Pazzi 4 Life @lilirae00 - Tumblr Blog

Feb 19

Still Here - Part 21/21 (Complete)

Summary: Paige and Azzi were never official. But they were never nothing, either. Years in the future when they’re both in the WNBA, everything between them still feels unfinished and impossible to ignore. Inspired by the song, “Why Is She Still Here?” By Reneé Rapp.

Word Count: 20k

Warnings: A little sexual content, but mostly just two girls in love getting their happy ending <3

a/n: I just want to say thank you to everyone who’s stuck around for this journey. I did not intend for this to become what it did, but it’s been one of the most exciting things I’ve accomplished. I hope you love the end as much as I do.

Masterlist

—

FLASH FORWARD - Two Months Later - WNBA Training Camp

The sound of basketballs striking hardwood echoed through the gym in uneven rhythms, sharp and hollow, rising into the rafters before falling back down again. It was loud without being chaotic, familiar in the way repetition eventually turns noise into comfort. Paige had always known how to find herself in places like this.

She was at the free throw line, hands briefly on hips, waiting for the ball to be passed to her again. Sweat gathered at the nape of her neck, darkening the collar of her practice jersey, while a few strands of blonde hair clung to her temples beneath the loose hold of her ponytail. The fabric was warm and heavy against her back when she bent her knees and followed through.

The ball dropped through the net without hitting the rim.

When it came back, she caught it silently, palms steady, breath even. The repetition kept her grounded even though her thoughts continued moving quietly under her consciousness.

She had been here for three days already.

Three days of aching muscles that slowly faded and turned into new pains. Three days of harsh workouts and eager attention. It was enough time to get used to the soreness but not enough to stop the excitement altogether. A feeling of suspension still hung over everything, like her body was aware that she had landed somewhere new even though her mind had not fully caught up yet.

Her gaze drifted toward the glass lining the far sideline, catching her reflection mid-motion. She felt taller, stronger, and more at home in her body. Not just physically stronger but more confident in herself. Her eyes dropped to the number that was stitched on the front of her practice jersey, and her chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with exertion.

Five. Her number wrapped around the colors she chose.

The choice that now lived quietly inside her. It didn’t claw at her or demand justification like it used to, because she had already lived through enough uncertainty to recognize the feeling of when something felt resolved.

“Alright, let’s go. Five-on-five. Bueckers, you’re with white.” The coach’s voice cut across the gym, crisp and authoritative.

Paige nodded and scooped up the ball before jogging toward the huddle. Her legs hummed beneath her skin, lungs steady despite the constant movement. Around her, teammates stretched and tugged at their jerseys, laughing about a blown rotation from the last drill while nudging each other with easy familiarity.

She slipped into the group without making a big deal of it. She wasn’t trying to prove herself anymore. She moved like someone who belonged, not because she needed validation, but because she had trust in her place.

The drill kicked off like usual, quick, hard contact, players bumping then breaking apart in messy rhythm. Paige’s body moved on instinct, no thinking needed. She cut to the wing, threaded a behind-the-back pass to someone near the basket, and slipped through a defender with a hesitation dribble that sent the girl a step the wrong way.

This was her language. It was one of the only things that ever quieted her mind when things got loud.

She wasn’t thinking about contracts, cities, or logos sewn onto uniforms. She was thinking about timing, about spacing, about trust. About how good it felt to play without holding anything back.

Then a body bumped into her near the edge of the court, solid and on purpose.

“Hey, P. Watch yourself.”

The voice came from behind her, low and unmistakable, threaded with that familiar warmth that had lived under her skin for years.

Paige slowed.

Not because she was startled, but because her body recognized the sound before her mind did. She slowly pivoted, pulse ticking up not from anxiety but from a sense of recognition that had settled deep in her chest.

Azzi.

She stood close, both hands resting on her hips, breathing heavy from exhaustion. Drops of sweat caught the light above her collarbone while a few of her curls escaped the tight knot atop her head. There was an ease to her posture that Paige felt immediately. Something solid, familiar, almost painful to witness in a good way.

Their eyes met, and the noise of the gym seemed to fade into the background. Paige felt the truth and fully now, not as fear or relief, but as something quieter and more enduring.

Azzi wasn’t the reason she made this decision.

But she was proof that the decision had been right.

A quiet grin crept over Paige’s lips when she shifted again, palms settling on her thighs as she found her stance. Her pulse hummed low, almost gentle.

She didn’t need to say anything.

Azzi already knew.

When the ball was tossed back into play, Paige drove forward once more, carrying herself like a person who’d just aligned every part of her life into the same direction. Finally.

—

Back to Present Day - Miami, FL

Paige‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ stood motionless just outside the kitchen. Barefoot, sweatpants hanging loosely around her hips. The sound of her heartbeat was louder than the bubbling pan across the room. The phone call had finished over five minutes ago, but her chest had not stopped hurting. Not due to doubt anymore, but from something deeper. Something warm. Strong. True.

She could hear Azzi humming softly to the music coming from her phone which was on the counter. There was bacon sizzling on the stove, and a bowl of eggs waiting nearby. The smell of home.

Paige closed her eyes and let the sensation of ridiculous tenderness take over her. All her life, she had been in pursuit of adrenaline. Titles. Headlines. Her name in lights. But this, this serene moment, was the biggest thing she had ever decided to hold.

Still limping, she moved toward the kitchen carefully. The floor was cool underneath her toes. As she entered, Azzi turned over her shoulder, and a faint smile appeared when she saw her.

“Good morning, superstar.”

That smile nearly broke her, but Paige didn’t respond right away. She stepped up behind Azzi and clasped her arms around her waist. She pressed her face to the side of her neck as if that was the only place she wanted to be. Azzi smelled like citrus shampoo and salt from the morning air blowing in through the balcony door that was cracked open.

“Morning, baby.”

Azzi melted against Paige’s body like it was only there for the sole purpose of holding her up. Her hand reached down and gently squeezed Paige's forearm.

“You left me in bed alone,” Paige mumbled against Azzi’s skin.

“You looked too peaceful,” Azzi whispered. “I thought you deserved to sleep in after last night.”

Paige kissed her neck, her lips lingering for a moment longer than usual. Then she slowly pulled back and turned Azzi to face her, softly but with intent, not caring about the eggs, the stove, or anything else at that moment.

Azzi tried to resist and laughed a little while pointing toward the stove. “I'm making breakfast, you lunatic.”

“I need you to look at me for just a second,” Paige said quietly.

Something in her tone made Azzi freeze. She turned fully now, confusion spreading across her face as she took Paige in. She blinked and looked up at her fully, eyes wide.

At first, Paige stood there silently. She just looked at her, really looked. She saw how her cheeks were still slightly puffy from sleep and her curls even more frizzy. Paige didn’t know how the hell she got so lucky.

“Have I told you how in love I am with you lately?” she whispered, as if it was something sacred.

Azzi didn’t say a word. She simply leaned forward and kissed her, deeply and gently, like she understood what Paige wanted to say but couldn’t find the words yet. Their mouths moved together like muscle memory, like no time had ever passed between them.

Between kisses, Paige said it. “I told them yes.”

Azzi stopped, looked into Paige’s eyes, and pulled back just enough to search them. “What?”

Paige’s bright blue eyes held hers. She wrapped her arms around Azzi’s waist tighter like she was afraid to let her go. “I told them yes.”

Azzi stared at her, brows slightly furrowed. Paige could see the battle going on behind those big brown eyes that she was trying to hide. The question she didn’t want to ask. “Told who?” her voice was barely a whisper.

Paige didn’t rush to answer. Instead, she leaned in and kissed her again. This time her kiss was softer and more tender. A smile teased at her lips when she pulled away.

Azzi groaned a little, playfully frustrated. “Paige, stop. Quit with the dramatics. Told who?”

Paige was beaming so brightly that her eyes sparkled like someone had just flipped a switch behind her ribs. “I’m coming home, ” she said. “To Minnesota. To you.”

Azzi was stunned. Without a word, she stared at her like she was trying to figure out if she was dreaming or not. Then tears formed in her eyes, and her hands moved up to Paige's face like muscle memory. They kissed again, hard and breathless. The kind of kiss that was filled with disbelief, hope, and something deeper than either of them could ever put into words.

“Promise?” she whispered almost inaudibly into her mouth.

Paige chuckled softly. “Yes, princess. I’m signing next week.”

Azzi slowly moved away, just far enough to see her face. “What about…Golden State. That offer was…”

“I know,” Paige said, cutting her off gently. She leaned back against the counter, hand still tangled in Azzi’s. “Minnesota matched it, said they’d pretty much do anything to get me there. But that wasn’t really the point. I wasn’t choosing between cities or teams or even numbers.”

Azzi stared at her, heart in her throat.

“I was choosing my future,” Paige said. “And there isn’t a version of that where you’re not in it.”

The silence that followed didn’t feel like silence at all. It felt like the quiet that comes after something holy. Azzi stepped into her arms again, and Paige let herself be held. Let herself believe that for the first time in a long time, maybe she hadn’t lost anything at all.

She’d just come home.

—

After breakfast, Paige‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ carried the plates to the sink while Azzi stayed at the counter a little longer, casually wiping it down even though it wasn’t dirty. Her body was still buzzing with the news that Paige had just shared.

Minnesota. Signing. Coming home.

Paige’s eyes stayed locked onto her for a moment, her chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with nerves anymore.

She walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch, letting the cushions take most of her weight while her ankle propped up on the coffee table in front of her. Azzi walked over just a few seconds later and grabbed the throw blanket that was over the arm of the couch, like she was about to fold it or straighten it or do anything except stop and feel.

Paige reached out.

She grabbed Azzi’s wrist as she walked past, fingers warm and sure, and tugged just enough to pull Azzi off balance.

“Hey,” Paige said gently.

Azzi let out a surprised breath and dropped down onto the couch in a way that was more than willing. She landed next to Paige with their knees knocking together. Paige didn’t let go. She kept her hand clasped around Azzi’s wrist, her thumb resting just at the point where her pulse jumped fast and alive under her skin.

For a second, Azzi just looked at their hands that were joined together. Then she looked up at Paige, catching blue eyes full of thought and love, mostly love.

Paige held her gaze, carefully examining her eyes. “Talk to me,” she whispered, “What's on your mind?”

Azzi swallowed and her expression changed into something like relief, and a little disbelief that all of it was real and done and decided.

“I’m okay,” she answered in a low voice. “It’s just that…I think I was bracing myself for so long that I don’t really know what to do now that I don’t have to.”

Paige gave a short, breathless laugh. “Yeah. Same.”

She pulled Azzi close until their shoulders touched, and until Azzi's thigh pressed along hers. Paige leaned in and kissed the corner of Azzi's mouth softly. It wasn’t urgent. It was grounding. A check-in.

Azzi turned her head and returned the kiss just as gently. Then another. And another. Little stolen kisses between breaths, and between half-finished thoughts.

“I need you to know,” Paige said quietly but with a touch of something she had kept inside for years, “that I didn’t choose Minnesota because it was easy. I chose it because it was you.”

Azzi swallowed, her throat working as the words settled.

Paige gently tightened her grip, not letting Azzi look away. “I spent years wanting you quietly or carefully…like if I didn’t ask for too much, I wouldn’t lose you.” Her jaw flexed, the old restraint surfacing just long enough to be acknowledged. “I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Her thumb traced Azzi's wrist before she raised her hand and cupped her face instead, grounding her there.

“I want you loudly,” Paige declared, and there was no doubt in her voice now. “I want you in the open, everyday. And I want everyone to know that I’m yours.”

Azzi let out a shaky breath as vulnerability flashed in her eyes. She leaned in close, resting her forehead briefly against Paige's before answering.

