sneakers hit the hardwood. There was a unique, profound comfort to the court beneath her feet—the sharp squeaking of rubber soles, the heavy, echoing rhythm of bouncing balls, and the collective callouts of plays they had run a thousand times until they were burned into their muscle memory. It was a world where everything made sense, where the rules were clear and the outcomes were determined by effort and execution, a stark contrast to the messy, unpredictable realities of family.

But mostly, throughout the entire practice session, Paige felt Azzi.

It didn't matter what drill they were running or what side of the floor they were on. Every pass Paige delivered, every sharp cut Azzi made to the basket, every momentary transition play—their eyes met across the court with absolute precision. It was as if they had developed their own private, unspoken language during those five intense months of rehabilitation and training in Virginia over the summer, and two weeks of physical separation hadn't dulled the frequency one bit. They moved together like water—instinctive, fluid, and entirely synchronized.

During a standard scrimmage transition, Paige drove hard down the left lane, drawing two defenders with her as she feigned a drive to the rim. Without looking, relying entirely on pure intuition, she whipped a sharp, behind-the-back pass into the pocket of the right corner. Azzi was already there, stepping perfectly into the catch. She rose into her shooting motion in one beautiful, fluid stroke, the ball leaving her fingertips and snapping cleanly through the net with a crisp, satisfying snap.

As they ran back down the court to set up the defense, their eyes locked, and the bright, shared grin they exchanged was worth more than any points on a scoreboard. It was a declaration of complete connection.

“Y’all are actually disgusting,” Nika said later during a brief water break, leaning against the baseline scorer's table and panting for breath, though a wide, affectionate smile was plastered across her face. “Like, in a cute way, obviously, but still. It’s too much before noon.”

“Jealous, Mühl?” Paige shot back, a cocky, familiar smirk returning to her face as she took a long swig from her water bottle.

“In your dreams, Bueckers,” Nika snorted, grabbing a damp towel from the rack and throwing it directly at Paige’s head. Paige caught it with one hand, laughing easily, the sound bright and unburdened.

After practice concluded, while the players were stretching out their tight muscles on the floor, Associate Head Coach Chris Dailey pulled Paige and Azzi aside near the locker room entrance. CD stood with her clipboard cradled against her hip, her expression serious but her eyes neutral.

“Bus leaves at exactly three o'clock tomorrow afternoon for Providence,” CD told them, her tone strictly business. “We’re staying overnight at the hotel, game’s at seven o'clock the following evening. The official room assignments are posted on the board inside. Make sure you check them before you leave today.”

Paige and Azzi exchanged a quick, subtle glance, their expressions dropping into careful neutrality. Before the winter break, the coaching staff had consistently assigned them to separate rooms with different teammates—a deliberate, protective strategy designed to maintain a strict semblance of team normalcy and to ensure their relationship didn't create an obvious distraction or fuel public speculation. Paige understood the logic, but as she looked at Azzi now, the separation felt different. Things felt more settled between them, more real, and the thought of being forced into separate spaces after everything that had happened in Montana felt like a heavy, unnecessary barrier.

The following afternoon, the team bus ride to Rhode Island was a loud, chaotic affair, unfolding in the exact way team road trips always did. Aaliyah Edwards had successfully commandeered the aux cord at the front of the bus, blasting a high-energy mix of rap and R&B that had half the roster singing along at the top of their lungs, using water bottles as makeshift microphones.

Paige sat with Azzi once again, tucked into their usual spot toward the back. Their thighs were pressed tightly together against the chill filtering in from the emergency exit window, Paige’s long arm stretched out along the vinyl headrest behind Azzi’s shoulders, her fingers idly playing with the hood of Azzi’s sweatshirt.

“You think our rooms are gonna be anywhere near each other?” Azzi asked, her voice low, pitched just beneath the volume of the music blasting from the speakers.

“I hope so,” Paige murmured, her thumb brushing against Azzi’s shoulder. “I mean, I know we’re supposed to be keeping things entirely low-key and professional on road trips, but...”

“But you want to see me,” Azzi finished for her, a small, knowing smirk playing on her lips as she tilted her head up to look at her.

“I always want to see you, Az. That’s not a secret,” Paige said softly, her eyes warming.

Azzi smiled, a soft, genuine expression, and leaned her weight back into Paige’s side, letting the heavy vibration of the bus lull them into a comfortable silence for the remainder of the drive.

When the charter bus finally pulled up to the hotel—a large, polished Marriott situated near the Providence campus—the players piled into the warm lobby, their heavy rolling bags clattering against the marble floor. Everyone huddled in a loose group near the front desk, waiting impatiently while CD handled the check-in logistics and began organizing the plastic room keys. Paige bounced restlessly on her toes, her anxiety returning as she watched CD sort through the stack of envelopes, calling out names and numbers.

“Alright, listen up,” CD called out over the chatter. “Aaliyah, you’re with Dorka in 410. Paige, you’re in 412 with Nika. Azzi, you’re in 415 with Caroline.”

Paige felt her face fall instantly, a sharp pang of disappointment hitting her stomach. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but she caught Nika’s eye across the lobby. The Croatian guard was already looking at her, a highly perceptive, knowing glint in her eyes. Nika didn't say anything; she just gave a subtle, slow nod of her head as she collected her keycard from CD.

Paige grabbed her own key, shoulder-checking her duffel bag as they headed toward the crowded elevators. The team spread out across the fourth floor, the hallway filling with the sounds of slamming doors and structural chatter as everyone began to unpack.

Paige walked into room 412, tossing her heavy duffel bag onto the luggage rack near the closet. She had just sat down on the edge of the mattress to unlace her boots when a sharp, rhythmic knock sounded against the wooden door.

She stood up and pulled the door open, expecting a manager with a schedule. Instead, she found Nika standing in the hallway, her bulky backpack slung over both shoulders, a wide grin on her face. Standing right behind her was Caroline, holding her own overnight bag.

“So,” Nika said, pushing right past Paige into the room without an invitation, dropping her backpack onto the nearest chair. “The team had a little meeting while we were in the elevator.”

“What?” Paige asked, her brow furrowing in complete confusion as she looked between her two teammates. “What are you guys talking about?”

Caroline leaned against the doorframe, her grin widening. “We’re switching rooms, Paige. Nika is gonna come room with me in 415, and you and Azzi are taking this room. Together.”

Paige’s mouth fell open, her brain stalling out as she processed the words. “Wait... what? Are you seriously doing that?”

“Seriously,” Nika confirmed, her usual sarcastic edge softening into something deeply warm and genuine. She stepped closer, looking Paige dead in the eye. “Look, you two have been physically apart for two weeks over the break. We are your friends, Paige. We are not monsters. We can see how much you needed to be next to her.”

“But—what about CD? What about Geno?” Paige stammered, the engrained fear of breaking team rules kicking in. “They’ll notice. If they find out we shifted rooms, we're gonna be running baselines until our legs fall off.”

“They assigned the rooms for the hotel roster, yes, but we are just... rearranging the internal logistics,” Nika said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “As long as every single body is accounted for when they do the official bed check at eleven, they honestly do not care who is sleeping in which bed. And besides, Paige... everyone on this team knows. We’ve known for months. We’re just making it easier for you.”

