It’s not a lie, but it’s not exactly the truth either. It’s not just the tournament. It’s everything, the weight of all of this crashing together. The pressure to win, the chaos I’m balancing between them. The very real possibility that I could lose myself in the middle of everything.
I can’t fall apart. Not when everything I want is in this room, and everything I’ve run from is waiting on the other side of the leader board.
I escape to my room under the pretense of needing to check a few emails. I close the door gently behind me, slide into my desk chair, and open the tournament dashboard again.
The screen illuminates every line of the bracket. My name sits near the top.I stare at it like it might change. Then D7LAN cuts through the high.
My heart thuds against my ribs. That familiar tightness returns, winding up beneath my skin, curling sharp in my stomach. I know I’m better than I was when he knew me. I’ve trained, I’ve grown, I have people now. I have Carter’s steady belief in me. I have Tate’s total protection. I have Cassie’s unwavering support.
But still… seeing his handle makes it all crash back. The way he talked over me during matches. The gaslighting. The manipulation. The way he made me feel like I was never enough—even when I was carrying the team.
A knock sounds on my bedroom door. “Come in.” I wipe my eyes, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry over this bullshit again.
Cassie pushes it open, a box of pastries in hand. “I brought food and judgment. Which do you want first?”
I exhale a shaky laugh. “Judgment, obviously.”
She plops onto the edge of the bed and hands me a cinnamon crumble. “What’s up with your face? You look like you just saw a ghost, are you okay?”
“No,” I say honestly. “But I will be.”
She watches me for a second, then says, “Do Carter and Tate know about Dylan then, like the full actual story?”
“Carter knows the gist,” I admit. “I haven’t told Tate really yet.”
She raises a brow. “What, because you’re worried he’ll lose it and break someone’s neck?”
“Exactly,” I say, managing a smile. “But also because… I don’t want this to become about Dylan. I want it to be about me. Proving I’m better now, that I made it out.”
She leans forward, serious for a moment. “It can still be both, you know. You can want to win for you and want to make him eat shit. They’re not mutually exclusive.”
I laugh, and it actually feels good.
She stands and brushes crumbs off of her jeans. “Let me know if you want to scream into a pillow. Or shove an HDMI cable somewhere inappropriate.”
“You’re such a good friend.”
I’m just finishing my crumble when the door slowly opens, “I smell sugar,” Carter says, peeking in with that boyish grin that makes my stomach do stupid flips.
Tate follows him. “You guys hoarding pastries in here?”
Cassie sighs dramatically. “Can’t even have a breakdown with baked goods in peace.”
Carter hops onto my bed beside her and grabs a crumble. “You like us.”
“I tolerate you,” she says, before turning to me and rolling her eyes dramatically.
I snort.
Tate shakes his head and slinks over to my desk, his eyes darting to the tournament bracket still up on my screen. He doesn’t say anything, just leans against the edge watching me like he knows I’m trying to act normal when I’m not even close.
“Anyway,” Cassie says, standing. “I should head to James’.”
I raise a brow. “James?”
“Yes, James. The guy I’ve been seeing, I mentioned him before.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Seeing or…seeing?”