“Well then it’s a good thing,” she said, her hands gripping the front of Paige's shirt, “that I’m never going to shut up about you.”

That was all it took.

Their lips met with more intensity, not all at once but inevitably. Their mouths opened and their tongues brushed against each other lightly and slowly. Paige leaned in more, gently pushing Azzi against the couch cushions. And Azzi went easily, her body already responding, matching her rhythm.

Their hands started to roam without hurry. Paige's fingers found their way beneath the hem of Azzi's shirt, warm skin there waiting like an invitation. Azzi shivered at the touch and tugged Paige by the back of her shirt, pulling her closer and craving more contact, more weight.

They stayed upright for a few minutes, kissing until their breathing went uneven, and until Paige’s forehead dropped on Azzi's shoulder and inhaled, steadying herself with the scent of her.

Then Paige wanted more, so she shifted, lowering them both down.

She moved carefully, mindful of her ankle and mindful of the girl beneath her. She carefully lowered Azzi back onto the couch. Then she followed her down, bracing herself on top of her. Their legs tangled naturally, hips pressing close, thighs fitting together like muscle memory snapping into place.

Paige kissed Azzi’s neck, slow and deliberate. Her mouth lingered over warm skin, and her breath sent shivers through Azzi’s entire body. Azzi’s hands slid up her back, nails digging in just enough to ground her, to keep her there.

“Paige,” she breathed, not asking, just feeling.

Paige responded by rolling her hips forward, slow and steady, letting the friction speak for her. Azzi gasped, her head falling back, and her hands gripping Paige’s shirt.

Clothes were stripped away slowly but deliberately. There was no rush in their movements, no frantic tugging. Just the need. Shirts came off while their fingers brushed the warm skin beneath. Shorts slid down hips and underwear was pulled away with quiet groans until they were both bare and breathless under the morning sunlight that streamed through the living room windows.

Azzi lay back against the cushion of the couch, her hair was spread like a halo under her, her skin now flushed and warm. Paige hovered over, straddling one thigh while she guided her own leg between Azzi’s.

As soon as her thigh touched Azzi’s center, she felt the heat and slickness waiting for her. Azzi gasped, her head falling back as her hips rolled upward without hesitation.

Azzi’s thigh pressed against Paige’s center at the same time, her breath caught as she felt her, just as wet, just as ready. They instinctively moved together, grinding into each other with slow, deliberate rhythm. Not frantic, not messy, just desperate in the way that only love could be.

Paige leaned down, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to Azzi’s throat. Her lips grazed over the curve of her neck, over the hollow just below her ear, until Azzi’s fingers tangled in her hair, tugging her even closer.

Azzi’s‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ hands quickly traced down the slope of Paige’s back, finding the curve of her ass to pull her closer, craving more pressure, more friction, more of the steady rhythm they were building together.

Their bodies were pressed together now, skin slick with sweat, their breathing laboured and uneven, and yet they kept going. Paige moved her hips against her with her thigh firm and stable, giving Azzi exactly what she needed. Azzi arched beneath her, her breath broken by soft moans, her fingers scratching Paige’s skin and then dragging down her back as the pleasure started to build.

They moved in harmony, chest against chest, lips almost touching between sighs, eyes closing and then opening again to meet with intense unspoken communication. There was no need for words. Everything was said in the way they held each other, how they breathed through every movement, their bodies being intertwined while both chasing the peak.

Paige rested her forehead for a moment against Azzi’s, her lips still lightly kissing whatever skin she could reach. She felt Azzi start to tremble now, she could see her rhythm stutter and she could feel the way Azzi’s hands went tighter around her body with every passing second.

“I love you,” Paige breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi’s eyes locked with hers immediately. She was speechless. The words on their own were enough to unravel her. Her body responded, with fingers digging into Paige’s skin as her orgasm hit her, going through her in deep, shuddering waves. Paige kept holding her, kissed her cheek, her neck, her lips, never letting go.

And then she followed. Watching Azzi totally lose it under her, feeling her orgasm against her thigh, the way Azzi was holding her as if she’d never let go, it all wrecked her.

Paige pressed down against Azzi’s thigh harder, rubbing against her until her own orgasm rushed through her, raw and overpowering, drawn out by the rhythm they refused to break.

They stayed pressed together after, barely moving as a result of their energy being drained. But there were still slow rolls of their hips, like their bodies hadn’t realized it was over yet. There were messy kisses, hands gliding over damp skin, and the soft whispers of admiration at each other.

It wasn’t just sex. It never had been. This was them, letting go of every version of almost. This was the first page of the life they were about to build. Together.

Azzi let out a breathless laugh, soft and unexpected. It started small, barely more than an exhale against Paige’s collarbone, but then it bubbled up into a quiet giggle that shook her chest beneath Paige’s cheek.

Paige looked up at the movement, her eyebrows furrowing in lazy curiosity as she gazed down at her. One hand was still resting on Azzi’s waist while the other rose up, sweeping away a loose strand of hair from her damp forehead.

“What's funny?” she asked, her voice still low and warm from everything they had just shared.

Azzi looked up at her with a smiling face, cheeks flushed, eyes a little glassy from the slow comedown, as if she were still half way in the aftermath. She tried to compose herself, but another laugh escaped her anyway.

“Oh my god,” she said, shaking her head a little between breaths. “It’s been so long since I’ve come like that.”

Paige pretended to be clueless while her mouth was already turned up. “Like what?” she questioned as she lazily dragged her thumb along Azzi’s hip.

Azzi let out a laugh, her hands moving up Paige’s back, fingers continuing the slow tracing of the outline of her spine. “Like a horny teenager,” she admitted, voice going softer at the end, equal parts embarrassed and proud.

Paige's laugh was softer, lower in pitch. She caressed Azzi's flushed cheek with her knuckles, her touch being affectionate rather than teasing. “Well,” she whispered, her eyes steady, “you always had that effect on me. Back then...and clearly ‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌now.”

The‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ teasing edge was softened towards the end, and it was replaced with something more steady. Something real.

Azzi blinked, her expression shifting as her fingers slipped gently into Paige’s hair, holding her close without saying a word. Paige went easily, resting her head against Azzi’s chest, her cheek pressed to the warm skin just above her heart.

It had gone quiet in the apartment once again.

It was that silence of something familiar, something done, something decided. Paige lay on top of Azzi, her body settled in that warm perfect feeling of tiredness and afterglow. Their skin stuck to each other slightly where the sweat had cooled and dried.

After a while, when their breathing had slowed and Paige’s body had gone heavy with contentment, Azzi spoke. It came out cautiously, a little too casual to be truly offhanded.

“So…have you thought about where you’ll live once you move back?”

Paige moved a little but kept her eyes closed. “Mmm. Whatcha mean?”

Azzi hesitated. Her fingers kept brushing through Paige’s hair. “Just...when we get to Minnesota. I know I already have a place, and I didn't want to assume, just because we’ve been living together here, that... “

“I don't wanna live there,” Paige said, gently but firmly, without opening her eyes.

Azzi's hand paused their movements.

“Oh,” she said. Just one syllable, soft and careful. There was something in it that wound itself up, like maybe she hadn’t meant to hope but had anyway.

Paige felt the shift right away. She opened her eyes and pulled back just a little so that she could look at her. Azzi's face didn't show disappointment exactly, but Paige noticed a little flicker of sadness that didn’t quite know where to land yet.

“Hey,” she said gently and reached up to brush a damp strand of hair away from Azzi's face. “I didn't mean to say it like that.”

Azzi tried to play it off with a shrug, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. “It’s okay. I get it. I just wasn’t sure if…”

“I don't want to live there,” Paige reiterated, “because it's the place I used to leave feeling like shit. That’s where I used to pretend that it didn't matter seeing someone else’s coffee mug, toothbrush, and pictures on the fridge.”

Azzi blinked.

Paige held her gaze, steady. “That apartment isn’t ours. It just holds too many versions of us that we’ve outgrown.”

Azzi’s expression shifted, a slow unraveling. Her eyes softened, and the tension in her brow melted just enough to let the truth sink in.

Paige leaned towards her and rubbed their noses together. “I want us to have something totally new that’s ours from the start. A place where we argue over what color to paint the walls and choose the furniture. I want to move to Minnesota with you, not into your past.”

Azzi let out a breath, a little choked up, and nodded slowly. “That sounds nice.”

“I'm serious,” Paige whispered, “We waited so long to get here and I don't wanna carry any more ghosts. I wanna build something new. With you.”

Azzi closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her tone was softer. “I really want that too.”

Paige leaned in and kissed her, slow and thankful.

They stayed wrapped up in each other for a while longer, letting the moment's weight wrap around them like a blanket. But eventually, Azzi moved a little under Paige, her fingers brushed the closest pillow before reaching back to where her phone was tucked behind them. “What time is it?”

Paige stretched her arm towards the coffee table and looked at her phone screen in surprise. “10:45.”

Azzi groaned. “Ugh. We have to get up. We're meeting our family at noon.”

Paige's groan was more dramatic as she rolled onto her back. “We definitely need to shower. We smell like sex.”

Azzi immediately made a face, scrunching her nose as she lightly pushed against Paige's shoulder. “Oh my God. Don't say it like that.”

Paige grinned, enjoying every moment of her fluster. “What? It's the truth.”

Azzi shook her head, cheeks reddening as the truth was sinking in. The sweat on their bodies, the scent of flesh and heat and everything they had just done was still lingering between them.

“I know it's true,” she whispered, placing her hand on her forehead, “but you don't have to narrate it like we're filming a documentary.”

Paige's smile widened as she saw Azzi try and fail to hide her smile. “Fine. I won’t narrate.”

She tugged at a strand of Azzi’s hair just to see her huff again. “But it’s still true.”

Azzi was halfway to standing now, placing a hand on the couch as she attempted to push Paige's warm, heavy body off of her with very little success. She was still feeling loose and limp after the afterglow, her limbs being uncooperative, but she managed to wiggle free enough to sit upright.

She ran a hand through her messy hair and said, “Go take a shower. I’ll clean up the kitchen.”

Paige didn’t move, nor did she pretend to. She just stayed there on her stomach, with her chin resting on her forearm, and watched Azzi with a lazy, lovesick look, which she always denied having. “Wait,” she whispered, narrowing her eyes with suspicion and playfulness. “You’re not coming with me?”

Azzi shook her head instantly and pointed at her with a finger. “No ma'am. Absolutely not. I think you have had enough.”

A slow smile appeared on Paige's lips as she pushed herself up on her elbows. “Debatable,” she said under her breath, and the word was packed with mischief, like she was already planning how to change Azzi's mind.

Before Azzi could fully get up, Paige reached for her with the kind of mischievous instinct she never tried to hide. Her arms wrapped around Azzi's waist from behind, palms warm against the still-sensitive skin, and with one move she lifted her clean off the couch.

Azzi let out a shocked squeal that changed into a breathless laugh, her legs kicking wildly in the air as she wiggled in her hold. “Paige...put me down!” she pleaded between laughing, and her voice was a little cracked, revealing how boneless she was still feeling from what they had done.

Paige just squeezed her tighter, her smile against Azzi's shoulder. “I'm just saying,” she whispered, and her breath was warm against Azzi's skin, “you’re being pretty mean to someone who just rocked your world.”

Azzi tried to glare at her, but it dissolved the second Paige spun her slightly, making her head fall back against Paige’s shoulder as another laugh escaped her. She was still breathless, still flushed, still soft all over in ways she didn’t know how to hide.

“You’re ridiculous,” she managed, looping an arm back to steady herself against Paige’s neck.

Paige kissed her shoulder in a smug little victory gesture before finally giving up. She lowered Azzi slowly back onto her feet, careful with her balance, letting her go only when Azzi swatted at her thigh.