Paige felt a sudden, heavy tightness form in her throat, a wave of profound emotion catching her completely off guard. She looked at Caroline, then back at Nika, her eyes shining slightly. “You guys... you really didn't have to do this for us.”

“We wanted to,” Caroline interrupted gently, stepping into the room to place a reassuring hand on Paige’s arm. “You’re our teammate, Paige. You’re our friend. We see how you look at her, and we see how she looks at you. You two are good together. You make each other genuinely happy, and after everything this team has been through, we protect that. So yeah, we’re doing this.”

“Plus,” Nika added, her signature smirk returning full force as she shoved Paige toward the doorway, “you have been moping around the facility like a sad, pathetic little puppy all day long. It is ruining the team vibe. Go get your girl. She’s probably unpacking her stuff in 415 right now.”

A breathless, wet laugh escaped Paige’s lips. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Nika said, but she reached out and pulled Paige into a quick, fierce hug, burying her face in her shoulder for a second before letting go. “Now get out of here. Go.”

Paige didn't need to be told twice. She grabbed her duffel bag off the rack and practically sprinted down the carpeted hallway of the fourth floor. She stopped outside room 415, her heart hammering against her ribs with an entirely different kind of excitement, and knocked quickly on the wood.

The door swung open a few seconds later, and Azzi stood there, a stack of folded t-shirts in her hands. The moment she saw Paige standing there with her bags, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Paige? What’s wrong? Did you forget something?”

Paige couldn't help the massive, idiot grin that spread across her face. “So,” she said, her voice full of a breathless, bubbling joy. “Apparently, there’s been a change in the logistical schedule. We’re roommates.”

Azzi blinked, her brain trying to connect the dots. “What? What do you mean? CD said—_”

“Nika and Caroline switched with us,” Paige explained, stepping across the threshold and kicking the door shut behind her with her heel. She dropped her heavy duffel bag to the floor with a loud thud. “They organized a whole plan. This is our room, Az. Just you and me.”

The confusion on Azzi’s face dissolved instantly, transitioning through shock before landing squarely on a look of pure, unadulterated joy. “Really? They actually did that?”

“Really,” Paige said.

Azzi dropped the folded t-shirts onto the nearest desk, reached out, and grabbed the front of Paige’s hoodie, pulling her forward with an eager, sudden strength. Paige’s arms wrapped instantly around Azzi’s waist, lifting her completely off the carpeted floor and spinning her around in the small space of the hotel room. Azzi let out a bright, unrestrained laugh—a sound so full of pure relief that it made Paige’s heart soar.

When Paige finally set her down, they stayed locked in each other’s space, both of them grinning like absolute fools, their chests heaving slightly from the sudden rush of adrenaline.

“I can’t believe they did that for us,” Azzi whispered, her hands resting comfortably on Paige’s shoulders, her thumbs lightly brushing the fabric.

“I know,” Paige said, her voice dropping into a soft, reverent register. “We have the absolute best teammates in the country.”

“We really do,” Azzi agreed softly.

They stood there for a long, quiet moment, just looking into each other’s eyes, the reality of their shared space settling over them. Then, Paige leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn't like the frantic, breathless collision at the airport terminal, nor was it like the hurried, secretive touches they had stolen in the corners of Gampel Pavilion. This kiss was soft, sweet, and entirely unhurried. It was the kind of deep, grounding kiss that took its time, carrying an unspoken conversation: I missed you. I am right here. We are completely safe now.

When they finally pulled apart, Azzi’s eyes were bright, shining with a soft, affectionate light. “Come on,” she said, her fingers tugging playfully at Paige’s sleeve. “Let’s get settled before we have to go down for the team dinner.”

They unpacked their belongings, moving around the small hotel room with an easy, highly practiced familiarity that had been forged over years of being best friends long before they became anything more. Paige hung her game uniform up in the small closet, smoothing out the fabric, while Azzi organized her various toiletries along the marble counter of the bathroom.

Once the luggage was put away, they turned their attention to the beds. It was a standard hotel room with two double beds separated by a small nightstand, but they had spent enough summers traveling together for USA Basketball tournaments to know exactly how to fix that. Working in perfect sync without needing to exchange a single word, they grabbed the heavy wooden nightstand, lifting it out of the center lane and sliding it to the far wall near the window. Then, using their collective athletic strength, they pushed the two frame structures together, aligning the mattresses until they formed one massive, continuous sleeping surface. They rearranged the crisp white sheets and blankets, layering the heavy comforters across the combined space until it felt like a fortress.

By the time they finished, the early evening sun was beginning to dip below the Providence skyline, casting long, deep orange and amber shadows across the hotel carpet. They had an official team dinner scheduled in about an hour, but for right now, the time belonged entirely to them.

Paige flopped heavily onto the expansive bed, letting out a long, dramatic sigh as her back hit the pillows. She opened her arms wide, looking up at the ceiling. “Come here,” she ordered softly.

Azzi didn't hesitate for a single second. She climbed onto the mattress, moving fluidly until she was curled tightly into Paige’s left side. She rested her head directly over Paige’s chest, listening to the steady, reassuring rhythm of her heartbeat, while her right leg hooked comfortably over Paige’s thighs, anchoring them together.

Paige wrapped both of her long arms securely around Azzi’s frame, pulling her in until there was absolutely no space left between them. She exhaled a slow, deep breath, feeling the deep-seated tension she had been carrying in her shoulders for two solid weeks finally begin to break apart and dissolve into the warmth of the mattress.

“This is so much better,” Paige murmured, her chin resting against the top of Azzi’s head.

“So much better,” Azzi agreed, her voice a soft, muffled sound against the cotton of Paige’s shirt. Her fingers began to trace slow, idle patterns across Paige’s stomach, moving lazily over the fabric as they simply enjoyed the luxury of being allowed to exist without a guard up.

They lay there in the comfortable, heavy silence for a while, just breathing together, letting the physical reality of each other’s presence erase the distance of the map. Outside the large hotel window, the winter sky transitioned through deep shades of violet and bruised gold.

Azzi shifted slightly, her chin resting on Paige’s chest as she looked up at her, her dark eyes serious but incredibly tender. “Tell me about your break, Paige,” she said quietly. “Your dad. Your mom. Tell me all of it. I want to know.”

Paige’s chest tightened slightly at the mention of her mother, a faint echo of that familiar, suffocating anxiety rising in her throat. But she looked down at Azzi, seeing the absolute safety reflected in her eyes, and she took a deep breath. She nodded.

“Okay,” Paige said softly. “Yeah. I’ll tell you.”

She started with Montana, her voice dropping into a low, vulnerable register as she laid out the details she had kept hidden during their brief phone calls. She told Azzi about the cold, immediate reception at the airport, the way the house had felt like an entirely alien environment, and the way her mother had looked at her like she was a stranger—a problem that needed to be managed or fixed rather than a daughter. She described the exact moment in the armchair, the words hanging in the air, and the absolute, vacuum-like silence that had followed when her mother simply chose to turn around and walk out of the room.

As Paige spoke, her voice cracked slightly, describing the feeling of drowning inside that house, which had driven her out into the freezing night to sit in the deep snow against a pine tree just so she could catch her breath.

