#uconnwbb

The first thing Paige saw when she entered was someone mid dance with big headphones on and a phone in a tripod pointing around the big indoor court.

“Hello?”

Nothing. Oh yeah, the headphones. 

Slowly, as if she was approaching a wounded animal, Paige made her way over to you, softly tapping your shoulder. But her careful try was useless as you let out a yelp, stumbled over the tripod before it fell over and ripped off the headphones mid fall. But like in a cheesy rom-com you never hit the ground as the pretty blonde in front of you caught you by the elbow, keeping you up.

“Uh… hi?” she tried again.

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that! I think you gave me a heart attack!” your chest moved up and down rapidly, trying to work through the initial shock.

“You’re fine,” she grinned, “didn’t even fall. Thanks to me.” The wink was too much to comprehend as you were still trying to catch your breath. “I thought this place was locked anyways.” She continued.

Finally you got a grip back on life, standing straight and picking up the tripod, “Yeah, but I work here, one of the media girls.” As if to get your point across you motioned to the phone, checking for cracks. “I’m allowed to be here. You on the other hand...” The teasing smile on your face was a stark contrast to the panic Paige saw before. 

“Guess we’re both rule-breakers.” You nod in agreement before coming to your senses and rapidly shaking your head, “Nuh uh, I’m allowed to be here!” The blonde laughed,” You know who would say that?” 

“Who?” 

“Someone that’s not supposed to be here.”

An offended gasp filled the empty court, as you crossed your arms over your chest and eyes narrowed in mock betrayal. “I’ll have you know I’m very professional. I only enter empty gyms in artistic circumstances.”

Paige hummed, a smirk on her face “Mhmm. Artistic. Sure.”

“What, you don’t think my danc-” Your personal phone buzzed in your pocket - loud, urgent. Paige notices the furrow in your brows and how your smile slips for just a second as you glance on the screen. 

[6 texts from: Jared]

➤ Where the hell are you ➤ Answer me ➤ You said you’d be back 30 mins ago ➤ I’m not playing with you rn

“Uhm. Sorry I gotta go.” Paige blinked at you, “What, already?”

“Yeah. Got what I needed.” You shoved your phone into your bag, rushing to pack up your tripod without looking at her. “Court’s all yours.”

She tilted her head, long hair swishing gently to one side, “Are you okay?”

“Oh yes, no worries!” The smile on your face seemed… off. “I’m just on a very tight schedule of mild chaos.”

You started backing away, already halfway to the tunnel exit.  “Oh, and Paige?” She perked up, still watching you carefully. “Yeah?” 

You gave a weak little grin. “Next time, bring coffee. Scaring people earns you caffeine tax.”

Then you turned and walked off, your steps a little faster than before. Paige stood frozen, her gaze trailing you until you disappeared around the corner.

She frowned.

Something didn’t add up.

And for the first time since she got to Dallas, Paige Bueckers wasn’t thinking about basketball.

–

Meeting Paige for the second time was a lot more like you had originally planned it. First day of training camp. The entire facility was buzzing like a hive, excited, nervous - especially the rookies. They already had a press conference the day before, as well as a photoshoot, so now the fun could begin. This was also your first day with the full, new team, the last few functions had been covered by your colleagues. 

Sneakers squeaked and whistles echoed through the big indoor court as coaches yelled instructions and teammates tried to communicate with each other over the music. 

It was day 1 and you were already sweating, obviously not from playing basketball but from running around the gym trying to get shots of everyone. It was way too warm to wear a hoodie, but you couldn’t change that now. 

“Sunshine!” Maddy Siegrist called out to you across the court, she was entering her third season. “You get a shot of me doing that sick reverse layup or do I have to redo it?”

The smile on her face was cheeky enough to get a laugh out of you. “Got it in burst mode, Maddy,” you said, adjusting the camera around your neck, the strap getting uncomfortable after a time, “I even got your ugly concentration face if you wanna see it again?”

“Rude,” Maddy said, grinning. “See if I let you get my good side again.”

“You have a good side?” DiJonai chimed in, drawing a laugh from the group.

Paige couldn’t stop staring, not in a creepy or weird way, she was just... Observing. She saw how you zipped around the court like you belonged there, bantering with her new teammates as they called out ‘sunshine’ to get your attention on them, hoping you’d get a good shot of them attempting something.

You were cracking jokes and all smiles, you were - on. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the way you bolted out of the gym just a couple of days ago, the way your entire demeanor had drastically changed at one look at your phone.

“Alright, grab some water, catch your breath for a second!” Chris, the head coach yelled out. Naturally the blonde drifted over to where you stood on the sidelines, two water bottles in her hands. 

Let me guess,” she said casually. “You’re gonna post the worst picture of me, huh?” You didn’t jump this time—but your eyes flicked up in surprise, not expecting anyone to come up to you as you reviewed shots on your camera.

“Well, you did come into the league with a reputation. Gotta keep expectations realistic,” you teased, your camera already swinging up toward her, getting a horrendous angle on her as you crouched down to put a lens away.

“I literally just got here,” Paige said flatly, not impressed at all at the flash that went off.

You grinned. “Exactly.”

She smirked. But then your phone buzzed — three short, sharp vibrations in your pocket. You didn’t even look at it this time. Just silenced it with a practiced thumb swipe and tucked it back into your bag like it didn’t matter.

But your shoulders had gone tense. And Paige caught it. Of course she did. "You alright?" she asked quietly, not joking anymore.

You looked at her a beat too long, then blinked and smiled. That same, slightly-too-sunny smile.

“Yup. Golden.” You gestured vaguely toward the team. “Now hydrate, Rookie. You’ve got a whole training camp to impress me.”

“Me impress you?” Paige’s eyebrows shot up as she opened one bottle and handed it to you before opening her own and taking a big gulp.

“Exactly.” You winked and took a sip. “I’ve got the camera. That means I control the legacy.”

With the back of her hand Paige wiped her mouth while chuckling. “So I gotta earn your approval and try not to look stupid on the internet?” 

Your head tilted as you shrugged. “Basically, yeah. High-stakes game. Emphasis on not looking stupid online.”

She gave you a glance as she nudged your water bottle, telling you to take another sip before closing her own. “And what do you get out of this?”

Your mouth opened for another sarcastic answer but you got interrupted by new buzzes of your phone. These seemed louder, more intense, more persistent. 

“I get to make magic,” you shrugged before lifting the camera again and pointing it at her face. “Now go stand near the hoop and look natural.”

Paige didn’t move right away. She just watched you. Watched how quickly you slipped the mask back on. Then, finally, she turned and jogged off toward the baseline, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t make me look short.”

You laughed, the sound carrying across the court. “Better grow an inch then, Bueckers!”

Before Paige could fire something back, a voice called her name from the free throw line - “P! We need a fifth!”

She lingered just long enough to catch the way your smile dropped before jogging back onto the court.

–

Game days have always been hectic, stressful and chaotic. But not the bad kind of chaos but the kind that makes your blood rush with adrenaline and the smile stay on your face for so long that it hurts. The exciting kind of chaos, where you felt your heart in your throat - you lived for days like this, camera in one hand, press badge around your neck, running on caffeine and nerves.