Still‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ grinning, Azzi crouched to pick up the nearest T-shirt from the floor. It was a rumpled mess and she had no idea if it was hers or Paige’s, but it didn’t matter. The material was soft and worn and it carried the scent of both of them.

She tugged it over her head, the bottom edge barely covered the top of her legs, and for a moment she stood there adjusting it, catching her breath, trying to find the strength to be a functioning adult again.

Then, barefoot and still humming with leftover warmth, she headed into the kitchen. With one hand, she brushed the hair from her face and with the other grabbed the breakfast plates they had left out, slipping into that quiet domestic tempo that she always went into without realizing.

Paige stood by the bedroom door, propping her shoulder on the frame. Still naked, still flushed. Still totally undone in every way possible. She just stood there and watched Azzi moving through their kitchen like she belonged, because she did.

The long sweep of her legs, the oversized T-shirt hanging off one shoulder, the quiet humming under her breath, the way she reached for their dishes like this was already their shared life…it hit Paige deeper than she was prepared for.

She felt a slow heat rising to the surface, spreading until her chest was so full of something that there was no room left for anything else. She thought about Minnesota. About the contract she’d waited years to earn. About choosing a team, a city, a future. But really, truly, it had always been this. It had always been her.

Watching Azzi move around the kitchen, Paige realized with sharp, devastating clarity that nothing in the world would ever replace the love she had for this woman. No championship, no accolade, no spotlight. Nothing would ever come close. She would never love anyone the way she loved Azzi Fudd. Fiercely, stupidly, and completely. And now? She wasn’t afraid of that truth. She welcomed it. She wanted it.

Because it wouldn’t just be basketball that took her to Minnesota.

She was moving home to her.

—

They arrived at the little Mediterranean restaurant Azzi’s parents found in the city that they liked, the one with the tiled floors and soft music and outdoor patio that always smelled faintly of rosemary.

The Miami sun was filtered through the wooden awning above, warm but not too warm. The table was already half-full when Paige and Azzi got there. Bob was waving over them energetically, Drew smiling his shy but cool-for-his-age greeting. Katie and Tim got up when they saw the girls, their smiles were soft and immediate.

As soon as they got there, people shifted their chairs, arms opened, voices went up.

“There’s my girl!” Bob shouted, walking halfway to Paige before she reached him. “Champion!”

Paige chuckled, hugging him, and being careful with her ankle. Katie and Tim kissed both their cheeks like they’d been gone for months instead of a few hours.

The second they sat, the conversation flowed as easily as the water the server brought over. Bob started retelling Paige’s last minutes of the game with his hands in the air, while Drew explained with his teen sarcasm that he was so familiar with the play that he knew it better than any grown-up at the table.

“You’ll have to rewatch your first half again,” Tim pointed at Paige. “Everyone in the arena couldn’t believe you were going off like that, but I wasn’t surprised to see Paige Buckets getting Buckets!”

“Dad...” Azzi groaned, but she couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her mouth because she was also just as proud but she knew Paige didn’t like being the center of attention.

Katie‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ leaned in worriedly, worry knitting her brows. “But your ankle, how is it? Did you ice it? Did you elevate it? You two didn't stay out too late partying, did you?”

Azzi snorted into her glass. “If by partying you mean leaving early, taking Advil and trying not to fall asleep on the car ride home…”

Paige opened her mouth in mock offense, her face heating as she gave Azzi's knee a nudge under the table. “Hey...I was tired.”

Azzi's smile softened, the teasing turning into something fond, almost nostalgic. “I know,” she whispered, gently brushing her leg against Paige's. It was the kind of affectionate back and forth they'd always had, trolling each other with a gentleness that nearly reached devotion.

As everyone ordered, the conversation became even more relaxed. Drew asked if either of them had met any celebrities during Unrivaled, Katie complained about Miami heat, Bob teased Tim for wearing jeans in 85-degree weather. It was comfortable. Familiar. Like they'd done this every week for years.

And yet, under the table, Azzi kept rubbing her leg against Paige's. Not in an urgent way but persistently.

A quiet reminder: Tell them.

But Paige kept delaying.

Eventually, Azzi lost her patience. “Paige has some news to share,” she declared, her voice careful but unmistakably pointed.

Paige froze, fork halfway to her mouth. Her eyes darted to Azzi, who had the audacity and the absolute nerve to smirk. A tiny, victorious smirk. And on top of it, she winked.

Everyone at the table looked up at the same time.

Katie immediately leaned over, her face full of motherly concern. “What news? Are you okay? Is something wrong? What happened?”

Azzi quickly reached out, putting a reassuring hand on her mother's forearm.

“We’re both fine,” she said gently to her. “Just...let her talk.”

Paige gulped. Now she was painfully aware of the eyes on her at the table and the heat creeping up her neck. Her heart was racing. It was unfair, because she wasn’t revealing a disaster or tragedy. This was good news. This was everything she wanted.

But somehow the words still stuck in her chest, tangled with all the years she was afraid of making the wrong decision.

Azzi watched her quietly, her expression soft and patient in a way that steadied more than it pressured.

Paige exhaled and allowed herself to feel the moment. She let Azzi's knee press against hers under the table, which grounded her.

“So,” Paige said, her voice less firm than she thought, “I, um…I guess we can officially say Unrivaled is over for the season. Which means that we’ll be moving out of the apartment next week.”

Bob nodded along, smiling. “Makes sense,” he said. “If you want, I can help you pack and ship your things so nothing goes missing.”

Paige shook her head. “Actually…we won’t be needing separate boxes.”

Azzi’s hand slid under the table, palm up, brushing the back of Paige’s knuckles. It was there waiting for her. Paige didn’t take it, not yet, but she felt the offer like a pulse beneath her skin.

“What does that mean?” Drew asked with a mouthful of pita.

Paige raised her chin. Finally, everything fell into place. The fear was mixed with something that was steadier, brighter, more certain than she had ever felt.

“It means,” she said, speaking stronger, “that I chose Minnesota. I’ll be signing next week.”

For a second, the table was silent. One suspended heartbeat where everything seemed to freeze in the thick Miami air.

Then Bob jumped up from his chair with so much power that the table shook. “WHAT?!” he shouted, grabbing Paige already. “Stand up! Stand up now!”

Paige laughed out loud as he practically dragged her to her feet and wrapped her in an almost suffocating hug. “Dad, oh my God...”

“No,” he said, burying his face in her hair. “You don’t get to stop me. I’m so proud of you, Paige. Do you hear me? So proud.” He rocked her once, as if she was still a little girl. “You earned this.”

When he let her go, it was only to lift Azzi out of her chair and hug her too. “And you...come here. Because I know what it means to both of you.”

Azzi laughed as she embraced him, her cheeks flushed. “Thanks, Bob.”

“You take care of each other,” he said, firmly.

Katie was already sobbing. She tried to disguise it behind the napkin, but Azzi noticed right away and reached out, touching her mother's arm gently. Her voice lowered. “Mom... don't cry.”

“Oh, shush,” Katie sniffled, waving her off while more tears were coming down. “I’m allowed.”

Paige's heart ached. The sight of the Fudds reacting this way, like her decision mattered to them as well…it hit her unexpectedly hard. She walked around the table to Katie, offering her arms without words, and Katie stood up immediately, wrapping her arms around her like she was her own daughter.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Katie whispered, hugging Paige tightly. “I am so proud of you. You worked so hard for this. So hard. And you're going to be amazing.”

Paige shut her eyes, the very emotion making her blush. She missed this…the Fudds, the easy love they gave so openly when she and Azzi were at their best. She missed being part of something that felt safe.

“Thanks, Mom,” Paige whispered.

Katie pulled away just enough to look at her, her eyes were watery and wide. “You finally stopped calling me Katie.”

Paige snickered softly. “Well. It just felt right.”

After everyone was settled again and drinks reloaded, Tim let out a dramatic throat clearing that made Azzi immediately suspicious. “Papa is going to lose his mind when he hears this,” he said, leaning back in his chair as if he was waiting for a reaction.

Azzi groaned even before the second half of the sentence. She buried her face in her hands, her voice was muffled and full of dread that wasn’t really dread. “Oh my God, please don't start.”

Tim completely ignored her, warming up to the topic. “He already has her posters all over the house.”

“And a sweatshirt with your face on it,” Katie added, pointing at Paige as if this was a perfectly normal piece of family trivia.

Paige's eyes brightened, her entire face was lit up with delighted surprise. “I love Papa,” she said, her sincerity flowing out like she hadn’t even meant to say it aloud.

Azzi raised her head, throwing a quick glance at her. She was torn between embarrassment and affection. She half-heartedly pointed at Paige, but the fondness in her eyes gave her away. “Well... I've gotta admit,” she said, exhaling a small laugh, “he does have excellent taste.”

Paige looked at her with an amazed, melting kind of smile and Azzi tried to hide her face again but Katie caught the moment and let out a small happy sigh, nudging Tim as if to say, “Look at them.”

Azzi didn't argue Her grandfather's devotion to Paige was embarrassing, but at this moment, seeing Paige thrilled by the attention, she was thankful for it. Proud of it, even. Because of course Papa loved Paige.

Katie reached over and entwined her fingers with Azzi's wrist, her eyes shining with a mix of curiosity and maternal interrogation.

“Okay, but when did you find out?” she inquired. “Was it today? Did she tell you last night? How did she say it? Were you surprised? I want the whole ‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌story.”

Azzi‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ exhaled softly and straightened up a little in her chair. The attention flushed her cheeks faster than she could stop it, and for a moment, she stared hard at the condensation on her water glass to give herself a second to think.

Paige noticed the hesitation immediately. The way Azzi's lips were tightly pressed together, the way her hand went up unconsciously to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, the way her eyes looked away from her mom as if she had just been asked to reveal a secret of the state.

She absolutely couldn't share the whole story. Definitely not the part where they ended up on the couch, naked, two hours later.

Azzi cleared her throat, flushed. “Umm... yeah. It was this morning.”

Katie leaned in eagerly, and Azzi managed to let out a soft smile, keeping her voice casual and light. “I was cooking breakfast. I let her sleep in after everything that went on last night. And then she just…casually walked into the kitchen like it was totally normal and she kissed me and said she told her agent to tell them yes,” Azzi chuckled remembering that morning. “And I had to force her to tell me to who she said yes to.”

Paige watched the way Azzi told the story. The careful restraint, the little hesitation before each sentence, the tiny blush at the tip of her ears that she couldn't hide. There was a gentle look in her face too, like a secret.

Katie clutched a hand over her heart. “Oh my God, that’s adorable.”

Azzi smiled, looking down at her plate as if she could disappear there. “Yes, it really was.”

Paige raised her glass to her mouth, making an effort, and failing, to disguise the fact that her face had softened completely. She had never been looked at with such adoration as Azzi looked at her when she was telling that story.

And even though Azzi had omitted the parts that were not family friendly, the truth of the moment was still there. Quiet, intimate, them.

Azzi felt Paige’s gaze and glanced over, cheeks pink, and Paige swore the entire world narrowed to the tiny, shy curl of her smile

Drew leaned close to Paige, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You know you’re making everyone uncomfortable looking at her like that.”

Paige was at a loss for words. “Like what?”

Drew twisted his nose. “I don’t know, like you’re imagining her naked or something.”

Paige chuckled and whispered back, “I don’t have to imagine that.”

“Gross,” Drew exclaimed, giving her a gentle shove.

Paige only shrugged, completely unaffected. “Then next time, mind your business.”

Azzi, who had overheard the last of their whispers, once again nudged Paige under the table with her knee. This time a playful, loving little tap that seemed to say stop corrupting your brother and I love you so much it’s stupid.

And for the very first time, Paige allowed herself to relax in her chair, take a breath, and feel it fully.

—

When the plates were cleared and the last crumbs of pita and roasted vegetables were eaten, the energy at the table shifted into that gleaming excitement that always came whenever family started thinking about the future.