The moment the words left Paige’s mouth, Azzi’s hand moved, her fingers finding Paige’s hand and gripping it with a fierce, unyielding strength. She squeezed tightly, holding on like a literal lifeline, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of intense sorrow and protective anger.

Then Paige shifted the story, a small, genuine note of warmth returning to her tone as she transitioned to Minnesota. She told her about her dad picking her up in his truck, the smell of tobacco and winter air, and the terrifying, breathless moment where she had simply forced herself to spit the truth out while he was driving down the highway.

“The truck didn’t even swerve, Az,” Paige said, a soft, emotional laugh escaping her lips. “He didn’t even hesitate. He just reached over, took my hand, and asked me if I was happy. If I was happy with you.”

Azzi lifted her head completely off Paige’s chest, her eyes wide and soft as she absorbed the words. “He... he really said that?”

“Yeah,” Paige whispered, reaching up with her free hand to gently brush a loose curl away from Azzi’s forehead. “He told me that I was still the exact same girl he raised me to be. And then he told me that he liked you. He said you were pretty great, and that if you could manage to keep me in line, you basically deserved a medal.”

A tear finally spilled over Azzi’s lower lashes, tracking down her cheek, but a beautiful, bright smile broke through her emotion. “Paige...”

“I mean it, Az. He’s completely right. You are pretty great,” Paige said, her voice turning thick and deeply earnest. “You’re... you’re everything to me.”

“I’m so sorry about your mom, Paige,” Azzi whispered, leaning up to press a soft, lingering kiss against Paige’s jawline, her breath warm against her skin. “It’s not fair. It’s so completely wrong that she made you feel like that.”

“I know,” Paige swallowed hard, looking up at the ceiling as she fought to keep her own tears at bay. “It hurts. It really fucking hurts, if I’m being honest. It’s like this heavy, dull ache that I know is just gonna sit there for a long time. But...”

“But what?” Azzi asked, her thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that had escaped down Paige’s temple.

Paige met her eyes, and there was a new, lighter expression settling into her features—a distinct, fragile sense of freedom that hadn't been there before the winter break. “But I’m happier now, Az. Even with my mom being... the way she is. Because for the first time in my life, I’m not lying anymore. I’m not hiding in the shadows, constantly terrified of someone finding out. I told them the absolute truth. It didn't go the way I wanted with her, but I did it. I was honest about who I am, and I chose myself.”

Azzi’s hand came up, her palm framing Paige’s cheek, her fingers holding her face with an incredible, reverent gentleness. “You were so brave, Paige. So incredibly brave.”

“I didn't feel brave,” Paige whispered, a soft, self-deprecating chuckle escaping her. “I felt like I was physically vibrating out of my skin.”

“You are,” Azzi insisted, her tone fierce and unyielding. “You are the bravest person I know. And I am so proud of you. For telling them. For being honest. For choosing your own life.”

“I chose us,” Paige corrected softly, her eyes locking onto Azzi’s with absolute conviction. “I chose this. You and me. That's what made it worth it.”

“Yeah,” Azzi whispered, her smile returning, soft and full of a deep, quiet peace. “You and me.”

They kissed again, the emotion in the room shifting, growing deeper and heavier as the words settled between them. The slow, rhythmic tracing of Azzi’s fingers against Paige’s stomach became more deliberate, her hand drifting slightly as the fabric of Paige’s oversized t-shirt shifted on the mattress.

The sleeve of Paige’s shirt had ridden up over her shoulder, exposing the pale, thin, and silvered lines that crisscrossed the delicate skin of her forearm—marks from a darker, heavier period of her life that had been fought entirely in the shadows.

Azzi didn't gasp. She didn't pull her hand away in shock or discomfort. She had known about these marks for a long time now; she had held Paige through the tears that came with them. But tonight, in the quiet dimness of the hotel room, after hearing about the rejection in Montana, the sight of them felt heavier, carrying a sharp, painful context. She knew exactly how close Paige had been pushed to that edge while sitting alone in the snow.

Azzi shifted her weight, propping herself up on one elbow so she could look Paige directly in the eye. She didn't let go of Paige’s arm. Instead, she lowered her gaze, her touch becoming incredibly light and tender as the pad of her thumb traced the line of the oldest scar, her movement filled with a profound, quiet reverence that made Paige’s throat instantly clamp shut.

“How are you doing, Paige? Really?” Azzi asked softly, her dark eyes searching Paige’s face with a fierce, protective intensity. “I know how brutal it was with your mom. I’ve been sitting in my room for two days, so terrified that the rejection would... that it would make you want to go back to that dark place. That you’d think you needed to hurt yourself again.”

Paige looked down at their joined hands, her eyes tracking the movement of Azzi’s thumb against her scarred skin. In the past, whenever anyone had looked at her arms, a crushing, suffocating wave of shame and humiliation would have paralyzed her, forcing her to pull away and hide. But looking at Azzi right now, she didn't feel a single ounce of shame. She just felt a profound, beautiful sense of complete honesty.

“I won't lie to you, Az. The urge was there,” Paige admitted, her voice dropping so low it was barely a whisper in the quiet room. “When she looked at me like I was a stranger... like I was some kind of broken object she needed to fix or ignore... that old voice in my head started screaming again. It started telling me that I deserved to hurt because I had disappointed her. It told me that the pain was the only thing I had control over.”

Azzi’s eyes filled with hot tears, but she kept her grip steady, her thumb continuing its slow, soothing stroke against Paige's skin. “But you didn't do it.”

“I didn't,” Paige confirmed, a genuine, strong note entering her voice. She reached up with her other hand, gently tucking a stray curl behind Azzi’s ear. “I sat out there in the snow, and I just kept thinking about what your mom told me back in Virginia over the summer. And I kept thinking about you. I thought about the way you look at me when I’m at my absolute worst. I realized... my mom might not be able to see the real me right now, but you do. My dad does. Nika and Caroline do. I realized I don't have to punish my own body for her inability to love who I actually am.”

Azzi leaned down, her eyes closing as she pressed a slow, lingering, and deeply fervent kiss to the exact center of Paige’s forearm, her lips resting right over the thin silver lines. It wasn't a kiss born out of pity, nor was it a gesture of sorrow; it was a profound, intentional act of complete reclamation.

“I need you to understand something, Paige Bueckers,” Azzi said, lifting her head, her voice vibrating with a sudden, fierce intensity that made Paige’s breath hitch. “Even if she never comes around, even if she stays entirely stuck in that fake version of you she manufactured in her own head... you are never going to be alone in this world again. You have a real family here. You have a family on that bus, and you have me. I am going to love you enough for the both of us until you can finally learn to love yourself completely. I am not going anywhere. Do you hear me?”

“I know,” Paige whispered, a single tear finally escaping her eye and trekking silently into her hair line. “I know you won't. I really felt it when my dad told me he was proud of me. It was like... it was like I finally had permission from someone to just... exist. To just be Paige. I don't feel the need to hide behind the physical pain as much anymore, because the truth feels bigger.”

“Good,” Azzi murmured, pulling Paige’s scarred arm up against her own chest, holding it firmly right over the steady, rapid beating of her heart. “Because these marks? They don't scare me, Paige. They never have. They just remind me every single day of how incredibly hard you fought to stay alive, how hard you fought to stay here with me. You are the strongest person I have ever met.”