The first game of the season was against the Las Vegas Aces at Joyce Center Notre Dame, Indiana. The Pavillion was already buzzing with fans and students as you slipped past security and into the tunnel. Today's fit was all black, trying to be as much in the background as possible. Comfortable, invisible. You liked it that way - a photographer's uniform.

Players were warming up on the court. Media circled like sharks. Lights were blinding. Music thundered. It was all familiar.

And still—your hands were a little shaky.

“Sunshine!” NaLyssa jogged over, her warm-up jacket half on half off. “Tell me you’re getting my walkout? I want tunnel footage that looks like I’m about to drop 30.”

You grinned. “Only if you do drop 30. I have integrity, Smith.” She threw a quick ‘I gotchu’ in your direction before running off again. In her stead, Paige emerged from the locker room in full uniform, earbuds in, head low. The rookie buzz was thick around her. She was trying to look calm. She wasn’t and you knew it.

Your eyes met. And for a second, neither of you moved. She gave you a tiny nod. Not a smile. Just... acknowledgment.

You lifted your camera. Snapped one quiet photo. Caught her mid-stride, jaw set, spotlight just catching her cheekbone. It would be a great shot. Her shots always were. 

Then it happened again, your phone buzzed. No subtle ping just sharp, angry vibrations again. You checked the screen, instinctively.

[3 texts from: Jared] ➤ Where are you. ➤ I saw your story. ➤ You think I’m fucking stupid?

Your fingers clenched so tight around the phone you nearly cracked it. The heat drained from your face. You backed up into the tunnel. Just for a second. Just to breathe.

“Hey.”

Paige’s voice cut through the noisy atmosphere, shutting it all out. She must have put down her bottle, headphones and towel on the bench before following you the few steps into the darker tunnel. Her brows were furrowed, and she looked like she wanted to say something. Same look she wore at camp. Like she knew something.

“You good?” she asked. You nodded too quickly letting out the fakest laugh she had heard from you as of yet. “Yeah. Just... bright lights. Low blood sugar,” you waved it off, “You know, media girl problems.”

She didn’t laugh. She just watched you. And then, like she couldn’t help it, she leaned closer, keeping her voice low.

“Is someone messing with you?”

The question felt like a slap — not because of the words, but because it was the first time someone asked it out loud.

You blinked. Then smiled — brittle and brilliant. “Nope. Just showtime jitters.” You raised your camera again, angling the lens so she couldn’t see your face. “Now go be a star, Bueckers.”

You didn’t see her eyes stay on you. Didn’t see the way she lingered. Didn’t hear her whisper to herself as she walked back toward the court: “Liar.”

–

The hotel room was quiet, almost too quiet after the loud crowd at the game. Due to an odd number of staff you had gotten your own room while most others were paired up. It was quiet like before a storm. Your gear bag was still packed next to the door, you hadn’t even taken your shoes off or changed out of your outfit.

The game ended with a loss for the Dallas Wings but that wasn’t too bad, it was only the first of the season with an entirely different team. For you it had been a good game, the footage was clean and you can feel the energy in them. 

And yet here you were, sitting on the edge of the hotel bed like a glitch in the system.

The only light came from your laptop, halfway open and flickering with edits of the night’s media dump. You were supposed to be uploading clips. Sending previews. Drafting captions.

Instead, you were staring at a single photo - Paige mid-drive, focused, powerful. You had caught her in perfect motion, backlit by the bright lights.

Your phone buzzed again.

[5 texts from: Jared] ➤ You think I don’t know where that hotel is? ➤ I’m not an idiot. ➤ Answer me. ➤ I said ANSWER ME. ➤ You think this little game makes you better than me?

You watched the messages roll in, but didn’t answer. You sat your phone down on the nightstand, the screen down, but it kept buzzing. You could feel the angry vibrations through the cheap wood like a second heartbeat. 

Instead of checking it you stared straight ahead in the dark room, jaw locked and chest feeling way too tight. You kept swallowing. But it didn’t work. 

Then—like some dam had quietly cracked - you reached up and wiped your eye. Just once. Then again. And suddenly, tears spilled fast, like they had been waiting their turn all day or even longer.

You didn’t sob. You didn’t scream. That would require energy you didn’t have. You just leaked, silently, as your shoulders folded in and your shaking hands pressed to your face.

The kind of crying that didn’t look dramatic. Just tired. Just… done. The ugly kind. Your laptop screen timed out. Darkness flooded the room. Still, the phone kept buzzing.

Eventually, you turned it off. Not silenced. Not ignored.

Off.

You slipped on your team issued hoodie, grabbed your room-key and left the dark room. 

The stairwell was stuffy and dim, lit by one flickering bulb, but you kept climbing.

One flight. Then two. Then the heavy metal door to the roof gave way with an eerie creak, making your bones shudder.

Cool air hit your face, sharp and quiet.

Up here, the world felt a little farther away. Just lights in the distance, the hum of AC units, and a faint breeze that tugged at your sleeves. You needed a moment before pulling your phone out and dialing while leaning on the metal railing.

The line rang once—then connected.

“Finally,” Jared’s voice snapped through like a blade. “You screen me all night just to call me now?”

You didn’t say anything. Not right away. You stared out into the blur of headlights and halos. And all of a sudden the air wasn’t refreshing anymore. It was just cold, metallic and heavy. 

“Well? You gonna speak or just breathe heavy?”

“…Hi, sorry I was working,” you murmured. Your voice was so soft it barely reached your own ears.

“Working. Sure. Where the fuck is my money?” You winced and curled up in your hoodie, pulling the hood over your head trying to shield your face from the cold wind. Tears stinging in your eyes.

“It was supposed to be yesterday. You promised me yesterday.”

“I know,” you said quickly, automatically. “I tried to move it early, but-”

“I don’t want your excuses. You think I’m just sitting here waiting around while you play dress-up with basketball Barbies and your little media job and feel all important?”

You didn’t even hear the door creak behind you, as it opened further than you had left it open. You just lowered your voice even more, barely above a whisper. “Please don’t do this right now.”

Jared didn’t even hear it. Or maybe he did and didn’t care. “You made a commitment. You’re not just gonna flake because you got a new backdrop for your sad little life. You owe me.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I know.”

A pause.

“I’ll get it to you. I just… I need a little more time.”

He laughed - that hard, bitter kind of laugh that made your blood feel cold.

“You’re always saying that. You always ‘just need time.’ I should’ve known better than to count on you. You always act like you’re doing me a favor - you should be grateful I haven’t shown up and taken it myself.”

Something behind you shifted. A soft scuff of sneakers. But still, you didn’t turn, didn’t hear it or just didn’t care.

“I’ll fix it,” you said. Quiet. Small. Mechanical.

There was silence on the line for a beat. Then Jared spat, “Yeah. You better,” and the call went dead.

You stayed frozen. Just stood there, phone still in hand, like it might ring again.

From the shadows near the exit, Paige had stopped mid-step. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop - she was just looking for air, same as you. But now she stood still, watching your hunched figure against the skyline.

She didn’t interrupt. She just looked. Saw. She saw the real you.