Tim exhaled a contented sigh as he leaned back, rubbing his belly. “I still can’t believe it. You two on the same court again. It’s like college all over, but even better.”

Katie clasped her hands together, clearly delighted. “I’m already picturing it. Our girls, out there together finally.” Then turning to Azzi. “You know your dad and I will be at every home game, right?”

“Every single one,” Tim confirmed with a proud nod. “Your mom already renewed the season tickets.”

Bob raised his hand like he was asking for a turn. “Okay, well, now I need to figure out season tickets. Somebody help me out with that.”

Paige groaned affectionately. “Dad…”

“No, no, don’t ‘Dad’ me,” Bob said, pointing at her. “I’ve been waiting years to see you both on the same court again. I will be at as many games as possible.”

Azzi giggled, cheeks hot with a kind of joy she could hardly ever hide around her parents. “Papa’s going to lose it,” she said quietly, still shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe the extent of her grandfather’s obsession with ‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌Paige.

Everyone‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ exploded in laughter, and Paige felt her face turn red in a fluster of embarrassed affection. Only the Fudd family could embarrass her in a way that made her heart swell with love.

The conversation soon shifted to housing and other practicalities such as which neighborhood they might consider, who would be responsible for the packing of things, whether Paige would bring her car along or fly and ship it, and if Azzi would keep her old apartment as a backup or decide to start fresh completely.

“We definitely want to visit after you’ve settled in,” Katie said with shining eyes. “You just let us know, and we’ll be there. And don’t worry about feeding yourselves, we’ll fill your fridge. You two just concentrate on moving in.”

Bob was nodding vigorously. “Yeah, and tell me if you want help unpacking when you get there. I’ll fly up there if you need me.”

It was warm and cozy. The kind of disorder only families are capable of with everyone talking at once, offering help they didn’t really need to offer, and making plans that Paige hadn’t even thought of yet because she was still overwhelmed by the idea of choosing Minnesota in the first place.

When the bill came and they all stood up from the table, the mood shifted more into that soft and heavy way goodbyes always are, even when everybody was sure they would see each other again soon.

Hugs were exchanged in waves. Katie kissed Paige twice on the cheek, insisting the second one was “for luck.” Tim hugged her with both arms and told her that Minnesota had no clue what kind of gift they were receiving. Bob hugged Azzi so tightly that she had to laugh and tell him that she still needed to breathe. There were promises of calls, group texts, and travel arrangements.

People started moving towards the cars. Paige and Azzi walked toward theirs while the others headed to the rental van that they were driving to the airport.

But Drew hesitated. He stayed behind, hands in his pockets, eyes shifting between his family and Paige until he finally walked over to her.

“Hey,” he said in a low voice, pulling her by the elbow before she could follow Azzi.

Paige stared at him, taken aback by this sudden seriousness. “What’s up?”

Drew glanced around, then looked at her in that sincere, awkward way only a little brother can do. “I… I just wanted to say that I’m really happy for you, Paigey.”

Paige felt her heart jump. Drew was not the emotional type. Far from it.

He continued before Paige had a chance to answer. “And you should…just you know…look after Azzi.”

Paige squinted at him teasingly, leaning in. “Look after Azzi? Are you choosing her over me now?”

He shrugged, unconcerned. “I mean…I think she’s kinda my sister too at this point.”

The words hit her so unexpectedly that she couldn’t hide her sudden emotion. Her chest felt heavy, her eyes watered, and before he could say anything, Paige was hugging him tightly.

“Thanks, Drewski,” she whispered into his ear. “Really.”

He cleared his throat, visibly uneasy but not pulling away. “Okay, okay, that’s enough.”

She released him with a soft laugh and gave him a gentle nudge toward the van. “Tell Dad not to get lost again in the airport.”

“I’m not his babysitter,” Drew muttered, but his grin gave him away.

Paige watched him jog back to the family then turned around where Azzi was standing, arms loosely crossed, looking at her with a quiet, understanding expression.

Paige approached her without a second thought and took Azzi’s hand into hers.

“Ready?” she asked.

Azzi nodded but her eyes stayed on Paige for a moment longer, warm and certain. “Always.”

Still holding hands, they walked side by side toward the car, their fingers fitting together naturally like this gesture had become its own language between them. It felt instinctive. Right.

A quiet final note to their last days in Miami, not as two people waiting for their lives to align but as two people already stepping into the future they had chosen together.

Paige opened Azzi’s car door for her, and then moved around to the driver's side. After she started the car, the silence felt warm, not hollow. A leftover hum from everything that had happened, everything they’d shared, and everything that was coming next.

She put her hand on the center console, glanced at her side, and with a soft smile, asked, “Where to next?”

Azzi turned her head, eyes still a little glassy from the emotions of lunch, and gave a tender shrug that landed like a hit just at the back of Paige’s sternum. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “As long as I’m with you.”

Paige felt the answer settle into her bones. It was steady, certain, and right. She lifted Azzi’s hand and kissed the back of it, just once, before pulling out of the parking lot and into the soft Miami afternoon.

—

FLASH FORWARD - Back to Two Months Later - Minneapolis, MN

The‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ drive back from practice seemed to take forever, even though the sun was still out, and the roads had by now become familiar in a way they hadn't been just two months ago. The air in Minnesota was different from Miami, sharper and cleaner. It was the kind that made your lungs feel alive and awake, even in the summertime.

Inside the car, though, everything felt quiet and subdued. The music was off. Paige's hands were steady on the steering wheel, knuckles relaxed, and her posture was surprisingly loose in that deceptively calm way she got when she was too absorbed in her thoughts.

Meanwhile, Azzi was in the passenger seat with her training bag shoved between her ankles. Her eyes were glued to a line of trees passing by the window. She didn’t seem angry, at least not completely. Instead, she looked...like she was holding something back.

Like there was a strong force inside her that she was holding tightly. The roots of her hair were still wet with sweat, the strands of curls around her temples were becoming loose, and she kept rubbing her thumb over one spot on the strap of her bag, like she was trying to smooth the whole day down by sheer will.

Paige was no stranger to Azzi missing shots. She also knew how Azzi would get frustrated with herself. And she had actually witnessed Azzi's coping mechanisms especially during those times when they both were unaware of the fact they could stay in the same room while holding tough emotions.

Azzi would just go silent and disappear inside herself, and Paige would either continue pretending she didn’t care or push too hard and fast with her, as if she could forcibly bulldoze them back to okay.

But now, Paige was allowing the silence to exist without treating it like it was dangerous.

She stole a glance at the stoplight and caught a glimpse of Azzi's clenched jaw and the distant look in her eyes. Azzi was avoiding her gaze, but eventually, she stretched her arm over the middle console of the car and placed her hand gently on Paige's thigh.

The touch was steady. Warm. Not urgent. Just there.

Paige felt the tightness in her chest loosen up as she laid her hand on top of Azzi's and gave it a slow and reassuring squeeze before she took both hands back on the wheel. She didn't prod. Didn't pry.

The message was clear enough.

Azzi was still here, still with her. She just needed a little time to sort through the noise in her own head first.

Paige pulled into their driveway as the late afternoon light stretched long across the yard, the kind of golden Minnesota summer light that lingered longer than it had any right to. The house glowed softly in it, warm brick catching the sun, the windows reflecting back a sky that felt wide and endless.

It wasn't huge in a flashy way, but it had the essentials: space, light, and a backyard that made Paige feel like she could finally exhale. Two months ago, it had just been an idea. And then it turned into a signature on a piece of paper. The closing date circled on a calendar. Now it was theirs, in the most quiet and truest way.

The garage door rolled up, and before Paige had even switched the car to park, they could already hear him.

A sudden high-pitched bark resonated faintly through the door connecting the garage with the house, immediately followed by the loud pawing scrabble that had the effect of a tambourine being shaken on the other side of the wall.

Paige couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her mouth. “There’s our welcome committee,” she whispered, killing the engine.

They barely had time to grab their bags before Paige pulled open the door that connected the garage to the house, and Moose came barreling through the entryway like he had been launched.

The mini goldendoodle with his dark brown curls bouncing, ears flipping upward in a way that earned him his namesake, slid a little on the concrete before regaining traction. His tail wagged so wildly that the whole backside of his body moved with it and he let out a sound that was partly a yelp and partly an ecstatic whine, as if they had been separated for weeks rather than a few ‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌hours.

“Hey,‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ buddy,” Paige whispered as she opened the door wider, and the dog catapulted himself like a missile, front paws first reaching for Azzi. He always went to Azzi first. It was a betrayal Paige tolerated partly because she loved how Azzi acted like she didn’t need him, even though she always cuddled him the moment his face appeared in her space.

Azzi crouched down with a sigh that was like someone who has held her breath for two hours. She scratched behind his ears and allowed him to lick her chin and nose without a fight. “Hey stink,” she called him gently even as her fingers went deeper into his curls. “You gotta stop acting like we abandoned you.”

Paige watched the way Azzi’s shoulders softened under the dog’s relentless affection and felt the smallest crack in the tension from practice finally give way.

Paige grabbed both their practice bags in one hand and shut the door with her foot. She watched Azzi for a beat, watched her soak up the dog’s chaos like it was medicine, and then she stepped closer, pressed a kiss to Azzi’s temple, and spoke quietly enough that it felt like something only Azzi could hear.

“Baby, you can go shower,” Paige said, her lips close to the hairline. “I’ll take him out. You just…take your time, ok?”

Azzi’s eyes briefly closed when she felt Paige’s lips against her skin. She didn’t argue. That was the part that still made Paige ache sometimes, how trusting it was. How unafraid. Azzi turned her face slightly, brushed her lips to Paige’s jaw in thanks, and stood.

“I’ll be quick,” she said, her voice barely audible. Her eyes locked into Paige’s. “And thank you.”

Paige gave a nod as if it was nothing big even though it was. “Always,” she replied. “Go.”

Azzi disappeared down the hall to the bedroom, and Paige heard the shower being switched on a couple of minutes later, the water rushing just like a curtain being drawn. Paige allowed herself to stand still for a moment in the doorway, with the weight of the bags in her hands and the quiet of their home surrounding her. It was a different kind of quiet from that in the car. This quiet was safe. This quiet was chosen.

Moose gave her calf a nudge with a toy that was already in his mouth, his eyes gleaming, and his body vibrating with purpose.

“Oh, so you wanna play,” Paige said softly, and the dog’s tail went into overdrive as if he understood English.

Paige dumped their bags near the couch and went straight to the sliding door. Moose was very quick. As soon as he saw her hand reaching for the door handle, he lost his last bit of self-control and started spinning in small circles and letting out sharp, excited, barks that bounced off the cabinets.

“Alright, alright,” Paige chuckled as she slid the door open.

Moose bolted into the fenced yard like a bullet, his paws running on the grass in crazy, looping patterns that didn’t make any sense at all. Paige followed him outside, and the warm Minnesota afternoon felt nice on her skin as she closed the door behind her.

The yard wasn’t very big, but it was enough. Enough space for a dog to be completely unhinged. Enough space for Paige to stand still and feel the ground under her feet for the first time in a long time.

She grabbed the ball and threw it hard. Moose took off after it like his life depended on it, paws ripping little tufts of grass, ears flapping, this was pure happiness in motion. Paige looked at him and smiled without realizing it. She leaned on one of the chairs on the patio and let her mind go back to practice.

She felt good today. Not perfect, but sharp. She was seeing the floor well, reading defenders, and making tight passes the way she did when she was locked in. She had gotten the ball to Azzi’s hands exactly where Azzi wanted it. She had done it again and again, trusting the rhythm they were building.

But Azzi had missed more than she made.