Paige shifted her weight on the mattress, rolling them over in one fluid movement until she was hovering directly over Azzi, her long frame framing her perfectly on the pushed-together beds. Their noses were almost touching, their breathing warm and mingled in the space between them. The very last rays of the orange winter sunset caught the deep gold flecks in Azzi’s dark eyes, making them burn like embers.

“I chose us,” Paige said, her voice firm, clear, and entirely anchored. “I told the truth because I wanted a real life, Az. I wanted a life where I could hold your hand in public without feeling like I was committing a crime against my own family. My mom’s reaction hurts... yeah, it really fucking hurts. But losing you would hurt a million times more. Being a lie would hurt more.”

Azzi’s hands slid slowly up Paige’s arms, her palms locking over her shoulders, anchoring her down. “We’re going to figure it all out, Paige. One single day at a time. No more hiding from the world. And absolutely no more hurting yourself in the dark.”

“No more hiding,” Paige repeated, the three words sounding exactly like a sacred vow in the quiet room.

She lowered her head, pressing her lips to Azzi’s in a deep, slow, and thoroughly consuming kiss that carried the full weight of everything they had survived to get to this hotel room. When they finally pulled apart, the shadows in the room had deepened into the quiet dark of evening, the world outside their locked door fading away into complete irrelevance.

The winter solstice had brought a bitter, biting chill to New England, but inside Bradley International Airport, the atmosphere was suffocatingly warm, thick with the scent of stale jet fuel, damp wool, and the frantic energy of holiday travelers. For the members of the UConn Huskies women's basketball team, the terminal was a temporary crossroads. They had earned nearly a week off around Christmas—their grueling final exams were finally behind them, the relentless practice schedule had mercifully let up for a few days, and their next competitive matchup wasn’t until December 28th. Now, stood in loose clusters near the security checkpoints, the players were preparing to go their separate ways, scattering across the country for a rare, coveted winter break.

Paige adjusted the heavy straps of her backpack, hoisting the weight higher onto her shoulders with a low, weary sigh. She looked over at Azzi, who was standing beside her, leaning casually against a structural pillar. Azzi was the picture of unruffled serenity, calmly sipping from a plastic cup of iced coffee as if the chaotic sea of travelers rushing around them didn’t exist.

“I swear to God, imma spend like half of my actual break trapped on a plane,” Paige muttered, rolling her eyes in mock irritation, though the fatigue underlying her voice was real enough. Her itinerary was exhausting just to think about: she was scheduled to spend the first leg of the holiday with her mother in Montana, before catching another series of flights to spend the remaining days with her dad in Minnesota. From there, she’d have to immediately fly back to Connecticut to meet the team in Storrs before they departed for a high-stakes road game against Texas.

“You’ll be okay,” Azzi said softly, her voice a steadying anchor amid the terminal's ambient roar. She tilted the plastic cup, offering the straw toward Paige with a subtle, encouraging nod. As Paige leaned in to take a sip of the sweet, comforting caffeine, Azzi’s dark eyes darted quickly around the immediate vicinity, scanning the crowd with a practiced, cautious vigilance before landing squarely back on Paige’s face. She leaned a fraction closer, dropping her voice to a barely audible whisper. “Are you... are you gonna tell your parents? About us?”

Paige swallowed the coffee, the cold liquid sharp against her throat. She swallowed hard again, the weight of the question settling heavily in her chest. She looked at Azzi—really looked at her—taking in the familiar, comforting details of her face. Slowly, deliberately, Paige nodded.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the sudden flutter of nerves in her stomach. “I’m gonna. It's time.”

A soft, genuinely beautiful smile broke across Azzi’s features, turning her eyes warm. She reached down, her fingers brushing fleetingly against the back of Paige’s hand—a touch so brief and subtle that to anyone watching, it would have looked entirely accidental, but to Paige, it felt like a jolt of electricity.

“I’m only a phone call away,” Azzi reassured her, her voice laced with an absolute, unwavering certainty. “Any time, Paige. Day or night, okay?” She glanced down at the screen of her phone as it vibrated with a notification, then let herself lean against Paige’s shoulder for just a brief, comforting moment. “My flight is gonna start to board pretty soon. I should probably head down the concourse.”

“I’ll walk you to your gate,” Paige replied instantly, not wanting to lose these last few minutes of shared space.

They walked slowly through the terminal, keeping a comfortable distance between them. Their hands swung close enough to touch, the warmth of their skin radiating across the small gap, but they were careful to ensure they never actually linked fingers. They knew the reality of their lives. People knew who they were—of course people knew who they were. They were in the heart of Connecticut, standing nearly six feet tall, and both of them were clad in their official, unmistakable navy and grey Husky team gear. Every few steps, they caught the lingering stares of fans, the subtle nudges between strangers, and the whispered recognition of their names. The Hartford airport was small enough that the walk didn’t take long, and within a few minutes, they arrived at the bustling waiting area for Azzi’s gate.

“I’ll see you in six days, Paige,” Azzi said softly, turning to face her. The departure gate was crowded, the gate agent already announcing the pre-boarding process over the crackling intercom. “And I’ll call you tonight. The second I land and get settled.”

“Six days,” Paige repeated, trying to convince herself it was a short amount of time.

They embraced. It was a friendly hug—highly practiced, entirely safe for public consumption. Their hands were placed respectfully over the bulky nylon fabric of each other’s backpacks, their bodies maintaining a polite, athletic distance, and the embrace lasted just a few seconds—short enough that no casual observer or eagle-eyed fan would ever question it. It was the tax they paid for their reality.

“Safe flight, Az,” Paige murmured.

“You too. Don't overthink everything on the way there.”

Paige stepped back, offering a small wave as Azzi turned her ticket over to the gate agent and disappeared down the long, carpeted jet bridge toward her plane. Paige stood there for a moment, watching the empty doorway, before turning on her heel to walk toward her own gate at the far end of the terminal.

She repeated the mantra in her head with every step she took. Six days. It’s only six days. I can do six days.

The flight to Montana was a long, fragmented journey through changing time zones and turbulent winter skies. Paige sat cramped in her window seat, her long legs awkwardly pressed against the seatback in front of her. She had a book resting in her lap—a thriller someone had recommended to her—but she didn't even attempt to open it. Instead, she spent the hours staring blankly out the thick plexiglass window. Below her, the earth was a vast, jagged expanse of white, capped by swirling banks of thick, heavy clouds that bled into a pale blue horizon. The monotonous, deep drone of the airplane's engines hummed through the cabin, lulling her into a fake, fragile sense of calm that did absolutely nothing to quiet the anxious racing of her thoughts.

By the time the plane finally touched down and taxied to the gate, the sky was already bruised with the dark purple hues of a mountain twilight. Paige grabbed her duffel bag and made her way through the terminal toward the baggage claim.

Her mother, Amy, was waiting for her just past the security exit, looking bright, cheerful, and perfectly bundled against the Montana cold. The moment she saw Paige, her face lit up, and she hurried forward to wrap her daughter in a tight, fragrant hug that smelled of expensive vanilla perfume and winter air.

Amy immediately filled the silence, her voice a rapid, animated stream of consciousness as they walked out to the parking lot. She talked about the holiday traffic, the unseasonable snowstorms they’d been having, the updates on Paige’s younger siblings, and her own plans for the upcoming Christmas dinner. She talked so much and so fluidly that Paige didn't have to contribute anything more than the occasional nod or a quiet, agreeable murmur.