And after a long moment, she turned and slipped quietly back down the stairs.

–

The restaurant looked warm and inviting - bright but not in the blinding way. Bright in a golden way, that made everyone look a little softer than the harsh lights on the court. The team had taken over the back of the place, pushed 2 long tables together to fit everyone semi-comfortable. After all, basketball players do need a bit more space than ‘normal sized’ humans. 

You were late, not fashionably late, but a hurried late. 

It was NaLyssa that had texted you earlier “You’re coming, no excuses. We’re family now.”

It took longer to get there than you had expected or wanted. Without a car you depended on Jared in that department. But he was already irritated that you were going out, so why would he drive you? He only accepted after you offered to pay for his gas at the nearest station. So after getting gas he had dropped you off  two blocks away. After watching his car (which was really yours but that’s a different story) drive off, you walked the last bit fast, heart pounding the whole time like it might outrun your nerves.

Slipping through the door of the restaurant you felt a bit out of place in some jeans and a hoodie, so you tried to blend in with the shadows. 

“Heyy, she made it!” Maddy shouted, lifting her glass. A small round of cheers rose up.

Bye bye shadows.

DiJonai waved you over, patting the empty seat beside her. The one opposite Paige.

You smiled tightly and offered a quick, “Sorry, sorry. Hope I didn’t miss dessert.”

“Please,” DiJonai said, sliding a menu in front of you. “You missed the world’s slowest appetizer order. Sit. Eat.” You sat. Your hoodie still smelled faintly like the car. You didn’t take it off.

The waiter came over, and when he asked what you wanted, you barely looked at the menu. “Just the… house salad, no dressing. Thanks.” There was a beat - just long enough for someone to notice. “You sure?” NaLyssa asked gently. “They’ve got good pasta here. You love pasta.”

“I’ll steal bites from all of you,” you deflected with a small smile. “Professional moocher.”

They laughed. The tension moved on. But Paige didn’t.

Her sharp eyes stayed on you as you made good on your promise, eating a fork full of someone's Carbonara and stealing a piece of garlic bread. Laughing at DiJonai’s commentary on wine snobs. Listening as Maddy tried to impersonate the head coach and nearly choked on her soda, sending the whole table into a fit of laughter. 

A laugh so good it made your stomach hurt and eyes well up with tears as you tried to get some air.

At some point, Paige leaned forward to pass you a piece of steak from her plate without saying anything. Just set it on your bread plate and kept talking to JJ beside her. Some roasted potatoes followed soon after.

You didn’t look up. Just ate it. Quietly. Gratefully.

When the others started to order dessert you had excused yourself to the bathroom, quickly freshen yourself up and opened your hoodie for once, all the laughing and good food had warmed you right up. 

The others were just finishing up their main course when you got back to eat your salad. “You’ve seriously been here for thirty minutes and haven’t checked your phone once,” Paige said across the table, a teasing edge to her voice. “You’re not even pretending to look bored. Didn’t even take it with you to the bathroom.”

Your brows shot up as you lifted your fork with some arugula on it pointing it accusingly at the blonde across from you. “What, are you timing me? It’s getting a little creepy, Bueckers.”

She shrugged, a smirk playing at her lips. “I notice things.”

That made your smile twitch into something crooked. You swallowed. “Maybe I’m just trying not to look like the chronically online media gremlin.” Maddy leaned in from two seats down. “Too late. You were posting game reels before tipoff.”

“Exactly. I earn my gremlin status.” You tapped the edge of your water glass. “But this? This is sacred. Food is sacred.”

Paige’s brow rose as she pointed at your sad little side salad. “That’s what counts as sacred now?” You gave her a flat look. “I’m taste-testing my way across the team’s orders. It's a curated sampler.”

“She’s scamming us,” DiJonai said, shaking her head. “I lost half my truffle fries five minutes ago.”

“Don’t let her near the steak,” Arike warned. “She does this thing where she’s like, ‘Oh, just a bite’, and then it’s gone.” You threw your hands up, mock-offended. “I’m being framed. You’re all just bad at food security. God forbid a girl just has a big palette.”

That earned another round of laughs from the table, loud and joyful - the kind of sound that made you forget to flinch.

Across the table, Paige was still looking at you. Chin resting on one hand, her strikingly blue eyes sharp and unreadable - until she smiled, softer this time. “Still,” she said. “No phone. Proud of you.” You tilted your head at her. “Why’s that worth a merit badge?”

She shrugged, but didn’t look away. “Just nice to see someone here. Not halfway gone.” You shifted slightly in your seat, trying to keep it light. “So what’s your excuse? You haven’t checked yours either.”

Paige tapped the screen of her phone on the table - dark. “I don’t have anyone blowing it up.” Her tone was too casual, like it didn’t matter. “Guess I’m not that interesting.”

“Or you have bad reception,” Maddy offered, ever helpful.

Everyone laughed again, and Paige finally looked down, brushing her fingers over her phone. Then she flicked her gaze back up to you.

“Okay - picture time before anyone leaves.” Quickly you got up, digital camera in hand before DiJonai pulled you back down again. “Sunshine, you’re in this one.”

Groans echoed from around the table as everyone shuffled closer together, pulling faces, leaning in. DiJonai tugged you into the shot and Paige leaned just close enough to bump shoulders over the table.

You managed to smile for the photo - a real one. And when you finally glanced at your phone after dinner?

No new messages.

–

The streets were quieter now, dark and cold. The happy buzz of the restaurant laid behind you. You’d waved everyone off with a smile, a joke, a “see you tomorrow,” and started toward the nearest bus stop like it was just routine.

But it wasn’t routine, at  least not for someone having a death grip in a camera bag and a press badge stuffed deep in your handbag. You missed your car in moments like these, but you’re getting used to it. 

You’d barely made it to the corner when a car pulled up alongside the curb. The window rolled down.

“Get in.”

You turned - a little too fast - only to see Paige in the driver’s seat of a black rental. One hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the door.

You blinked. “I’m good. I like public transport. Very... civic. You wouldn’t understand, superstar.” She gave you a flat look. “It’s 11:30. The next bus is in 20 minutes and you have your holy camera with you.”

You shifted your bag higher and just looked at her.

“Get in the car, Sunny,” she said, a touch of amusement threading through the firmness, you could see it in her eyes.

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to, but because it was too easy. Too kind. Too close. Still, your legs betrayed you, already moving before you gave yourself permission. You slid into the passenger seat and closed the door.

You swallowed, “Well, uhm, thank you for saving me from my death march,” your voice was too dry to be funny.

“Someone’s gotta keep your freeloading ass alive,” she quipped while glancing at you but quickly going back to concentrating on the road.

You smiled, lips twitching. “You’re getting funnier. Is that part of the rookie training?”

“Only the advanced course.”

She parked when you gave directions, easing into the curb in front of your building. It looked a little smaller than usual under the yellow streetlight. You hated that. It looked… weird. With the passenger door open and one foot already on the pavement you thanked the blonde, ready to head in.

“I’ll walk you up!” Her seatbelt was already unbuckled and her hand on the door handle. “Oh no, you won’t,” you caught yourself and went a bit softer, your eyes not as wide anymore, “it’s okay, really. I got it.”