That was normal. Shooters go cold. Bodies get heavy. Timing slips. Paige was aware of that. She also knew Azzi didn’t know how to forgive herself for it yet, not easily, not in the moment. Azzi carried her standards like armor and like punishment all at once.

Paige watched Moose run back with the ball and drop it at her feet, panting as if he had won a championship. She crouched down to pet the dog’s head, her fingers plunging into his curls, and let reality sink into her heart.

Azzi was still her shooter.

Paige would pass to her a hundred more times even if she missed all of them today, because Paige knew the difference between a bad practice and a broken trust. And the difference between frustration and failure. She also knew that Azzi had saved her more times than she could count, and not only on the court. ‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌

The‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ sliding door opened behind her a little while later, and a thin strip of indoor air escaped. Paige turned her head and saw Azzi stepping out in an oversized Lynx shirt and soft shorts, her hair damp and curling tighter now that the sweat and frustration had been washed away. Her face still showed that faint shadow of disappointment, but it was less defined, more diffused.

Azzi didn’t say a word when she crossed the patio. She almost immediately went over to Paige like she always did, like gravity had made its decision years ago and never changed its mind. Instead of sitting in the chair next to Paige, she climbed into her lap, positioning herself sideways across her thighs. Her legs hung off one side of the chair, and her arm was wrapped around Paige's neck as if she was the rightful owner, as if she had always been the owner.

Paige’s hands involuntarily went to her, one hand cupping Azzi’s thighs, the other moving down her back. She was holding her so gently. She didn’t ask anything. She just waited.

Azzi leaned down and kissed her slowly and softly. It wasn’t anything frantic. It was slow enough to make Paige feel like warmth was radiating from the inside of her. Azzi’s kisses felt like home, and she had never stopped coming home since the day they made it real.

When Azzi finally pulled back, she kept her forehead close to Paige’s, their breaths mingling.

“Thank you for giving me a minute,” Azzi whispered, her voice huskier than it should have been for such a simple sentence.

Paige’s eyes slowly opened. She looked at her with the kind of patience that she used to believe was impossible for her. “I’ll always give you a minute,” she said. Her thumb gently traced the side of Azzi’s thigh, a sign of support. “I’ll give you whatever space you need.”

Azzi’s eyes darted to the side, like she was looking for something to disagree with, but she didn’t find anything. Instead, she just squeezed Paige’s shoulders with the arm that was wrapped around her. “I hope you know I wasn’t trying to get space from you,” she said, now more vulnerable or exposed. “I just…felt stupid. I felt like I wasted your passes today. Every time you hit me right in the pocket and it didn’t go in, I felt my stomach drop.”

Paige’s jaw tightened, not because she was angry but because she was protective. She gently raised Azzi’s chin so that she would have to meet her gaze. “You didn’t waste anything,” she said in a firm tone. “It was one practice. One day. I’m gonna give you the ball a hundred more times and you’ll score enough that everyone will still remember why they hate defending you.”

Azzi let out a breath that sounded like a reluctant laugh. “You’re so dramatic.”

Paige shamelessly shrugged. “Truth,” she said.

Azzi’s shoulders relaxed a fraction as she leaned into Paige’s chest, eyes drifting out across the yard. The dog was near the fence now, fully committed to a squirrel that did not appear to share his enthusiasm. He barked once, darted left, then right, then nearly face-planted in the grass.

Azzi laughed, small at first, then a little bigger. The sound broke something open in Paige’s chest, something tender and full. Azzi shook her head. “He’s a wrecking ball.”

“He’s our wrecking ball,” Paige said, kissing Azzi’s temple.

Azzi exhaled and then was silent again, but it wasn’t the same silence as earlier. This one felt like settling. Her fingertips were following the seam of Paige’s shirt as if she needed something to keep her hands occupied while her thoughts caught up with her.

“I can’t believe it’s been almost two months since we moved in here,” Azzi whispered.

Paige’s eyes softened. She was looking out at their yard, the fence, their back windows, and how the house held them without demanding anything in return except that they live in it. “It really does feel like a lifetime,” she said, “and it also doesn’t feel like anything at all.”

Azzi’s lips had a slight upward curve. “We’re only a few days away from our first game.”

“I know,” Paige said, and the feeling of pleasure ignited like a match struck from a deep breath and then slowly grew in her chest. “I can barely contain my excitement. The thrill of just playing and seeing everyone. Looking up at the stands and realizing that this is home now and that we’re not living in that in-between version of our lives anymore.”

Azzi hummed in agreement, cheeks pressed against Paige’s collarbone. “My mom keeps sending me messages about the guest room,” she said, laughing caught in her voice so beautifully that Paige got the hint even without seeing her face. “She keeps wanting to know whether we’re really okay with them staying here. She thinks that two days in, we’ll be hating the company so much that we’ll kick them out.”

Paige laughed, the sound vibrating under Azzi’s cheek. “We bought this house because of the extra bedrooms,” she reminded her. “And the in-law suite. That was the whole point.”

Azzi raised her chin a bit as if she were teasing her. “The whole point?”

Paige’s expression softened into something more genuine. No wavering, no resistance, she held Azzi’s gaze. “I didn’t want anyone to miss out,” she said softly. “I wanted them to have a place here. I wanted you to have your people. I wanted my dad and siblings to be able to crash here. I just…wanted everyone who loves us to also feel at home.”

Azzi stared at her for a second, and the emotion in her eyes was so open it almost made Paige look away. Almost. Azzi didn’t let her. She reached up and cupped Paige’s jaw gently, thumb brushing along her cheekbone.

Azzi‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ whispered, “You did that, you made it real,” her voice soft but full of conviction.

Paige tightened her hands that were gripping Azzi's thighs a bit as if to grasp the truth more firmly and nodded with a smile. “No,” she gently shook her head. “It was both of us. You stayed and you worked on yourself. And we decided what we wanted and stopped running from it.”

Her thumb traced a slow circle on Azzi's leg, completely calm and deliberate.

They could’ve kept talking but the doorbell interrupted them. Moose froze mid-chase and barked as if he was doubly offended.

Paige grinned mischievously and slipped her hands up Azzi's sides before giving Azzi's butt a light playful but familiar tap. “Hop up. Go wrangle the menace and I'll get the door.”

Azzi pretended to be offended, but she was smiling as she got down from Paige's lap. “You are obsessed with hitting my ass.”

Paige carefully rose to her feet. “I’m a simple woman,” she said as Azzi rolled her eyes and walked toward the yard.

Paige went inside the house, crossed the entryway, and opened the front door.

Dijonai stood there first, smiling like she owned the place holding a bag that smelled like takeout. Behind her was Phee with two kids in two, Alanna balancing a tray of something covered with foil, and Bridget holding what looked like dessert and a bottle of wine.

Paige couldn't help but smile as she was immediately hit by a warm feeling. “What's this?”

“A celebration,” Dijonai declared like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Training camp is over. We’re all alive. And we figured your house would be the best place to celebrate.”

Phee gave her an elbow nudge as she stepped inside. “And my kids were bored, and they like your dog more than they like me, so…”

“That feels personal,” Paige joked as she stepped aside so everyone could pile into the house, and Bridget laughed as she closed the door behind them.

The house was soon filled with the best kind of noise. The removal of shoes, plates and bags being set down, kids chattering. Dijonai was still talking at a loud volume like she didn't need to save any of her energy.

Paige welcomed the noise. In fact, she loved it. She loved knowing that their home could hold people, laughter, and the kind of life that she used to think she wouldn't get to live.

A second later, the sliding door opened from the back, and Azzi came into the house, with Moose trailing her like a shadow and her cheeks a bit red.

Phee’s daughter, Kaia spotted her instantly.

The expression on the little girl’s face changed dramatically as if someone had just turned on a light. She shouted, “Zee Zee!” And the joy from her voice was so pure that it softened everyone’s hearts, whether they wanted it or not. She took off, arms up, and feet running across the floor.

Azzi’s entire expression changed. It was immediate, like something gentle had been summoned from deep inside her. She scooped Kaia up without hesitation, lifting her into a hug that made the little girl giggle and cling to her like a koala.

“Hey, honey,” Azzi said in a soft voice while kissing the little girl's cheek.

Phee sighed, already resigned. “Kaia baby, you need to let Miss Azzi breathe.”

Kaia was like a koala in a tree, digging in more and more while her little hands were clenched inside the front of Azzi's shirt as she buried her face into Azzi’s neck.

Azzi gave Phee a side glance with a smile on her face and a touch of laughter in her eyes when she misbehaved. “No, way,” she replied jokingly. “This is my girl and I will hold her all night if she asks me too, isn’t that right Kaia?”

Phee raised her eyebrows in a warning manner. “Be careful what you promise, Fudd.”

Paige had been standing in the hallway, watching their whole exchange, and a gentle smile was on her face, which she didn't even try to hide. There was something about the way Azzi held Kaia…natural, caring, and soft. It made Paige’s chest feel tight and full all at once.

Without even realizing what she was doing, she walked across the kitchen and stepped up to them. Shifting her hand around Azzi's waist, careful not to jostle Kaia and then she pressed a gentle kiss to Azzi's temple. Out of pure impulse, she also kissed Kaia’s curls.

“Hey, Miss Kaia,” Paige said with a teasing smile and gave the small girl a gentle tap. “Are you stealing my Zee Zee?”

Kaia giggled, still refusing to let go.

Dijonai made an exaggerated gagging sound as she set the food down on the counter. “God, you two are actually unbearably domestic.”

Azzi was so sure of herself that she didn't even seem to feel embarrassed at the teasing. Holding Kaia more firmly on one hip, she leaned back against Paige's chest without hesitation like it was a completely normal thing.

Azzi gave a short laugh through her nose. “Look,” she said, “you wouldn't have said that to us five years ago.”

The room erupted in laughter.

Paige huffed out a quiet protest into her hair. “That’s dramatic.”

“It's true, though,” Azzi said with a smile.

Paige’s arms tightened around both of them for a second longer before she finally loosened her grip. Azzi shifted Kaia higher on her hip and gently untangled herself, stepping out of Paige’s embrace. But before she walked away, she turned back, leaned in without hesitation, and pressed a quick, easy kiss to Paige’s mouth.

It wasn’t showy. It wasn’t for the room.

It was habit. It was instinct.

Then she moved toward the kitchen where Phee was setting containers down on the counter, Kaia still attached to her like a koala.

Paige didn’t follow right away.

She just stood there for a moment and let herself watch Azzi walking around their place with a child on her hip and the sun shining on her hair. Watching the way she fit into the space like she had always belonged there. Watching the version of her that had once felt impossible now look entirely certain.

Dijonai‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ saw it right away. Of course she did, because Dijonai saw everything.

She smiled like she was winding up for her favorite hobby, which was making Paige uncomfortable.

“It’s a good thing you can’t get her pregnant,” she said, nodding toward Azzi and Kaia like she was presenting evidence in court, “because you woulda knocked her up five times by now with the way you looking at her.”

Paige’s face remained stoic only for a moment, which was all the warning anyone got before she whispered, quiet but clear, “Not for lack of trying.”

Bridget laughed so hard she almost choked. Alanna let out a high-pitched scream and hit the counter. Dijonai doubled over and then had to lift her hand to high five Paige at her quality response.

Phee turned her eyes slightly away and Paige thought she might never see them again. “You’re both disgusting,” Phee said, but she was barely able to resist smiling, while putting the food out on trays, “And I hate that I’m happy for you.”

Azzi’s face snapped up, her eyes were wide open. “Paige,” she whispered, her cheeks turning red, but she was still holding Kaia like she was her own.

Paige shrugged, unconcerned. “She started it.”

“I did,” Dijonai bragged. “And I will continue.”

Then Mila gently tugged on Paige’s sleeve, looking at her with simple honesty.