Paige stared out the passenger side window as the SUV navigated the icy, snow-slicked roads leading away from the airport. Montana was beautiful—there was no denying the majestic, sweeping grandeur of the snow-capped mountains cutting into the sky—but it wasn’t her home. It had never been her home. It was simply a place she visited a couple of times a year to see her mom and her siblings, a temporary destination where she was expected to fit into a life that had moved on without her. It was a beautiful postcard, but it wasn't home.

“Did you bring a dress, honey?”

The sudden question broke through the fog of Paige’s thoughts. She tore her eyes away from the dark, blurring pine trees outside the window and stared blankly at her mother. “No,” Paige said, her brow furrowing slightly. “Why would I bring a dress?”

“Well, we’re going to go to church on Christmas Eve, of course,” Amy explained, keeping her eyes fixed on the icy road ahead. “The whole family is going, and I thought it would be nice if we all dressed up a bit for the service.”

“Okay,” Paige replied, her shoulders dropping in a subtle shrug as she leaned back against the headrest. “I mean, I brought nice clothes, Mom. Button-downs, tailored pants, good shoes. Just... no dress.”

Amy let out a soft, sharp huff through her nose. It was a tiny, understated sound, but to Paige’s hyper-attuned ears, it was a sound she was entirely too used to hearing. It was the familiar, unspoken note of maternal disappointment—the subtle, passive-aggressive frequency that communicated, without words, that Paige was somehow missing the mark. It was the sound of Paige not being quite enough, or rather, not being the specific version of a daughter her mother wished she was.

The conversation died right there. They fell into a heavy, uncomfortable silence, the only sound in the vehicle being the rhythmic, rhythmic thumping of the windshield wipers clearing the light flurry of snow.

Paige pulled her phone from her pocket, her thumb automatically sliding across the screen to unlock it. The home screen illuminated her face in the dark interior of the car. The background was a simple, candid photograph of her and Azzi. It was a picture they had taken years ago, back when they were just sixteen-year-old kids playing together on USA Basketball trips, long before the weight of college athletic stardom and the complex realities of adulthood had settled onto their shoulders. Back then, it had been a standard picture of two best friends. Now, looking at Azzi’s familiar smile in the glow of the screen, the image held an entirely different, deeply heavy significance. It was a lifeline.

For the rest of the evening, Paige went entirely through the motions. She arrived at the house, endured the chaotic, loud greetings from her stepfather and her younger siblings, and forced herself to smile. But they were standard, cosmetic smiles—the kind that crinkled the edges of her mouth but never quite managed to reach her eyes. She gave short, polite answers to their endless questions about the UConn season, offering just enough superficial detail to satisfy their curiosity while keeping the true depth of her exhaustion and her life safely below the surface. She agreed to every plan, nodded at every logistical schedule, and played the part of the dutiful, visiting athlete daughter just to keep the peace and keep people happy.

The only time she felt a genuine sense of normalcy, the only time the heavy weight in her chest lifted even a fraction, was later that night when her phone finally buzzed with a text message. It was Azzi. She had landed safely, and she had attached a bright, silly selfie of herself sandwiched tightly between her mother, Katie, and her dad, Tim, in their living room with her brothers draped over the couch and squeezing into the picture.

Looking at the photo, Paige’s heart gave a sudden, violent clench. It was the specific kind of physical ache that took the breath clean out of your lungs for a momentary second, making your head spin with a dizzying rush of emotion. It wasn’t a clench born out of wanting or jealousy; it was a profound, aching sense of missing someone. She felt a sudden, hot flush creep up her cheeks, and a couple of unexpected tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.

God, I miss her, she thought, her throat tightening.

She quickly wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, taking a long, stabilizing breath to steady herself. She waited a few moments for her features to settle, forced a neutral smile back onto her face, and headed back downstairs to join the family in the living room.

It was well past midnight, and the expansive Montana sky had long since turned into a pitch-black, starless void. The rest of the house was quiet, the younger kids having finally gone to bed, but the television in the living room was still blaring a cheesy, predictable holiday movie. Paige sat curled up in a large, overstuffed armchair in the corner of the room, her knees pulled tightly up to her chest. Her phone was cupped in both hands, the screen lighting up her face every few moments as her thumbs flew across the keyboard, rapidly exchanging messages with Azzi.

“Must you do that right now, Paige?”

The sharp, clipped voice cut through the room. Paige glanced up over the top of her phone. Her mother was sitting on the adjacent couch, looking over at her with a furrowed brow and a distinct expression of disapproval.

“I’ve already seen this movie, Mom,” Paige replied quietly, her tone defensive but kept low to avoid an argument. She turned her attention back down, tapping out a quick, reassuring reply to a joke Azzi had just sent.

Amy let out a long, dramatic sigh, shaking her head as she leaned back against the cushions. “You’re supposed to be here with us, Paige. This is our holiday time together. You're constantly glued to that screen, chatting away with...” Amy’s voice suddenly softened, her eyes tracking the gentle, completely involuntary smile that had just graced her daughter’s features as she read the latest text. A knowing, maternal look crossed her face. “Your boyfriend?”

The air in Paige’s lungs flew out in a sudden, violent rush, leaving her completely breathless as if she had just taken a hard, physical charge to the sternum. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs. She forced some oxygen back into her body through her nose, her fingers freezing over the glass screen of her phone.

“Ma, no. No boyfriend,” she finally spit out, her voice sounding tight and strained even to her own ears.

“Then who in the world has got you sitting over there smiling like that?” Amy asked, a light, teasing note in her voice that only made the knots in Paige’s stomach tighten further.

Paige sat entirely frozen. The television continued to murmur in the background, but to Paige, the room had gone completely silent. It’s now or never, the voice in her head whispered. The weight of the secret, the exhaustion of the traveling, and the intense desire to just be seen for exactly who she was collided all at once.

Paige swallowed hard, her throat dry. She looked across the room, her eyes moving between her mother and her stepfather, who was half-watching the conversation from the other side of the couch. Her hands began to shake—a noticeable, fine tremor born of pure adrenaline. She carefully set her phone down on the arm of the chair, pressing her palms flat against her denim-clad thighs to try to cover the tremors.

“It’s Azzi,” Paige said, her voice dropping into a firm, unyielding register.

The silence that followed was instant and suffocating, settling over the room like a heavy, physical blanket. Slowly, Paige lifted her chin, forcing herself to look up and meet her mother’s gaze.

Amy stared at her for a long, agonizing beat. Then, a tight, artificial, and deeply uncomfortable smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. She shook her head, a soft, dismissive chuckle escaping her lips. “Oh, you’re so cute, Paige. Azzi is amazing, you know we absolutely love her, but... honey, she’s a girl.”

Paige just stared at her mother, her eyes wide, her chest heaving with shallow breaths. She felt a desperate, agonizing hope rising in her throat, wishing with everything she had that her mother could somehow read the frantic, silent thoughts she was telepathically trying to send across the space between them.

“She is, Mom,” Paige said, her voice dropping to a whisper, but carrying a weight that anchored it in the room. “She’s a beautiful girl. And I’m... we’re dating.”