Paige turned to you, one eyebrow pulled up “Why wouldn’t I walk you up?”

You exhaled, trying to convince yourself of your reasoning. “Because it’s a six-flight walk-up with a buzzer that doesn’t work and a neighbor who thinks I’m growing weed because I own succulents. Trust me, it’s not a vibe.”

She didn’t laugh this time. Just looked. A beat passed.

“You sure?”

You nodded. “Thanks for the ride.”

Paige leaned back slightly. “You always like this when someone’s nice to you?”

You glanced over. “I’m fine with nice.”

“Are you?” You paused, hand still on the door. Another silence. Then, finally, she said, “Text me when you’re inside.”

That stopped you. “I don’t have your number.”

“It’s in your DMs.” You turned to look at her. She gave you a small, unreadable smile. “Good night, Sunshine.”

But before you could finally leave you starting digging in the pockets of your hoodie and came up with a small wad of bills, hastily smoothed out in your palm, desperately trying to ignore the blonde's confused face.

“Here,” you mumbled, trying to press it into her hand. “Gas money.” Paige blinked, looking at the crumpled twenties like you’d handed her a live bird. “What?” she said, equal parts amused and confused.

“For the drive,” you insisted, pushing it toward her. “It’s a rental. And gas is, like, criminal now.” She leaned back in her seat, both hands up. “You’re not paying me to drive you home. I’m not an Uber.”

“Still,” you said, your voice a little too sharp, “just take it.” She shook her head, a soft, incredulous laugh escaping her. “You really hate owing people, huh?”

You didn’t answer.

She didn’t push. Just gently closed her hand around yours and pushed it back toward your lap.

“You can pay me back by not acting like I'm doing you a favor.”

You hesitated. Then, reluctantly, stuffed the money back into your hoodie. Sort of.

And once you were out of the car and inside the building, she waited until you had unlocked the very front door and entered the building, then drove off.

The building door barely hit the lock before you pulled out your phone. She hadn’t been lying. The message was already there.

[3 texts from: @paigebueckers] ➤ Just in case the bus ghosts you again (xxx) xxx-xxxx. ➤ Or you need someone who doesn’t talk loud on rooftops. ➤ 🕶️☀️

You stared at it for a moment. Then hit “Save Contact.”

Back at her place Paige went to grab her water bottle and get out of the car when she saw it - the money.

Still crumpled, still soft from your hand. Shoved into her center console cup holder. She stared at it for a long second, then sighed. “Jesus,” she murmured to herself. 

She didn’t move it right away. Didn’t throw it out.

Just… left it there.

Like it meant something.

—

The gym was emptying out fast, and it wasn’t long before the only thing you could hear only the hum of the lights and the bounce of a stray ball. You’d already packed all your gear together and carried it over your shoulder. Jelly, was the best way to describe the way your body felt.

You hadn’t even planned on joining the girls in the locker room, just ducked your head in to ask Maddy what shot she wanted sent to her phone - but next thing you know you got dragged in, the camera bag nearly slipping from your shoulder. 

“Come on, Sunshine,” she said with that mischievous grin, “you’re basically one of us now.”

You gave a weak protest, laughing quietly. “Pretty sure staff isn't supposed to be in here.”

“Guess you’ll have to report yourself, then.”

That’s how it started. A two-minute question turned into sitting on an overturned crate near someone’s cubby, camera bag still on, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes heavy. No one bat an eye at you being in there, letting you relax a tad, until your stomach grumbled - loud enough for Maddy to raise an eyebrow.

“Damn. Did you eat today?”

You hesitated. Big mistake.

“Hey!” Maddy called out to the room, turning in her seat. “She didn’t eat today.”

“What?! Are you serious?” That was Nai, halfway through braiding her hair. “Girl, it’s like 4PM.”

“I had a bar earlier- ”

“Was it a real bar or one of those pressed sadness bricks you always pull outta your bag?” The team mobilized like a tactical unit, or at least something close to it. In seconds, there were protein bars, drink bottles, and packets of fruit snacks being thrown your way like offerings to a minor deity. You blinked at the pile forming in your lap and the mess around you.

“You guys don’t have to- ”

“You work for us,” DiJonai said, tossing you a chocolate peanut butter bar. “You’re part of the machine now. The machine stays fed.”

You gave a grateful smile. Small, but real as you didn’t fight it further, just too damn tired. Cheeks warm with quiet gratitude as you tore open the first wrapper. 

Across the room from you in her cubby was Paige, towel thrown around her neck as she took off her knee pads, she looked busy but her eyes never escaped you. You looked so small.

You didn’t see her clock, how your hands shook slightly when you tried to open a bottle. You didn’t notice her chewing her lip when you blinked a little too long between bites.

But she noticed.

Eventually, she walked over, lightly brushing a loose bottle cap off the bench beside you. She nudged an open water bottle your way. “That one’s mine. Cold.”

You took it with a grateful nod and looked up at her, “I’m good, I swear.”

She raised a brow. “You look like you’re about to fold like a lawn chair. Drink it.”

You did.

“So,” Arike drawled. “Your boyfriend let you starve all day, huh?”

The room went still. A beat too long.

Your face snapped up, but your mouth stayed shut. You let out a breathy chuckle, like it was funny. “He’s not- It’s fine. He’s just… busy.” You didn’t make eye contact with anyone.

The older players shared a look. Maddy opened her mouth to shift the mood, but Paige cut in first, casually. “Her boyfriend doesn’t work for a W team. We win. We feed people.”

The others whooped. Just enough distraction to deflect the heat, letting the girls hype each other up one last time for the day. You smiled, forced but functional. You took a bite of the bar Paige gave you. It tasted like cardboard and warmth.

She sat beside you on the edge of the bench, just close enough that your elbows brushed.

She didn’t tease you, just handed you another wrapper, already peeled slightly open.

—

A week later the weight room was buzzing a day before the next game - clanks of plates, low grunts, and the dull thud of medicine balls against the far wall. Lights buzzed overhead, bright but not clinical. Music thumped from a corner speaker, rhythmic and bass-heavy, but muffled by the girls chatting.

You were framing a shot, trying something different seeing as the weight room gave you different possibilities than the practice court, crouching to capture JJ’s silhouette as she lifted. None of you heard the door creak open, no one paid him any mind as he made his way through the room.

“Hey Babe.”

Jared. He was too close, you could feel his breath in your ear, uncomfortably warm as it sent shivers down your spine.

When did he get here?

Once you could finally move you were able to turn around and face him. Jared stood just behind you, hands tucked into his hoodie pockets like he belonged there, like this was a casual drop-in. He even smiled, that crooked, boyish grin that used to make your knees weak and now just made your stomach turn.

The room had gone quiet. Not silent, the music was still going but the girls stopped chatting and subtly tried watching the interaction out of the corner of their eyes. Except Paige, who was full on staring at the train wreck directly in front of her.

“Jared! Uh, hi! What are you doing here?” Your voice was tight, but quiet.

He looked around the room, ignoring the curious looks he got, “This is where you’ve been hiding all day?” He nodded towards your camera equipment in the corner, “Saw your little video earlier. On their Insta? Real artsy, baby.” What was supposed to be a petty compliment just sounded sarcastic instead.