Paige bent a little forward, her face became tender immediately. “Yeah, Mila?”

“Can I play your PlayStation?” Mila asked as if it was the most important question in the world.

Paige grinned. “Of course. I’ll set it up in just two seconds.”

As Paige moved toward the living room, she caught Azzi’s gaze over Kaia’s head. Azzi’s eyes were warm now, that earlier frustration from practice softened into something tender, something calmer. Paige could still see the remnants of it, but it no longer looked like it was eating Azzi alive. It looked manageable. It looked like something they could carry together.

Paige handed the controller to Mila and loosely explained the most basic rules of the game as if she was twenty years younger. She listened to the delighted squeal that was bursting out of Mila when the game finally loaded.

Behind her, the kitchen was crowded with people. The food got taken out of the wrapping. Laughter rising and falling. Azzi said something sweet to Kaia who was still disobeying Phee’s new attempt at letting Azzi go.

Dijonai rested against the counter and watched both of them as if she was witnessing a documentary she had been waiting seven years to see. “I can’t even believe this,” she whispered. “All those years of you two being idiots and now here we are in your house.”

Azzi raised one eyebrow. “We weren’t dumb.”

Dijonai gave a loud laugh. “You were definitely dumb. And I have the proof.”

Paige stepped into the kitchen with Moose at her heels, and wrapped one arm back around Azzi’s waist absent-mindedly. It was the most natural thing for her to do. Azzi responded the same way, as if she had always known that this was her home. In Paige’s arms.

“What proof?” Paige asked, skeptical.

Dijonai grinned. “I’m just saying, there were multiple occasions where I watched you two pretend you weren’t in love, and I wanted to bang my head against a wall.”

Azzi’s face got red again but she didn’t deny it this time. She just kissed Kaia’s head and said, “We got here.”

Paige held Azzi tighter and her lips touched Azzi’s ear as she whispered, “We did.”

And in that simple exchange, in the easy way their bodies stayed connected while the house filled with teammates and kids and noise, Paige felt the whole arc of their story settle in her bones. Not as a dramatic conclusion, not as a fireworks moment, but as something steadier.

This was what it meant to be chosen when the world was quiet.

This was what it meant to come home and know you wouldn’t have to leave again.

The night gently unfolded after that. There was food and more laughter from stories shared, kids running through the living room, the dog chasing them as if he were one of them. Paige and Azzi moved around each other like a practiced rhythm, always touching each other in little ways, always checking each other without even asking. One hand on the lower back. Fingers that were gently brushing the hip. Looks that were saying I see you. Smiles that were saying I’m still here.

And when Azzi saw Paige catching her eyes again, full and closed and soft in such a way that Paige probably would have been ashamed of before, Azzi leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Stop looking at me like that.”

Paige’s smile was slow and unapologetic. “I can’t,” she whispered back. “I moved here. I bought a house. I got a dog. I’m committed to being unbearable for the rest of your life.”

Azzi’s laugh was quiet and genuine, and she put her forehead against Paige’s for a moment, right there in the middle of the kitchen with their friends all around.

“Good,” she whispered. “Because I love you more than anything.”

And this time Paige believed her, not as a hope, not as a fragile wish, but as a truth that was living in the walls of their house, in the dog’s wild joy, in the warm chaos of the teammates and family and the life that they were building without needing to say it out loud.

—

Game‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ day was finally here, which of course meant that it was also their first home opener together. Paige had been awake long enough to see the colors change in the sky from gray to blue before she carefully eased herself out from under Azzi’s arm.

Azzi had been wrapped around her like she always was now. One leg was hooked over Paige’s thigh, face tucked against her shoulder, small sleepy sounds drifting from her mouth every time Paige shifted. At one point she had mumbled something incoherent against Paige’s collarbone and tightened her grip, as if even in sleep she needed to make sure Paige was still there.

Paige smiled into the darkness.

She could’ve woken her. It was game day. Their very first Lynx home opener as a couple. There were routines to follow, checklists to move through, and nerves to manage.

But Azzi looked too peaceful.

Her curls were disheveled on the pillow, eyelashes gently resting on her cheeks and the rhythm of her breath was so deep and even that it literally made Paige’s heart hurt. She ran her thumb over Azzi’s hip so lightly that she wouldn’t even feel it and thought to herself, only five more minutes. She deserves five more minutes.

So she slipped from the bed carefully, moving like someone defusing a bomb, and padded into the bathroom.

The shower was already running when she heard the faint creak of the bedroom door and the shuffle of bare feet on hardwood.

Azzi.

Paige grinned to herself and faced the shower, letting the warmth of the water gradually wake her up. Soon she heard the sound of the toilet seat being lifted, the gentle flushing, and then Azzi’s voice sleepy and raspy but still affectionate.

“Morning.”

Paige pushed the wet hair out of her face and leaned a bit toward the glass door. “Morning, love. Did you sleep okay?”

There was the sound of the sink turning on, water rushing, and then Azzi’s soft exhale. “Of course,” she answered. “Because you were there.”

Paige felt the words more deeply than the water ever could.

She rinsed the last bit of shampoo out of her hair, but as soon as she opened her eyes, Azzi was standing right there on the other side of the glass, leaning against the countertop like she had been waiting the whole time.

Paige quietly chuckled and slid the door open just enough for her head to come out, the water still dripping down her neck.

Azzi just stared and smiled before she raised her chin and gave a slight nod.

It was routine now. Muscle memory. As essential as brushing their teeth.

Paige bent down and kissed her lips, slow and full of intention, her mouth tasting of toothpaste and sleep and something else familiar that felt like home. Azzi’s hand came up to cup the side of Paige’s jaw, thumb brushing along her cheekbone before she pulled back, satisfied.

“Okay,” Azzi whispered, her mouth having that playful smile. “Now I can start the day.”

Paige shook her head, amused. “I’m almost done. Give me like three minutes.”

Azzi nodded and wandered back toward the bedroom, still half-asleep but steady. Paige finished quickly, her thoughts already moving toward the game…the arena, the noise, the media storm waiting to descend.

Wrapped only in a towel, Paige came out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where Azzi was reclining against the headboard of their bed, holding her phone and scrolling absently. Her hair was still messy from sleep and Moose was laying curled at her feet like he had never left the bed.

Paige walked to the closet, opening drawers and looking through clothes. “Do you want to eat here,” she shouted, “or we can wait until we get to shootaround?”

Azzi hummed noncommittedly. “I guess we could have something light here. I’m not really hungry yet.”

“How about eggs? Or are you more in the mood for bagels?”

“Eggs sound good,” Azzi replied, glancing still at her phone.

Paige picked up a hoodie and a pair of shorts and threw them on the bed. “And do you want to leave the house around nine-thirty or do you think that’s too late?”

There‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ was no answer.

Paige poked her head halfway out of the closet, her brow furrowed. “Babe? Did you hear me?”

Azzi had stopped moving completely.

Her phone was still in her hand, but her thumb was no longer moving. Her eyes were staring at the screen, unfocused, as if she had gone somewhere else in her mind.

Paige instantly got a feeling in her chest that something had shifted.

She quickly pulled her shorts on and went over the bed, sitting on the edge next to Azzi. She instinctively reached up and her hand settled on the side of Azzi's neck, her thumb softly running beneath her ear.

“Baby,” she whispered, her voice full of concern.

Azzi blinked once, like she had just remembered where she was. She shook her head faintly and then looked up, and the second she saw the worry in Paige’s eyes, her expression softened.’

She put one of her hands on top of Paige's and gently squeezed it. “Sorry, she breathed. “I’m fine. I just...I was scrolling and this came up.”

She turned the phone around to Paige.

Paige grabbed it without hesitation.

The image filled the screen. Emma smiling, hand raised to the camera, a ring sparkling. There was another woman standing next to her with her arm wrapped around her waist. The caption was full of exclamation marks of promises and forever.

Paige felt the jolt before she could control it. Not anger. Not jealousy. Just a sharp awareness of history, chapters closed, and what used to be complicated and messy and painful.

Without a word, she put the phone screen down on the bed and turned to look at Azzi.

Azzi was already giving a slight shake of her head. "It's not...I’m not upset like that," she stated quickly as she saw the concern before Paige even expressed it verbally. “I’m not jealous. I don’t want that life back. It just surprised me, that’s all.”

She slowly breathed out, and for a second, her eyes wandered to the window.

Her fingers tightened slightly over Paige’s, grounding herself before she spoke. “Seeing her happy…it’s strange, but it’s relieving too,” she admitted. “That chapter of my life with her mattered, because it changed me. I had to go through that to understand what I actually wanted, or who I wanted to be.”

She looked at their hands first and then back at Paige. “But If I hadn't screwed up and done the work or figured myself out the hard way, we probably wouldn't be here like this now.”

Paige listened without interrupting, studying Azzi's face. There was no longing there. No regret. Just clarity

“You’re here because you chose to be,” Paige whispered. “And because you chose to grow. Not because you screwed up.”

Azzi smiled gently, confidently, “It wasn't about making a mistake,” she said. “It was about learning. I needed that time to become the person who could actually show up for you.”

Paige's thumb slid over her knuckles. “And I had to stop holding onto a version of you that wasn’t ready yet.”

Azzi didn’t look away. “But now I am.”

Paige studied her face, searching for cracks. For the spiral she used to know so well. She didn’t find anything.

“Are you really okay?” Paige asked anyway. She didn’t sugarcoat the question. She didn’t hide her fear. “If you need a minute, we can take it. We don’t have to rush. I don’t want this eating at you all day.”

Azzi’s eyes warmed at that. She leaned forward and kissed Paige, deeper this time, grounding and certain. When she pulled back, her forehead rested against Paige’s.

“I’m okay,” she said confidently. “I promise. That was a different version of me. I’m not her anymore and I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Paige searched her one last time.

Then she nodded.

She stood up and held out her hands. Azzi took them and let Paige guide her to stand. For a moment, Azzi turned to the bathroom ready to shower.

But Paige reached out and grabbed her waist.

Azzi looked back, lifting her eyebrows in question, but before she could say a word, Paige wrapped both arms around her neck and pulled her in close.

Azzi melted into it instantly, her arms sliding around Paige’s waist, hands drifting up her spine in a slow, soothing path. Paige closed her eyes and breathed her in.

“I just needed a hug,” Paige admitted softly against her shoulder.

Azzi squeezed her a little tighter. “Me too,” she said.

They stayed like that for a long moment, morning light stretching across the floor, the house quiet around them, the weight of the past acknowledged but no longer heavy.

Game day waited.

The world would be loud soon.

But right now, in the stillness of their bedroom, it was just them.

And that was enough.

—

The sold-out sign had been posted on the arena for days now, but the reality of it only sunk in for Paige when she turned off the engine and they both, in silence, just sat there for a moment in the players' lot.

They could hear it already.

Even with the windows and doors of the car closed, the noise carried all the way to the back entrance that was hidden from the public. The excitement from fans vibrated in the air and they could feel it through the concrete beneath their feet when they stepped out of the car.

There was still quite a bit of time before tip off, but Target Center had already come alive. That kind of roar that didn’t belong to one moment, but to thousands of people arriving with the same anticipation.

Azzi re-adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder, her expression remaining calm in the way she had learned to make when cameras were near. Paige noticed the slight flex of her jaw tightening and the inhale that steadied her before she closed the car door. Without speaking, Paige reached across the space between them and bumped her knuckles lightly against Azzi’s hand.

Azzi’s fingers curled briefly around Paige’s in response.

They walked through the loading dock, hand-in-hand, without being seen by the public. And even in the summer, the crisp Minnesota air lingered on their skin, a coolness that always kept Paige more awake than she wanted to be. As soon as the doors opened and let them inside the warmth of the arena, the change was instant.