The room fell entirely silent. It wasn't the kind of quiet that brought peace or comfort; it was the terrifying, vacuum-like silence where every scrap of oxygen has been violently sucked out of the space, leaving an agonizing, pressurized void in its wake.

Amy’s artificial smile vanished entirely, her face going pale and completely rigid. “But... you’re not gay, Paige,” her mom said quietly, her voice trembling slightly as her eyes darted frantically between Paige and her husband, looking for some kind of reassurance that this was a joke.

“I am, Mom,” Paige whispered. She clenched her jaw, willing her voice not to waver, forcing herself to maintain eye contact even as her vision began to blur. “I am gay. And I’m dating Azzi.”

For a long, terrible moment, nobody moved. Then, without saying a single word, Amy abruptly got to her feet. She didn't look at Paige. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on the floor as she turned and walked straight out of the living room, her husband quickly rising and following closely on her heels. The heavy wood door to the master bedroom clicked shut down the hall, leaving Paige entirely alone in the dim light of the television.

Paige sat frozen in the armchair for what felt like hours, staring blankly at the dark screen of her phone. The walls of the house felt like they were actively closing in on her, the air thick and completely unbreathable. She couldn't stay in this room. She couldn't stay in this house.

Moving on pure autopilot, she stood up, slipped her feet into her winter boots, and grabbed her heavy down jacket from the coat rack by the front door. She didn't make a sound as she slipped outside into the freezing Montana night, closing the door softly behind her.

The outdoor air hit her like a physical slap, cold and sharp enough to sting her lungs, but she welcomed it. The snow was falling in fat, heavy flakes, drifting down from the black sky in a silent, relentless curtain. The weight of the snow settled onto her blonde hair, dusting her shoulders and quickly covering the fresh tracks of her boots as she walked away from the house.

She walked without a destination, her mind a chaotic, spinning blur. She kept moving until the warm, yellow glow of her mother’s house was completely muted and low in the distance, obscured by the thick pine trees and the falling snow. Exhausted and emotionally drained, she slumped down against the rough bark of a massive pine tree, letting her body slide until she was sitting directly in the snow, the freezing moisture immediately beginning to soak through the fabric of her jeans.

She pulled her phone out, her fingers stiffening from the cold. Her first instinct was to call Azzi—to hear the one voice that could piece her back together. But she stopped herself, her thumb hovering over the contact name. She knew Azzi was home, surrounded by her own family, enjoying a rare and peaceful holiday. Paige couldn't bring herself to ruin that. She couldn't bear to dump this heavy, toxic mess onto her girlfriend’s lap tonight, knowing that Azzi was scheduled to call her later anyway.

Instead, Paige opened her contacts and selected the only other person in her life who might truly understand the specific, isolating ache in her chest. She hit the FaceTime button.

The phone rang twice before the screen flickered, and JJ’s face appeared on the display. The older girl’s expression immediately shifted from casual to deeply concerned as the video feed cleared, taking in the sight of Paige huddled in the dark, snowy woods.

“What’s up, Bueckers?” JJ asked, her voice instantly dropping into a protective, serious register. On the screen, Paige could see JJ quickly stepping out of a loud, brightly lit room filled with the ambient chatter of a family gathering. She muttered something in another language over her shoulder—likely a quick excuse to her family—before carrying the phone outside into the quiet night. “Sorry, lotsa people over,” JJ explained, her image bouncing slightly as she perched herself on a wooden porch railing. “So, what’s up?” Her voice softened considerably as she studied the younger girl’s pale, tear-streaked face through the camera. “You told your family, didn’t you?”

Paige managed a slow, heavy nod, inhaling a mouthful of the cold, thick air.

“And it didn’t go well,” JJ stated gently, it wasn't a question.

“Told my mom,” Paige said, her voice cracking slightly as she reached up to brush a heavy accumulation of snow off her forehead. “I told her I was gay... told her I was dating Azzi. And she just... she just left the room, JJ. She didn't even say anything. She just left,” Paige said, blinking rapidly to keep the fresh tears from freezing on her eyelashes.

JJ stayed quiet for a little while, her expression heavy with a deep, empathetic sadness. She rubbed the back of her neck, letting out a long, foggy sigh into the Quebec air before speaking. “Give her some time, Paige. Just... give her a little bit of time. It took you time to get your own head around it when you were figuring things out, right? If she doesn’t come around after a while... then you can be pissed, and then you can panic. But right now, it’s just a shock to her system.” JJ gave the blonde a small, reassuring smile through the screen.

Paige let out a long, ragged sigh, leaning her head back hard against the rough bark of the tree. “I know, I know... I just... I just wanted her to accept me, y’know? The way Katie and Tim accepted Azzi. The way they just embraced it like it was nothing.”

“I know, kid,” JJ said, her voice incredibly gentle. “I know exactly what you wanted. But the reality is, it takes some parents a lot more time than others to process things. It sucks, but it's the truth.”

“But shouldn’t parents just... shouldn’t they just accept and love you regardless, just because you’re their kid?” Paige questioned, a sudden, sharp spike of anger bubbling up from deep within her chest, cutting through the sadness. “Shouldn't that be the baseline?”

“One would think,” JJ sighed, shifting her position on the railing and brushing some stray snow off her own dark hair. She watched Paige closely through the tiny digital screen, her brow furrowing with concern as she noticed the violent shivering of Paige's shoulders. She gave her a tight-lipped, serious smile. “Hey, go inside and warm up, Paige. Seriously. Your lips are literally turning blue on my screen.”

Shrugging her shoulders, Paige stayed rooted firmly in the deep snow, making no move to get up. She exhaled a few times, watching the thick plumes of white vapor disappear into the darkness before looking back at her phone. “Is Katie with you?”

A subtle, complicated shadow passed over JJ’s face, and she fought hard to keep her expression entirely neutral. “Not yet. She has one more competition out in Seattle, and then she’s making her way over here to spend the rest of the break with me.”

“She really doesn’t spend any of the holidays with her parents anymore?” Paige asked quietly, the anger draining out of her, replaced by a cold, hollow empathy as she slowly began to push herself up from the frozen ground.

JJ shook her head, a grim, sad look in her eyes. “At this point, they’re all just being incredibly stubborn about it,” she said softly, her voice tinged with frustration. “None of them are backing down. Not her, and definitely not her parents.” The silence fell heavily between them over the digital connection, and JJ shook some fresh snow out of her hair. “It sucks. It sucks so bad for her, and honestly, I’m sure it sucks for her parents too. And listen to me, Paige—I know it’s not on you to try to fix the world, and it’s not your job to fix your mother's issues, but just give her a little time before you completely write it off.” JJ jumped down from the porch railing, brushing the frost off the legs of her pants. “I gotta get back inside before my family comes looking for me, but you message me the exact second you get back into the house so I know you didn’t freeze to death out there, okay? Promise me.”

“Sure,” Paige sighed. She murmured her goodbyes and ended the call, but she didn't move immediately. She leaned back against the solid trunk of the pine tree for one last minute. Her muscles were stiff, cold, and aching from sitting in the freezing temperature, but out here, surrounded by the silent, indifferent snowfall, she felt like she could actually breathe. Her jeans were entirely wet, the denim freezing stiff against her skin, but she welcomed the harsh, biting cold. It was a physical distraction from the raw, burning ache in her chest.