“I, uh, thanks. But, uhm, you can’t just walk into the team areas like this.” You had pulled him in closer by his arm, so close that your bodies nearly touched as you quietly tried to suggest that he should get lost.

“I tried calling.” He shrugged, stepping closer before he continued, voice sweet again, soft. “Look, I get it. You’re busy. I just...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t want to make a scene. I just... kinda needed to talk for a sec.”

Your throat tightened as Paige watched you like a hawk.

“Can’t it wait? I’m working?” Your voices had gotten really quiet now, neither Jared or you noticed how one of the girls had stopped the music, now silencing the room to listen in as they pretended to workout, most of the other staff had already left.

“I wouldn’t be here if it could.” His voice had turned quiet. Sharp. “I, uh… I just left my doctor’s office. They wouldn’t run the test without the co-pay.”

Your stomach dropped. “What test?”

He shrugged like it didn’t matter. “It’s probably nothing. Just chest stuff again. Tightness. They said I should’ve come in sooner, but you know how it is…”

Your face went cold.

“I didn’t want to freak you out,” he added quickly. “I almost didn’t say anything at all. But now I’m sitting outside Walgreens trying to figure out how to cover the lab work, and I thought... if you could spot me, just one more time…”

You nodded, and when your hands didn’t move fast enough, he reached for your purse like he always did. “I’ll pay you back Friday,” he said, a little softer as he took out all the bills that were left. “You know I always do.”

You didn’t notice Paige until she was a few steps closer, towel slung over one shoulder, a water bottle in her hands. “Everything good?” she asked casually, but her eyes flicked between the two of you.

“All good,” you said too fast, taking your purse back from his hands. “He was just, just on his way out.” Jared offered a smile. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Sorry about that.”

He lingered a second longer than he needed to, brushing a hand over your shoulder. “You’re still the best, you know that?”

Then he turned and left. You didn’t even breathe until the door clicked behind him and he was finally, really gone from the space you had once felt safe in.

Paige was still watching you. “Lab work?”

You looked down at your camera, fiddling with the lens cap. “He’s been feeling off for a while now. Chest problems are scary, he’s been to a lot of Doctors for it.”

“And they don’t take insurance?” You swallowed, your eyes desperately trying to avoid making eye contact with the blonde. “He said they wouldn’t run it without him paying up front.”

A long silence passed.

Then Paige said, without looking at you, “You always pay when he says it’s urgent?” You didn’t answer. Not really.

Just said, “It’s easier.”

—

The place wasn’t even on google maps, one of those bars that looked like it might have once been a gas station or a tire shop. Squat brick, single red neon sign humming a half-lit “OPEN,” and windows so fogged over they might as well be painted black. Inside, the floor was sticky and the music was classic rock on shuffle.

It was perfect.

Maddy pushed the door open with her hip, DiJonai following close behind. “I swear to God,” she muttered, “if I get tetanus from the pool table, I’m blaming you.”

“You can’t get tetanus from felt,” Arike deadpanned.

“That sounds like a challenge," Maddy said.

Paige was the last to walk in of the small group that had decided to grab some cheap drinks and greasy food after a gruelling late film session. She hadn’t even looked up until Maddy elbowed her in the ribs and nodded toward the bar.

And there you were.

Behind the counter. In a low cut black T-shirt and jeans, hair pulled into a messy ponytail. Your forehead was a little sweaty from the heat, or the pace, or both. You moved like someone who had done this a thousand times - pouring, swiping, dodging elbows and flirting with drunks just enough to earn better tips.

That top certainly helped for the tips as well.

For a while none of the girls said anything. Just stood there in stunned silence as they watched you shake off an uncomfortable customer.

“Wait,” DiJonai blinked. “Is that sunshine? Like, our sunshine?”

“Yup,” Paige said quietly as her eyes locked with yours. You didn’t freeze, didn’t drop anything, didn’t run, but the smile you gave was practiced. Not fake, exactly. Just... careful.

“Hey,” you said over the bar as they approached. “Didn’t know you guys knew this place!” Your voice was loud over the loud music.

“We’re versatile,” Lyss grinned. “Athletes by day, dive bar connoisseurs by night.”

You laughed, and it was real enough. “What can I get my favourite girls?” They placed their orders, teased you a little, tipped heavy despite your protests.

You stayed in motion, but Paige watched you closely. The way you rubbed your eyes between orders. The slight limp in your left leg. The silence between your words when you thought no one noticed. At one point, you ducked under the bar to grab a case of beer and came up too fast, smacking your shoulder on the counter. You didn’t even wince. Just kept moving.

The team stayed for maybe an hour. They didn’t push. Didn’t ask why you were working a second job, or why you never mentioned it, or why you looked like you hadn’t slept in days. They just let it be.

But Paige didn’t leave. Of course she didn’t. 

The other girls had eventually paid (and tipped even more, ignoring your refusal) and left, laughing about their sore stomachs and how they would regret the bad pizza tomorrow. Paige stayed, told them she’d uber home in a bit and no one questioned it - because they all knew.

DiJonai patted her arm with a smirk whispering a “Get our girl home in one piece, will you?” in the rookie's ear before filling out.

At first you didn’t notice her lingering gaze, too focused on the new barback who stocked the cooler wrong, and a regular who tried to play Journey for the 3rd time on the jukebox. But when you glanced up from drying a pint glass, she was still there, alone at the end of the bar, half-finished drink in hand, eyes on you like she’d never really stopped watching.

The crowd started thinning out now, just a few stragglers playing darts and a couple on their third round of something brown and bitter while staring into each others souls. It was the kind of hour where everything slowed down, the volume dropped just enough to hear your own thoughts. Which was worse most days.

You walked over and leaned on the bar. “Still here, huh?”

She raised a brow, her eyes challenging you. “You’re surprised?” All you did was shrug. “Most people don’t find this place worth staying.” Paige tilted her head with that annoying, cocky smirk. “I’m not most people.”

You huffed a tired laugh. “So I’ve heard.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a second as she watched you fiddle with your hair, annoyed by the loose strands. “Your eyes were too sharp for someone that tired. This wasn’t new.”

Then, quietly she asked, “How often are you here?”

You leaned back, wiped your hands on a rag that had long lost its purpose, way too stained to really be any use. “Depends. Weekends are the worst. But I fill in when someone flakes.”

“And after media days? Practices?”

You gave her a smile, soft and vaguely apologetic. “Turns out passion projects don’t cover rent.” Paige didn’t laugh at your weak attempt at a joke. She just looked down at her drink, then back up at you.

“You could’ve said something.”

Before you could answer, your manager called from the back office, saving you (because really, what were you supposed to say?). “Closing time! You’re good to clock out.”

You gave Paige a quiet look and gestured toward the front door. “Wait by the door? It’s quieter there. I’ll walk with you.”

-

Ten minutes later you came out with a hoodie pulled on. Paige’s hoodie. Backpack on one shoulder, your camera bag slung over the other. The rookie had to grin, you really didn’t go anywhere without that bag, huh?