Above were familiar bright lights and the scent of popcorn and floor cleaner surrounded them. Security radios crackled at every turn, and further down the hallway, reporters in suits and station-branded jackets were standing together and their eyes were scanning, waiting for a glimpse of something headline-worthy.

It was chaos, even in controlled spaces.

Paige kept her face neutral because she had learned how to do that a long time ago. She had learned how to walk through noise without flinching, even when the noise carried her name. But she still felt it, the weight of expectation pressing against her skin as she moved down the corridor with her backpack slung over one shoulder and her headphones resting loose around her neck.

Azzi’s arm brushed hers as they turned the corner toward the locker room. Not accidental. Anchoring.

This wasn’t just a home opener.

It wasn’t just the first time they would wear these jerseys together on this floor.

This was an arrival.

And they were walking into it side by side.

They caught pieces of sound as they passed an open media area. A commentator's voice came over a monitor, smooth and lively, the kind of voice that broadcasters use when they feel like they’re going to be part of something historic.

“College teammates reunited,” the voice said, and Paige heard her name right after that, linked with Azzi's as if it belonged there now. ‘Years of speculation,” said the voice, and the words made Paige's jaw tense naturally before she forced herself to let go of the feeling. “And now officially teammates again.”

Paige didn’t look back, she didn’t need to. She could feel the gaze of the cameras even if she couldn’t see them. She could feel the way people's attention followed her like a shadow. She let it. She kept walking. She had spent too much of her life being looked at to pretend it would ever stop.

The difference now was that she wasn’t walking through it alone.

Azzi was a few steps ahead, moving with that familiar quiet confidence that looked effortless until you understood how hard she had worked to become this version of herself. Her braids swung against the back of her warm-up top as she nodded at a staffer, exchanged a quick word with someone Paige didn’t recognize fully yet, and kept going like she belonged to every inch of this building.

Paige watched her for half a second longer than necessary, the way her shoulders sat looser than they had earlier that morning, the way she carried herself like her own skin was finally a safe place to live.

Paige's‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ chest eased, but not completely. It never really did on days like this. But it was just enough that she could actually take a deep breath.

When they arrived at the tunnel entrance, the noise from the court hit them. Sneakers squeaking. Music thumping. The echo of a crowd that was still filling in but already loud, already hungry. Paige came out and looked up to the stands out of habit, scanning for familiar faces even though she had been trying not to think about it all day.

She saw them right away.

Katie, seated next to Tim, was wiping away tears, while Jon and Jose looked visibly emotional even though they would never admit it. A few seats away, Bob and Drew were standing by, recording everything like this were history happening in real time. One row up, Paige’s mom Amy, and her siblings, Ryan and Lauren, sat leaning forward with dedicated attention.

And then a few seats further down, Papa waved his ludicrous half-Paige, half-Azzi flag with full confidence, as if he had been waiting an entire lifetime for this single moment.

Paige’s throat tightened as she looked around the crowd. She took a deep breath and held it before lowering her shoulders. She would deal with the emotion later. She always did.

And then she spotted him.

Geno was seated further back, not attracting more attention than necessary, which somehow just made the sight of him even heavier. He had worn the same look on his face every time he watched them play: attentive, vigilant, and silently proud, as if he were analyzing the court the way one would analyze a foreign language. He wasn’t smiling but his face lit up a little when Azzi hit a midrange jumper during warmups and Paige noticed it, that little nod of approval which said so much without a ‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌word.

Paige‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ felt Azzi brush past her, and the closeness of it pulled her out of the stands and back into her own body.

Warmups moved along like they usually did. Lines. Layups. Jump shots. Simple things kept repeating until they became a reliable rhythm. Paige moved on autopilot, allowing her body to take charge while her mind wandered through the rest of the day, the morning that had seemed gentle at first and ended up being more harsh than she had expected.

She had not forgotten the way Azzi had gone quiet with her phone in her hand. She had not forgotten the flash of fear that had lit up inside her when Azzi’s expression changed, the instinctive panic that always wanted to assume the worst.

Paige hated that side of herself, the one that could so easily spiral if given the chance, and yet she also understood now that she no longer had to pretend it wasn’t there. Love hadn’t erased her fears. It just taught her how to handle them.

So Paige kept an eye on Azzi without staring. She listened with her body. She looked for little signs that only she would pick up on. Azzi had relaxed her shoulders. Her jaw was no longer clenched. Her feet were light. She was engaged in a conversation with a teammate and actually laughing for a second with her head thrown back as if she really meant it.

Paige allowed herself to trust that.

There was a stretch of warmups where the whole world around them was nothing but a blur of voices. People leaning forward. Fans shouting their names from the front rows. A little girl holding a sign that had “PAIGE + AZZI” inside a bunch of hearts painted on it. The music changing to something louder. The announcer practicing his introductions.

Paige took a shot from the elbow, and the ball dropped clean through the net, and the swish sounded like a promise. When she turned to jog back, she noticed Azzi was moving towards midcourt too.

They met at the half-court logo without planning it, two paths crossing as they always had, like the court itself had a memory of them. For a moment, they both slowed down. Just a little, a beat, a pause that felt like the world was taking a deep breath.

Azzi was the first to raise her hand. Paige’s palm met it with a gentle tap.

Their hands remained connected for a little while, sliding only a bit, the tiniest grip at the knuckles before they let go again. It would’ve gone unnoticed by anyone who didn’t know their silent language. Paige held Azzi’s gaze for a moment longer than she meant to, and she didn’t have to say the question out loud.

Are you okay?

Azzi’s gaze held steady. There was no flinch in it, no shadow of the earlier surprise lingering behind her eyes. She looked grounded. Present. Almost amused by Paige’s worry, but not in a cruel way. More like she loved that Paige cared, even when Paige tried to hide it behind that stoic face.

Azzi’s lips turned up in a smile, the hint of a smirk that only Paige ever seemed to earn. Her face was saying, without words, I’m here. I’m good. I’m staying.

Paige felt herself breathe out slowly. She gave Azzi a little nod, like she was accepting a report from someone she trusted more than herself. Then Paige’s gaze dropped to Azzi’s hands, to the steadiness in her poster, and Paige’s expression turned into something different.

Are you ready?

Azzi’s smirk got wider. She slightly raised her chin like she was offended that Paige even asked, and her eyes lit up with that familiar spark, the competitive spirit that was always hidden beneath her gentleness.

Always.

Paige barely smiled, but her lips curved slightly, and she looked away as if she were going back to work.

She heard the crowd reaction anyway.

It started off slowly. A wave of sound, and then a louder wave when people that were closest to the court realized that what they had just witnessed was not quite what they had expected. It wasn’t a kiss or a romantic display. Not even a celebration.

It was a check-in.

It was a language.

The fans stood up. One fan yelled Azzi’s name in a chant. Someone else shouted Paige’s name. Phones were raised even higher. Even the commentators, who were audible through the speakers, sounded a bit surprised as if, instead of the expected basketball, they had been given something older and deeper than a game.

Paige looked at Phee who was watching them from close to the free throw line, her face was calm but alert like she was clocking the moment and storing it. Phee raised her eyebrows at Paige just slightly as if to say, Well.

Paige shook her head once, so small that it was hardly visible, like she was reminding herself to concentrate. Then she dribbled towards the top of the key and took a shot. The ball passed through the net with a snap. The sound was clean. Confident.

She turned around to find Azzi ready on the wing, already in motion and just where Paige expected her to be.

The whole arena seemed to be holding its breath.

And Paige, who was standing among the noise with her heart slowly getting back to its normal rhythm, understood one thing that made her hold the ball tighter.

For the very first time in a long time, she didn’t feel the need to demonstrate that this was the right decision.

She felt like she was allowed to live ‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌it.

—

There‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ is a certain type of quiet that exists inside loud arenas, a kind that only lives on the floor between five players who understand that the first possession sets the tone. Paige felt it settle over her shoulders as she took the ball near the top of the court. The crowd was still roaring, and her vision narrowed until it was only the jerseys, the movement, and the space.

She didn’t force anything.

She dribbled towards the center of the floor, and she drew the defense towards her with a quiet control. Two defenders stepped into her path, but she didn’t try to force a split. She allowed them to commit first. Then she passed the ball to Phee, who cut at the perfect time and had softly finished the ball off the glass.

A wave of applause was heard from the crowd.

But it wasn’t the big event that everyone was waiting for.

That one was still waiting.

On the next play, Paige brought the ball down the court and slowed near the top of the arc, her eyes scanning while Azzi moved around the perimeter with quiet patience. In that moment the crowd felt different…leaning forward, holding its breath.

It wasn’t just about that singular possession. It was about seeing them together, finally, in this place. Seeing if the chemistry that had been spoken about for years would look the way they had imagined.

Paige passed the ball to Azzi.

It was simple. Direct. No theatrics.

Azzi caught it perfectly and with that familiar, fluid motion, she shot before anything else around her seemed rushed.

The ball hit the back of the rim and bounced out.

A quiet wave went through the crowd. It wasn’t disappointment, but more surprise. As if thousands of people had expected perfection right away and were gently reminded that basketball does not care about storylines.

Five years ago, a miss like that might have lingered. There had been nights when one bad start had turned a whole game into something heavier. There had been days not so long ago when a string of missed passes tightened Azzi’s shoulders.

Now she didn’t hesitate.

She turned around and ran back on defense with hands up, eyes alert and chin down. Paige crossed her path for half a second and brushed her hip lightly as they switched assignments.

“Next one,” Paige whispered. It wasn’t a pep talk or praise, it was certainty.

Azzi didn’t need reassurance. What she really needed was that even and steady voice, and the absolute faith that the next shot was already there.

A few possessions later, Paige again drove toward the basket drawing the defense like magnets. In a moment of panic, she didn’t need to look for Azzi. She knew exactly where she was. The pass left her hands almost casually, arcing back toward the perimeter.

Azzi was already there, sliding into the space that was left with quiet intention.

She caught the ball and released it without a second thought.

And this time? The net snapped cleanly.

The arena finally erupted, but Paige didn’t pump her fist or shout. She simply met Azzi’s eyes for a fraction of a second and gave a small nod before turning to run back down the floor.

After that, the Lynx gained momentum. Paige pushed the pace when it felt right and pulled it back when it didn’t. Phee anchored the middle, moving like she was stitched into the floor. The Sparks tried to crowd the ball, to make someone else beat them, but someone else was always there.

Midway through the second quarter, Paige drove hard along the baseline, riding that thin line like an acrobat. The defender slid late and caught her tightly with the shoulder, just enough to knock her off balance. Her body, for just a second, tilted forward as gravity was taking over her.

The crowd gasped.

There was no hint of panic in Paige’s face. She didn’t even seem fazed.

As she was mid-fall, she flung the ball behind her without turning her head. The smooth motion would’ve been considered reckless to anyone who’s name was not Paige Bueckers.

But this was not reckless.

Azzi was already sprinting into the spot beyond the arc, reading the collapse before it even formed. The pass found her hands exactly where they were meant to be. She didn’t pause to gather herself or check her feet. She rose in one fluid motion and let it fly.

Swish.

For‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ a moment, the arena barely seemed able to take in what they’d just witnessed. Then, suddenly, the roar broke out. It was a deep sound that barrelled through and soared up until it seemed like the roof might be lifted.

Paige went down on the floor and slid a little on her hip before pushing herself up. Azzi jogged over immediately and offered her hand. Paige grabbed it and Azzi pulled her upright and gave her a quick pat on the back of her shorts.

The rest of the first half unfolded like something tightening into shape. The Sparks tried to adjust, sending help defenders earlier, trying to clog the middle. But that only created space somewhere else.

When the paint opened, Paige found Phee. When help came, Phee found Azzi. When the defense overcorrected, Azzi swung it back. The ball was flying faster than the noise, and when the buzzer sounded for halftime, Minnesota's lead felt bigger than the numbers on the scoreboard.