A while later, Paige finally forced her sluggish, shivering body to its feet. She made the long, agonizing trudge back to her mother’s house, her boots sinking heavily into the fresh accumulation of snow.

The house was completely dark and utterly silent when she slipped back inside. She walked on her toes, carefully stripping off her frozen, dripping clothes as she made her way down the hall, leaving a trail of wet denim and damp socks on the floor before locking herself securely inside the bathroom.

She turned the shower on, letting the room rapidly fill with thick, rolling clouds of hot steam. Paige didn't even stand under the showerhead; instead, she climbed over the ledge and sat directly down in the bottom of the tub, pulling her knees tightly to her chest. She let the scalding hot water beat down directly on her shivering form, the heat pricking, biting, and stinging against her frozen, numb skin like a thousand tiny needles. She sat there completely motionless, staring at the tile wall, letting the water wash over her until the hot water tank finally depleted and the stream turned entirely cold.

Wrapped tightly in a plush towel, she padded back to her temporary bedroom. She picked up her phone with trembling fingers and sent a quick, one-line text to JJ to let her know she was safely inside, before collapsing heavily under the thick layers of her bedcovers.

Just as she felt herself beginning to sink into a heavy, exhausted sleep, the phone in her hand vibrated violently, the screen illuminating the dark room with a bright, artificial glow. It was Azzi’s FaceTime call.

“Hey,” Paige said softly, her voice raspy and thick with unshed tears. She quickly pulled the phone completely under the heavy blankets with her, creating a small, enclosed cocoon of light.

“Oh, wow, I get invited into your secret fort,” Azzi teased gently, her face appearing on the screen. She was sitting up in her own comfortable bed miles away, turning down her bedside lamp to match Paige’s dim environment. But as she studied Paige’s eyes through the camera, the playful smirk faded instantly, her expression softening into pure concern. “Hey... you okay? What's going on?”

Paige let out a long, shaky sigh, giving a small, helpless shrug beneath the covers. “Mom knows. About... about us. I told her.”

“Oh.” Azzi’s voice fell into a quiet, breathless register, her eyes wide. “What... what happened, Paige?”

“She left. She literally argued with me, told me that I wasn’t gay, and then she just... she just walked out of the room,” Paige said, a single, shuddering breath escaping her lips as the memory threatened to break her composure again. “The worst part is, she wasn’t even mad, Az. It was like... it was like she just stopped caring entirely. Like she just completely checked out.”

Azzi sighed heavily, her heart breaking for the girl on the screen. She readjusted her position against her pillows, leaning closer to her camera. “She didn’t stop caring, Paige. I promise you she didn’t,” Azzi’s voice dropped, full of a deep, sorrowful certainty. “Your mom loves you. She really does. She just doesn't know how to handle this right now.”

Paige didn’t answer. She couldn't. She just lay there in the dark, staring at Azzi’s face on the screen. She watched with a quiet, grounding comfort as Azzi carefully tucked her thick, dark curls into a silk bonnet for the night. She watched her settle under her own pink comforter, pulling the blanket up to her chin. They didn't talk much after that. Sometimes they spoke in low, comforting whispers, and sometimes they just stayed on the line in complete, shared silence, until Paige’s heavy eyelids finally won the battle and she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

When Paige woke up the next morning, the winter sun was already streaming through the window, and her phone was completely dead, the battery having drained overnight. But as she stretched her limbs beneath the covers, she realized her heart felt marginally lighter than it had the night before.

She plugged her phone into the wall charger and made her way downstairs. The kitchen was flooded with bright morning light, but despite the fact that four people were sitting around the wooden table, the house was entirely, deafeningly quiet. Her younger siblings looked up as Paige walked into the room, offering her weak, hesitant smiles before quickly turning their focus back down to their plates, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.

Paige didn't say a word. She poured herself a large bowl of cereal, splashed some milk over it, and stood by herself, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter as she ate. She deliberately kept her distance, entirely unwilling to step into the physical circle of what looked like a perfect, normal family—a circle that she suddenly felt completely excluded from.

The silence stretched on, suffocating and heavy, punctuated only by the scraping of spoons against bowls. Finally, Paige’s younger sister looked up, her face brightening with a deliberate, innocent enthusiasm that made it entirely clear that Amy hadn't spoken a single word to the kids about what had happened the night before.

“Are you gonna FaceTime with Azzi today, Paige?” her sister asked brightly. “Can I talk to her too?”

“Yeah, we always talk,” Paige said, swallowing a mouthful of cereal, her voice carefully neutral.

“Think I could say hi to her for a minute?” her sister pressed, her face full of hopeful excitement. “She told me before break that she wanted to hear all about how my volleyball season ended!”

Of course Azzi had said that. Paige felt a sudden, bittersweet ache in her chest. Even before their relationship had shifted into something more, Azzi had always been an integral, loving presence in her family’s life. Her siblings absolutely adored her. Her parents... well, her parents had loved her too, back when she was just the best friend and the reliable co-star on the basketball court.

Paige’s younger brother chimed in, nodding eagerly. “Yeah! She told me she wanted to know exactly how many goals I scored in hockey this year, too. Let us know when she calls!”

A genuine, honest smile finally crossed Paige’s lips, softening her features as she looked at her siblings. “Yeah, absolutely. I’ll text her a little later and we can figure out a good time for a call, okay?”

She glanced over the rim of her bowl, her eyes landing on her mother and her stepfather. Both of them remained entirely silent, staring intently at their coffee mugs. Her mom’s shoulders were visibly tense, her jaw clenched tight, as if she were actively forcing herself to maintain the icy barrier of silence.

With a heavy, deflated sigh, Paige carried her empty bowl to the sink, rinsed it out, and immediately headed toward the living room. It was going to be an incredibly long, agonizing few days.

By the afternoon of the following day, the silence had settled into a permanent, agonizing state of existence. Amy hadn't spoken a single real word to Paige since the conversation in the armchair. She would offer superficial instructions about dinner or ask brief, logistical questions about travel, but she never truly looked at her daughter.

Paige’s departure for Minnesota was scheduled for the following morning, and her heavy duffel bags were already packed, standing in a neat, waiting pile in the front hallway. The younger kids had gone out to spend the afternoon with their neighborhood friends, and her stepfather was away at work, leaving the large house heavy with an uncomfortable, suffocating quiet.

Paige found her mother sitting alone on the living room sofa, folding a basket of clean laundry. Paige stood at the edge of the room, her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her jeans.

“Mom?”

Her voice was small, carrying a slight, involuntary waver that she hated herself for.

Amy froze for a fraction of a second, a pair of folded socks in her hands, before slowly looking up. Her eyes were hard, guarded, and completely wiped of their usual maternal warmth.

Paige took a slow, deliberate step into the room, her heart hammering in her throat. “I’m still your daughter,” she whispered, her voice growing stronger as the words left her lips. She walked over to the couch, carefully sitting down on the opposite end, leaving a respectful amount of space between them. “No matter who I love, Mom... I’m still Paige. I’m the exact same person I was two days ago.”

Amy didn't say anything, her fingers tightly gripping the fabric of the socks in her lap.