Paige stood near the dumpster, hands in her pockets. When you reached her, she noticed the envelope in your hand: plain white, thick.

You didn’t try to hide it.

Instead, you peeled it open, quickly counting bills with practised ease. You shoved a few twenties into your worn wallet, then glanced around before lifting the false bottom of your camera bag and slipping the rest inside.

When you looked up again, Paige wasn’t staring. She was just... waiting.

Patient. Steady. Like she always was.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you said, even though you both knew it was. She let you grasp at your excuses before she gave a small nod. “Is it enough?”

That caught you off guard.“What?”

“The cash. The extra hours. All of it. Is it enough?”

You paused, still stunned by the question. “It has to be. I’m getting there.”

She let the silence settle between you, “You always take care of everyone else.”

You tried to make it a joke. “Bad habit.”

“Yeah,” Paige said softly. “But who takes care of you?”

You didn’t hesitate to say “I do” but your voice was shaky. Sometimes yourself just wasn’t enough. But that’s all you had.

You just looked at her, like really looked at the blonde, and for the first time in a while, you felt the weight of someone holding your gaze, not demanding anything from you, not draining you.

Just... being there and seeing you. 

“Come on. I’m getting us an uber.” There was no room to protest, so you accepted with a small smile and thankful nod.

—

The Laundry room was brightly lit by those annoying buzzing tube lights that keep flickering like in a bad horror movie. A window was cracked near the ceiling and let in stale air and the sound of distant traffic, but not much else.

Your back already started hurting after the first load of laundry, now at the third it was even worse. Why is this damn table so low?? Your hoodie sleeves were pushed to your elbows, fingers numb and stiff from folding the third load of team jerseys on that way too low table. Your camera bag sat nearby on a stool, always close. Your phone buzzed again. 

You didn’t check it.

Well not on purpose but you still saw the messages pop up.

[3 texts from: Jared] ➤ Just remember who helped you get in. ➤ You’d be nowhere without me. ➤ You’re welcome, by the way.

The screen dimmed. You exhaled slowly through your nose and turned back to the pile of laundry. Towels. Practice shirts. Warmups. More to do. Always more, just like at home the laundry was never ending.

“Jesus, Sunshine.” You hadn’t heard her come in, so to no one's surprise you flinched so hard that the stack of freshly folded towels was knocked over again.

Once your head snapped up you could see the blonde leaning in the doorway, still in sweats and damp hair from a post-practice shower. A protein shake in one hand, towel slung over her shoulder. Her expression shifted the moment she saw you: confusion, then concern.

“It’s so late already, what are you still doing here?”

You tried for a joke. It barely made it to your lips. “Look who’s talking. You’re still here too.”

She didn’t laugh. Or react at all, except for a raised brow that you knew meant she wasn’t in the mood, so you gave your real reason up. “Couldn’t sleep.”

That made Paige smirk, much to your enjoyment. “So you decided to cosplay as laundry staff?”

You laughed softly. “Someone’s gotta do it. Lord knows how many towels you guys go through in a single practice day.”

She looked around at the mess of fabric and unfolded towels. Then back to you as she stepped into the room.

“Sit somewhere real.”

“What is that even..? I’m sitting-” With an eye roll she ignored your protest before she pulled you up, “Not on a crate like a goblin. Come on,” and unzipped her jacket, shook it out, and spread it carefully across the folding table like a blanket, then patted it once.

“Sit here.”

“You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

No. No she didn’t.

Realizing you wouldn’t move on your own she dragged you down to her chosen place by your shoulders. The second your legs dangled off the table, Paige was already grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. She handed it over (already opened of course) with a raised brow. “Drink.”

“I’m fine, I really don’t need-”

“Not what I asked. Drink.”

You took the water. Drank. Because something in her voice and something in her eyes made it impossible not to.

She picked up your fallen stacks of towels and sorted them into the shelf where they belonged, before picking up the next basket and sitting it down on the floor next to the table and started folding. No comment. No lecture. Just calm, methodical movements. She made neat stacks. You watched, still clutching the water bottle with both hands like it was keeping you upright. And maybe it was.

She didn’t ask questions. Just moved around you, efficient and silent.

It was strange. Not in a bad way. Just unfamiliar. Like watching someone speak a language you used to know but forgot to speak after not hearing it for so many years.

Eventually, she dug out a protein bar from her pocket and tossed it toward you without looking. You didn’t catch it. Nope. It hit you straight in the face before falling in your lap - and even though Paige tried really hard not to laugh, she failed miserably as she giggled into her fist. 

“Stop pouting and eat. You didn’t today.”

You looked at her, brows furrowed. “That’s a bold assumption.”

“Not an assumption, I know it’s a fact. I notice things.”

Your chest tightened, painfully. You looked down at the bar in your lap, thumb running over the wrapper. You didn’t move as your traitorous brain wandered. 

To Jared.

To his messages. To his tired voice on the phone the other night, telling you his chest was tight again. That the doctors still didn’t know what it was. That the stress was making him worse. That you working too much didn’t help. That he needed rest, not drama. That he was doing his best, even without a job, even when you made it ‘so hard.’

He was always tired. Always hurting. Always needing you. Needing your money.

So you stayed. Paid the bills. Covered his medications. Told yourself it was temporary. That when he got better, things would change.

He wasn’t cruel. Just sick.

And sick people lash out sometimes.

Right?

You hadn’t even noticed Paige sit beside you until her voice broke your cruel thoughts, “You still in there?”

“Mhmm, where else would I be?”, you hummed and nudged her shoulder with yours. 

“Somewhere happier, maybe?”

It was silent as you fiddled with the protein bar in your lap, before the blonde took it, opened it and held it to your mouth - refusing to take it away until you took a bite. The silence returned.

Your throat burned.

You looked down. “He said I should be grateful.”

A pause.

“That I’d be nothing without him. That he puts up with a lot.”

The words were quiet. Flat. Like you were repeating something you’d memorized a long time ago.Paige didn’t move. Didn’t interrupt. Just listening, her eyes focused solely on you. “He’s not well,” you added quickly, like it was a valid reason to be hurting all the time. “Always at doctors. Can’t work. He’s just… dealing with a lot.”

Paige stared ahead for a long beat.Then: “That’s not love.”

You exhaled, shaky. “He’s honest. He says I make things hard.”

“No,” she said. “I’m being honest. He’s being cruel.”

You looked at her, startled by the bluntness, not harsh, just firm. Anchoring and honest, not cruel.

“Someone who loves you doesn’t make you earn kindness,” she said. “They don’t twist things so you feel lucky to be hurt.”

You looked away.

“I didn’t think I was allowed to expect more.”

“You are.”

Silence. Heavy.

Then, barely above a whisper:

“How do you know?”

Paige’s smile was soft and sure, not smug. Just true.

“Because I’ve seen the way you take care of people. The way you show up. That’s what love looks like. And you deserve to be treated at least the same way.”

You blinked hard, eyes burning. Your shoulders curled slightly, not to hide, just to stay upright. Paige didn’t touch you. She didn’t need to.

She just kept folding.