“Azzi loves me,” Paige whispered, the tears finally breaking through her defense and spilling down her cheeks. “No matter what I do, she loves me for exactly who I am. She’s an incredible, good person, Mom, and she makes me a better human being every single day. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to want for your kid? For them to find someone who loves them completely and unconditionally?”

She watched as her mother’s chest rose and fell with a sharp, shaky breath. Amy looked away, her eyes glistening with a sudden, complicated mix of sadness and stubborn conviction. “But Paige... it’s... it’s just wrong. It's not the path for you.”

Paige shook her head slowly, reaching up to wipe a tear away with the back of her hand. “It’s not wrong, Mom,” she said quietly, her voice entirely devoid of anger, filled only with a profound, unshakable certainty. “You know Azzi. You know her character, you know her family, you know how she carries herself. She is good. And we’re happy together. We’re allowed to be happy, Mom. I am allowed to be happy.” She exhaled a long, trembling breath, steadying herself. “This isn't a phase, and it isn't a choice. This has been a part of who I am for as long as I can possibly remember. This is who I was, this is who I am, and this is who I’m going to be.”

She paused, closing her eyes for a brief second to gather her strength. “I haven’t said the words out loud to a lot of people yet, Mom... but I’m gay. I love another girl, and it is okay. It’s more than okay. It’s good.”

She sat there on the couch, waiting through the long, agonizing silence, hoping for some kind of sign, some kind of breakthrough. But Amy just kept her eyes fixed on the laundry in her lap, her face a mask of tight, silent resistance. Realizing there was nothing left to say, Paige slowly got to her feet and headed upstairs to her room to wait out the remaining hours of the night.

The following afternoon, Paige watched through the small oval window as the commercial airliner descended through a thick blanket of grey clouds, touching down smoothly on the snow-covered runway of the Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport. The relief of leaving Montana was immediate, a physical weight lifting from her chest the moment she stepped off the plane.

She grabbed her heavy duffel bag off the rotating conveyor belt at the baggage claim, her phone buzzing in her hand. It was a text message from her dad, Bob, letting her know that the highway traffic was moving slowly due to a fresh morning snowfall, and that he was waiting for her just outside the arrival terminal.

She spotted his familiar, broad-shouldered frame the moment she exited the sliding glass doors into the crisp, biting Minnesota air. She shouldered her heavy bag, and within minutes, they were safely ensconced inside his large pickup truck. The interior was incredibly warm, smelling comfortably of old leather, faint tobacco, and the fresh, crisp scent of winter snow. The streets leading away from the airport were heavy with traffic, the truck moving at a slow, leisurely pace, and Paige leaned her head back against the soft headrest with a deep, genuine sigh of relief.

“So,” Bob said gently, keeping his eyes trained on the snowy highway as he adjusted the truck's heater. “How was your time out at your mom’s place?”

“Fine,” Paige replied automatically, her eyes tracking the bleak, beautiful white landscape blurring past the passenger side window.

“How’s Azzi doing?” Bob asked, a casual, friendly note in his voice.

Slowly, Paige turned her head to face her father. She looked at his profile—the familiar, calm expression of the man who had coached her, supported her, and stood by her through every single milestone of her life. She took a deep, stabilizing breath and let out a long sigh.

“Pops,” she said, her voice dropping into a serious register. “If I tell you something right now... do you promise you won’t crash the truck?”

Bob let out a low, deep chuckle, the sound warm and deeply comforting in the quiet interior of the vehicle. He gave a small, easy nod. “Paige, there is very little in this world that you could possibly tell me that would surprise me at this point. Go ahead, kiddo.”

Paige swallowed hard, clenching her fists in her lap. She didn't mince words. She just let the truth fly out. “I’m gay,” she spit out, her eyes locked on his face. “And I’m seeing Azzi. We’re together.”

The truck didn't swerve. It didn't slow down. There was no sudden slam of the brakes, no gasp of shock.

Paige watched her dad closely. He kept driving in complete, thoughtful silence for a long beat, his hands steady on the steering wheel. Finally, after a moment of processing, he reached across the console, his large, warm hand covering Paige’s trembling fingers and squeezing them tightly. He looked over at her, his eyes full of an absolute, uncomplicated warmth.

“Are you happy, Paige? With Azzi?”

The simplicity of the question caught her off guard. “Yeah,” Paige said, a soft, breathless laugh escaping her lips as her cheeks began to heat up with a bright flush. “I mean, you know how it is, Pops... it’s Azzi. She’s... she’s just Azzi. She’s kind, she’s incredibly generous, she’s smart, she’s funny... she’s basically perfect.” She shrugged her shoulders, a deep, genuine sense of joy finally breaking through her exhaustion. “I’m really, really happy with her.”

“Then I’m happy,” Bob said honestly, his voice firm and completely devoid of any hesitation. “All I have ever wanted for you in this life is to be happy, Paige. If I’ve managed to help you find a life where you feel that way, then I’ve done my job as a father.” He offered her a bright, proud smile. “And besides, I’ve always liked Azzi. She’s a pretty great kid.”

“I like her too,” Paige whispered, her eyes burning with a sudden, overwhelming wave of happy tears as she looked down at her phone screen. She stared at the background picture of the two of them, the image no longer carrying the heavy, anxious weight it had in Montana. Now, it just felt like a promise.

“And hey,” Bob teased, a wicked, amused glint entering his eyes as he looked over at her. “If she can actually manage to keep you in line and handle your stubbornness, she deserves a medal.”

Paige let out a loud, joyous laugh, the sound bubbling up from her chest and filling the warm truck. “Hey! I’m not that bad!”

“Uh-huh, sure you aren't,” Bob chuckled, squeezing her hand one last time before returning it to the steering wheel. His expression turned slightly serious, a protective tone entering his voice. “I’ll talk to your mom later on tonight, okay, kiddo? Don't you worry about that part. Let me handle her.”

Paige nodded, a massive, invisible weight completely dissolving off her shoulders. The agonizing baggage she had been carrying all the way from the mountains of Montana vanished into thin air. She exhaled a long, peaceful breath. “Okay. Thanks, Dad. Seriously.”

“Of course, Paige. You’re still the exact same girl I raised you to be, and honestly, you and Azzi have been such a constant in each other’s lives for... well, forever. It just makes sense,” he said openly. He paused for a moment, thinking through the logistics of her life. “Do Katie and Tim know about you two?”

“Yeah,” Paige shrugged, her tone casual now. “They know. They’re completely cool with it. They’ve been amazing.”

“What about Geno?” Bob asked, referring to their legendary college coach.

Another quick nod from Paige. “Yeah. He knows, and CD knows too. We had a talk about it. They’re supposed to help us keep it on the down-low, you know, just keeping it completely out of the public eye and away from the media circus, but like... behind closed doors, they’re totally fine with it. They just want us focused and safe.”

Her dad smiled, his eyes focused happily on the snowy road ahead as they neared his house. “As long as you two are safe, protected, and truly happy... then I’m the happiest father alive.”

Paige leaned her head back against the seat, the warm air of the truck washing over her. She pulled out her phone, her fingers moving quickly across the screen. First, she tapped out a rapid, joyful message to Azzi, letting her know she was safe and that her dad was completely on their side. Then, she opened her chat with JJ, sending a quick, victorious update.