—

You came home from a late night editing session at the Dallas Wings Staff rooms. It had been a good night, truly. Someone had ordered pizza and the whole evening was spent gossiping while trying to work. But something was off when you came home.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

There was no music, and no TV that played some dumb show Jared was melting his brain with. The only thing you could hear was the buzz of hallway lights even through the shut door. 

You shut the door behind you, softly, mindful of the other residents and the late hour. At the hallway bench you shrugged off the camera bags and clawed your way out of the damp hoodie from the walk home. 

You were late. Not by much, maybe an hour, and you didn’t have plans for the evening, but you were late nonetheless.  It was just too fun, and the editing crew had lost the feeling of time.

Stepping into the cold living room, you froze in place. The lights were off, the only thing giving light was the dull blue glow of a laptop on Jared's lap, casting shadows across his face as he sat on the couch.

Wait.

That was your laptop. Open on his lap.

And that… that was your journal doc he was reading.

The heart in your chest stopped, at least you were pretty sure of it. 

“Hey,” he greeted, voice too calm. Not even on good days he was this calm. Jared didn’t look up right away, he just kept scrolling through the document. Reading more and more of your thoughts.

Your legs turned to concrete, or fused with the ground. Either way, something rooted you in place. “What.. uhm, what are you doing?”

Now he looked at you.

Smiled.

The blue light from the laptop illuminated him from below. Making him look even scarier than he usually does. 

“You’ve been real busy in here, huh?”

His voice was even as he tapped the side of his temple. You knew he meant busy in your head and the document he was reading. His voice was measured. No heat. That was worse.

“Didn’t know I was such a fucking villain in your head.”

You opened your mouth. No sound came out.

He stood and you were still rooted in that same damn place.

“I’ve marked some quotes I really liked,” held the laptop with one hand, and with the other, gestured like he was reading aloud on a stage “You don’t mind, do you? I’ll read them out to you.”

“I keep telling myself it’s not that bad, but I don’t know what ‘bad enough’ even looks like anymore.”

“I miss who I was before him, but I don’t remember what she looked like.”

“He doesn’t hit me. That’s the bar I’ve been setting my worth to.. he doesn’t hit me.”

After every sentence he read out loud he sent a pointed glance in your direction before finally snapping the laptop shut, the sound echoing through the dark living room.

“So that’s what we’re doing now?” he said, voice sharp, finally cracking. “You run off and play house with those girls, and then come home and write about how abused you are? Is that it?”

“I.. I didn’t mean..”

“No, say it. Come on. Say it to my face. You think I’m the fucking monster in your sad little Netflix drama?”

You shook your head quickly. Too quickly. “No. No, Jared, it’s not like that. I was just, just writing. I didn’t think you’d see it.”

“Of course not,” he spat. “Because I’m just the idiot you unload on when you’re not getting your ego stroked by Paige-fucking-Bueckers.”

Your breath caught.

He laughed.

“You think she gives a shit about you? You’re her project. Her pet. You think she’s not saying the same shit about you behind your back?”

“Stop.” Your voice cracked as tears started building in your eyes.

“Or what?” he said, stepping forward. “You gonna run away? Call Paige? Have her come rescue you like a good little golden retriever?”

He was close now.

Too close.

And suddenly your body remembered every red flag you’d buried under guilt and excuses. Every apology that felt like pressure. Every “you owe me” that bled into your spine. 

Your knees shook but you still managed to turn and walk out the door. Leaving him in the dark living room.

—

You couldn’t remember much of the run there, not how you grabbed the keys or how you got into the rehab room of the Dallas Wings training facility. The lights were dim, just barely peeking in through the window of the hallway.

The phone barely had any battery left as you sat on the padded table, hands still shaking. 

You already had opened her contact card. Paige. And you stared at it too long.

Not once had you called her first, never. Not even after those really hard days you just wanna cry about. Not even after Jared’s last big blow-up. But now? It was different.

You were shivering, scared and there was no one else you could call that would just.. show up. So finally you pressed call.

It only took two rings for her to pick up, even at 1a.m. 

“Sunny?”

You didn’t mean to start crying, you really didn’t want to but it just happened. Her voice was calm, steady and a little tired.

“Can you come get me?”

You could hear rustling on the other side, a blanket being tossed aside, “Where are you?”

“Training facilities, like in the, uh, the rehab area.”

“I’m on my way. Don’t move.”

She didn’t ask anything else.

Didn’t need to hearing your sniffles through the phone was enough to tell the blonde everything she needed. You sat there in the silence, breathing in short bursts, knuckles white around your phone.

And for the first time, you didn’t feel ashamed of needing someone.

So you waited.

Curled into yourself on the therapy table, shaking like a leaf. Running through rain in only a shirt might not have been a good idea… Your phone vibrated once. Just a soft, meaningless hum, but you didn’t check it, just stared at the ground and waited.

Until the door creaked open and then somehow, the room got even colder.

Jared.

“There you are.”

You slid off the table, heart in your throat, feet stumbling backwards before you even realized you were moving.

“How did you...”

“Come on, babe. This is your hideout? Thought you’d at least pick somewhere I hadn’t seen before.”

“Jared, leave.”

“No. You don’t get to run and then make me the villain I get to defend myself.”

He stepped forward. You stepped back.

“You’ve been whining in your journal about how sick I am. Poor you. Poor little girl carrying her broken man.”

He laughed. Cold and sharp like he always did. But this time it was even scarier.

“You ever wonder why none of those doctors ever called you back? Why you never saw a single goddamn bill?”

You froze mid motion, arms up trying to build distance between you both.

“I’m not sick,” he said simply, smiling now. “Never was.”

The world slowed and time stopped.

“Then… what, uh, what..” You were speechless. It couldn’t be.. Right? Surely this was just another really bad joke.

“You were useful. You paid for shit. Got me stuff I couldn’t get on my own. Covered rent while I took care of other things.”

Your throat closed. “What things?”

He tilted his head, cruel and casual. “Couple girls I was seeing needed help. You’re not the only one who likes to take care of people. I’m a real generous guy.”

That landed like a punch to the chest.

“You- you used me,” you whispered, tears stinging in your eyes.

“Call it sponsorship,” he said. “Me and the girls like to call you my ‘scholarship fund’.”

Just silence.

And then another voice. Low, flat, furious.

“Get. Out.”

It was Paige. You couldn’t say for sure, but the look on her face made you think that she’d been waiting outside the door for a bit, listening to what Jared had to say. Her voice was like stone as when she stepped into the room. Taking up the space between you and Jared.

You could see her body still trying to catch her breath, and she was a little sweaty. She ran here. For you.

“You don’t talk to her again. You don’t come near her again.”

Jared gave her a look like he was bored already. “You think she’s gonna stay with you? You don’t know her. She needs someone to fall apart on.”

“No,” Paige said. “She needs someone who won’t break her.” She took another step forward. “And you already did.”

For the first time (maybe ever), Jared didn’t have a comeback.

He looked at you. Maybe expecting you to flinch. To cry. To chase him. But you only looked right back at him and said, “I don’t feel sorry for you anymore.”

He left after that. Just turned and walked out. No apology. No second look.

And you stood there shaking, tired, cold, but breathing.

Then Paige was beside you.

She didn’t speak right away. She just stood close, quiet, until you could bring yourself to look up and meet her eyes. She didn’t look at you with pity, no this was admiration.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered, cupping your face in her warm hands. “None of it.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“You don’t ever have to go back.”

This might have been the first time that you realized that she was right. You didn’t have to go back. Not to him. Never.

—

The car ride was silent, not the uncomfortable ‘I don’t know what to say’ silence, just quiet. Tired. Paige hadn’t asked questions, Just dragged you out to her car, pushed you down into the passenger seat and gave you a blanket from the back of her car.

When she finally pulled over into her apartment lot she glanced over at you. “You good to come in?”

“You sped there.”

You didn’t really reply to her question but the blonde took you opening the door as answer enough. “I wouldn’t say ‘sped’ just, in a slight hurry,” she winked at you, your camera bag in hand.

Paige led the way inside, everything was low-lit and calm. There were no overhead lights that blinded you, and the hallway didn’t echo in that creepy way it did at your apartment complex. As she opened her own door a citrus-y smell wafted towards you, she must have let a candle on before she came.

She locked the door behind her and set your camera bag gently down on a chair by the door, and then asked, “Hungry?”

You could only nod, too busy looking around.

“Good,” she said, already heading toward the kitchen. “Sit. Shoes off. You’re home now. For as long as you need.”

That last part hit harder than you expected. Home.

You sat at the edge of the couch while she pulled out pots and ingredients like she did this all the time. Not just for herself, but for people she wanted to keep warm and full and okay, friends and family.

“Fair warning though, I am no master chef, but we won’t starve!”

Your phone buzzed again, even though you thought the battery had died when you were still at the training facility.

Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t even have to look. You knew it was him. No one else messaged you, especially not at this time. Not after Jared convinced you to cut contact with your family over a year ago.

Paige glanced over from the stove.

“That him?”

You nodded once, throat too tight. She walked over, hand out. “Can I?”

You didn’t hesitate to hand it over. Jared asked for your phone all the time, to look through it. But the basketballer didn’t read it. Didn’t scold. Just silenced it, powered it down, and set it face-down on her kitchen counter before plugging it in.

“You don’t need to hear from him tonight. Or ever again, if you don’t want to.”

You blinked quickly, looking away. “He’s going to be so angry.”

“He already is,” she said softly. “And it’s not your fault, and it’s also not your job to soothe that.”

You didn’t reply. Just pulled your knees to your chest and let your eyes roam around her apartment.

It was warm, and well lit.. cozy. Shoes were stacked by the front door, sweaters thrown over the couch, shelves filled with random books, picture frames and trophies. A photo on the fridge, next to a note with a date on it ‘pasta night - 06/28 :)’. That was a team night.

“Okay, uhm, water is cooking, might still take a while. Bathroom’s down the hall, if you wanna shower. The door locks and I set out fresh towels and some clothes. We need to get you out of the wet ones.”

You were halfway to tears again, and she hadn’t even done anything dramatic. Just kept giving you space. Kept choosing not to demand anything. And she kept being so incredibly nice.

You stood under the hot water until your skin went pink and you smelled like her body wash and expensive shampoo.

When you came back out she was sitting on the couch, two plates of food in front of her. She had also changed into a different hoodie, a dry one.

“Food’s still warm, there’s more in the kitchen if you want.”

You sat beside her, plate balanced on your lap, and took a bite.

It was the best thing you’d eaten in weeks. Not because of the recipe, because of the way it made your shoulders drop. She didn’t say anything further, just started to dig in. Not a single comment about how you should watch your portion size, or if you really wanted to eat ‘all that’.

You glanced over at her.

Paige, who had taken your phone without making you feel helpless. Paige, who gave you clothes, a bathroom, her bedroom if you wanted it. Paige, who never made you beg.

Jared would’ve sulked. Would’ve asked why you weren’t grateful. Would’ve asked for something back and even more in return.

You looked down at your plate, swallowed hard, and whispered: “Thank you.”

She didn’t make it a thing. She just said, “You’re safe now.”

—

Warm sunrays made their way through the window, gently waking you up in warmth. Gone was the grey sky and rainy clouds from the last couple of days. The bed was so comfortably and warm that you didn’t even want to get up, but ultimately the small of eggs, bacon and toast managed to get you out of the bed.

You’d slept.

Not fitfully. Not half-alert. Not with one ear trained for footsteps.

Just... slept.

When you finally sat up and stretched, the couch groaned softly beneath you. Your muscles ached in that gentle way that meant you’d actually rested. No buzzing phone. No tension in your neck or jaw.

Just peace.

You padded toward the kitchen, the hoodie sleeves dragging past your fingertips, hair a mess, mouth dry and eyes still sticky with sleep.

Paige was already at the stove, moving around in socks and some old basketball shorts, humming something low and tuneless. She glanced over her shoulder when you appeared in the doorway.

“Morning.” Her voice came out rough, low and a bit gravely, still laced with sleep. 

“I think I died.”

That made her grin. “Was it peaceful?”

You rubbed your face with both hands, then dropped into the nearest chair. “Mhmm.”

A minute later, she slid a plate in front of you: eggs, toast, something sweet on the side. Real food. A proper breakfast, not just a hurried protein bar like you usually had. She poured coffee into a second mug and set it gently in front of you.

You stared at the food for a beat before saying, “I thought you didn’t like coffee.”

“I don’t, but I know you love it.”

You snorted, but you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, and just desperately hoped that the blonde didn’t notice.

After a few bites, you glanced at her. “I’m not used to this,” you admitted. “Being taken care of like this.”

She didn’t flinch.

“Well,” she said, “get used to it. ‘Cus I’m not going anywhere.”

You ate in silence, just a couple of giggles at how much she disliked coffee at every grimace.

Eventually, your voice dropped to a whisper. “I had enough saved to leave for a long time. I could’ve moved out, gotten my own place, months ago.”

Paige didn’t push. She just looked at you, steady and open. “Why didn’t you?”

Your gaze dropped to your plate. “Because I was scared. Not of him... not really. Just of what it would mean if I left and he didn’t even try to stop me. If he just let me go.”

You paused, shoulders curling in.

“I was scared of what that would say about me. That I gave so much to someone who never gave a damn back.”

Paige’s voice was low, certain. Her eyes told you she was being honest and not just trying to comfort you.

“It wouldn’t say anything about you. It would say everything about him.”

You looked up.

She hadn’t moved. Still steady. Still soft. Still here.

“You stayed because you cared,” she continued. “Because you loved him the way you wished he would love you back. That doesn’t make you weak.”

Your chest tightened.

“It made me feel stupid.”

“It makes you human.”

Your eyes burned. You blinked fast and stared hard at your coffee.

“I don’t know how to do this alone.”

She reached across the table. Not to take your hand, just to set hers down, palm up, close enough if you wanted it. “You’re not alone,” she said. “Not anymore.”

You hesitated. Then slid your hand into hers.

Her fingers closed around yours. She was warm, steady, grounding. She always had been. And that’s when it felt real. Like maybe you could actually begin again.

But this time not alone.

This was... something. Let me know what you think of this fic, it's a lot heavier then I usually write but I quite liked doing it.