In the tunnel, with sweat drying on her skin, Paige sensed the change in energy from anticipation to acknowledgment. This wasn’t just hype anymore. It was proof in process.

When they were heading back for the second half, Cam Brink passed them around midcourt shaking her head with a half-smile that showed both admiration and a little disbelief.

“I knew you two would be dangerous,” she said, her voice casual but genuine. “But this is different.”

Paige gave a shrug as if she did not want to acknowledge it, but a glimpse of pride showed in her eyes. Azzi smiled and gave her a bump with her shoulder as they took their places.

Different was the point.

The third quarter resumed with the same calm control. The Sparks limited Azzi's space even more, guarding her closely on the catch, trying to make her hesitate. For a few possessions, the shots didn’t go in as they had earlier. One shot hit the back rim and bounced up. Another rolled around the rim and then went out.

The crowd quieted down just a little.

The old Azzi might’ve taken that quiet as pressure. She might’ve started thinking instead of moving, second-guessing the space, the angle, the timing.

This version of her did not.

On the next trip down the floor, Azzi didn’t linger in the same place where she missed before. She drifted a couple of steps along the perimeter, making it look like a normal adjustment. Paige didn’t miss it at all. She hit the gas toward the free-throw line, forcing the defense to come in on her and then with a precise sharp pass, she threw the ball out.

Azzi caught it in rhythm with her feet already set before the defender could recover. She rose smoothly, shoulders squared, and release clean.

The ball swished the net with a sharp and satisfying sound.

For a moment, the sound seemed louder than the crowd itself.

And this time, Paige wasn’t pretending to be calm.

She turned around to Azzi as she went backward, long before she could stop a smile from breaking over her face. Her fist pumped once, fast and fierce, and then she pointed at Azzi as if she had just proved something to the entire building. “That’s my shooter!” she yelled, but her voice was drowned by the roar, yet its intention was unmistakable.

There was no holding back the pride in her face, either.

Azzi tried to jog back the way she always did, calm and steady, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her. She shook her head in disapproval, like Paige was crazy, but then their eyes met, and her grin grew wide just enough to expose her. As they crossed paths, she reached out and bumped Paige, a small silent gesture of how much she felt that too.

Next possession, Paige spotted her again. And again.

When the fifth shot went in, Paige was up with her hands, pumping as she ran back on defense, shouting something only Azzi could hear. It was never about proving the haters wrong or silencing those who talk. It was about the sheer and undeniable happiness of playing alongside someone who got her without words.

Azzi, who had quietly been dominating the game, finally let the moment get to her. After the fifth shot, she let out a brief exhale of laughter, her head tilting back while she ran. When she came up next to Paige on an inbound play, she grabbed her hand for a moment and gave a little squeeze before letting go. The small gesture was packed with meaning.

The crowd fed off it, the noise swelling into something that felt less like anticipation and more like confirmation.

This was not luck. It was not a hot streak.

It was trust made visible.

And Paige didn’t hide how much she loved being inside it.

When‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ the fourth quarter was winding down, the rhythm between them felt less like a strategy and more like a cheat code. Paige would attack the basket whenever there was an opening. Azzi would space the floor like she had drawn it herself. Phee punished the paint whenever the defense would overcommit to the perimeter. If one of them was closely guarded, the other was free. If two were covered, the third one went unnoticed. It was not chaos. It was design.

The commentators were almost unable to keep it in.

“They’re not just scoring,” one of them uttered while Paige was passing the ball again through the defenders. “They’re actually reading each other's minds in real-time. You cannot teach that kind of connection.”

“And when you add Collier to the mix,” the other responded, “there is absolutely no safe option defensively. You remove one, another appears instantly.”

The last minutes of the game seemed inevitable. Paige grabbed a defensive rebound and pushed the ball up the floor herself. Azzi filled the wing. Phee trailed the play. The defense scrambled, and the ball found the right hands again.

When the final buzzer sounded, the scoreboard told a clear story.

Minnesota had won comfortably. Paige and Azzi both finished with double-doubles, their stat lines reflecting not just scoring, but passing, rebounding, and full on court presence. It was the kind of performance that analysts would dissect and fans would replay on social media for days.

But the numbers were not what lingered.

What lingered was the way they moved.

The way Paige never hesitated to throw a pass she believed Azzi would catch.

The way Azzi never doubted the ball would find her again.

Paige felt the noise rising again, the chants swelling from opposite ends of the arena until they blurred together. She glanced toward the stands and saw her parents on their feet, Katie crying openly now, Papa waving that ridiculous flag like he was trying to signal a plane.

In the middle of it all, she found Azzi once more.

For a second, they were just there, side by side, catching their breath and letting their sweat cool on their skins, the reality of the win settling in.

As they were about to leave the court, a staff member quickly leaned in and shouted with a voice barely audible over the noise. “You two are up for media.”

Paige let out a soft breath that was half laugh, half disbelief. Of course they were.

Azzi casually bumped her shoulder. “You ready?” she asked, her tone steady but warm, the same tone she had used at half court before the game.

Paige looked at her, a small smile playing on her lips. “Always.”

They vanished down the tunnel together, the arena's sound following them like a promise. The bright lights gave way to the cooler hallway, the echo of sneakers on concrete replacing the roar of the crowd. For a brief second before the media room doors opened and the next wave of noise began, Paige reached down and let her fingers brush Azzi’s.

The room brightened when they stepped in. Cameras started flashing pretty much all at once, a tiny murmur amongst the reporters was heard as they sat down at the table facing them. The first few questions stayed relatively non-controversial.

Statistics. Tempo. Defensive strategies. Phee’s influence. Paige answered simply, explaining their reads and spacing in plain language. Azzi talked about rhythm and movement, about how the ball had energy when it moved the right way. They were comfortable, even laughing.

But it didn’t take long for the shift.

A reporter in the second row leaned slightly forward. “You two have a very long history together,” she said slowly. “How does it feel playing here in Minnesota together with all the attention?”

There it was.

Not accusing. Not interrogating. Just wondering.

Azzi didn’t stiffen up. She casually placed her hands on her lap and looked at Paige for half a second before she turned her gaze back to the room.

“We’ve known each other a long time,” she said evenly. Her voice carried without strain. “We’ve been teammates before. We’ve been…a lot of things before.” A small ripple of knowing laughter moved through the room, but she didn’t let it derail her. “And we’ve both grown a lot. I think when you stick by someone through every version of yourselves, you learn what’s real. You learn how to trust what you’re building.”

There was no edge in her voice. No need to defend it.

It simply was.

Another reporter quickly followed up. "So, was this always the plan? For you both to play here together?”

Paige leaned slightly toward her microphone. She didn’t rush her answer. ‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌

“I‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ really don’t think that’s how life works,” she replied. “There wasn’t some master blueprint.”

There were a few small laughs.

“The decision to play in Minnesota was about basketball. This team, this organization, the way we fit on the floor. That part was important.” She stopped for a moment, her fingers lightly rubbing the edge of the table. Then, with a softer voice but still perfect assurance, she continued.

“But it was also about choosing the life I wanted. And I didn’t want to build that life somewhere else.”

The room went still in a way that had nothing to do with silence and everything to do with impact.

A third reporter cleared his throat. “Did your relationship impact the decision?”

This time there was no visible reaction. No sidestepping.

Azzi’s lips formed a slight smile, not playful but just firm. We don’t make basketball decisions in a vacuum,” she said. “We’re human. Of course our relationship matters. But it doesn’t override everything else. It just… aligns with it.”

Another reporter made an attempt, kindly. “There was a lot of attention on the two of you over the years.”

Paige's face remained expressionless. “There’s always some noise,” she replied. “We just decided to stop letting it make decisions for us.”

Azzi was about to grab her water bottle but before that, her hand slightly brushed Paige’s on the table. It was very subtle. Not a show. Just contact.

Their message came without words.

They were a couple and they weren’t hiding that fact. But they weren’t showing it off to the world, they were just choosing it.

A final question drifted through about expectations for the season, about whether tonight felt like validation.

Paige slightly reclined in her seat. “Tonight felt like a starting point,” she acknowledged. “Not proof. Just the beginning.”

Azzi agreed as she said. “We’re still in the process of building.”

No dramatic declarations. No grand speeches about destiny.

Just calm certainty.

When the session ended and the microphones turned off, both of them stood simultaneously. Paige allowed Azzi to move forward through the door first, her hand gently caressing her back as they came out to the empty hallway.

—

The‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ hall noise gradually faded as they brushed past the locker room doors, the energy shifting immediately from public performance to something quieter and familiar. Teammates had been scattered throughout the room, in the different stages of undressing and of going through the aftermath of a game. The team’s earlier intensity was now softening into tired laughing and low talking.

Paige dropped down into the chair in front of her locker and released the air she had held in almost all night. Sweat cooled against her skin as she reached up to tug her jersey over her head, the fabric catching briefly on her shoulders before falling away.

Across from her, Azzi took off her shoes with a slow and firm step, not rushing, as if she was deliberately letting her body settle again.

At first, neither of them said anything. They didn’t need to narrate what had just happened. It hung between them as something heavy and real, something they had earned by their efforts.

Eventually, they put on sweat and fresh shirts, trading their game uniforms for something softer. Paige towel-dried her hair and pulled it up into her infamous bun and looked over, meeting Azzi’s eye in the mirror. The look they exchanged was quieter than anything on the court, but just as full.

Their families were waiting near the edge of the court, corralled by arena staff who clearly understood this was not just another postgame meet-and-greet.

Bob hugged Paige again as if the first time had not been enough. Katie kissed Azzi’s cheek and then Paige’s, her hands lingering like she was memorizing the shape of this night. Papa draped his ridiculous flag over both of their shoulders for at least three separate photos, insisting that one be “for the house” and another “for history.”

Drew filmed. Amy wiped her eyes discreetly. Jon and Jose pretended they were not emotional and failed.

There were photos taken under the bright lights with so much smiling that their cheeks got sore.

Eventually, though, families have flights to catch and long drives ahead. One by one, the hugs stretched into goodbyes. Promises were made about dinners and spare bedrooms and the next home stand.

And then the court began to empty.

Staff moved around silently in the background, sweeping, stacking, and resetting the world for tomorrow. There were no longer fans in the seats. The echo had become a hollow and calm sound. Lights were still shining from above, but there was no crowd noise that made them feel blinding and intimate.

Paige and Azzi lingered near the sideline, neither in a hurry to leave.

Azzi moved her hand slightly and entwined her fingers with Paige’s. The touch was so natural, more like a comforting habit than a gesture for show. Paige looked down at their joined hands for a moment then out to the empty and shadowy seats.

“Come here,” Azzi whispered as she pulled Paige’s hand, tugging her and moving them towards center court.

They walked together across the hardwood, their footsteps the only sound that truly belonged to them. The Lynx logo stretched beneath their feet when they reached midcourt, the paint still faintly slick from where it had been wiped down after the game. Paige stopped there, her thumb brushing back and forth over Azzi’s knuckles, and slowly turned in a full circle.

Without the crowd, the space felt larger. More honest.

A few staff members lingered in the stands, but no one bothered them. It felt almost sacred in its stillness, like the building itself understood this was not a moment to rush.

Paige’s eyes stayed on the empty seats for a while. She could still see her dad’s hands held high, Drew’s phone lifted in the air, and the tears of Katie. She swallowed against the tightness in her throat and exhaled slowly, the breath leaving her chest like something heavy finally set down.

“I used to imagine this,” she confessed in a determined voice. “Playing here. Winning here. But I don’t think I ever imagined it like this.”

Azzi watched her carefully, the faintest smile touching her mouth. “Like what?”

Paige faced her fully. The reflection of the overhead lighting shimmered in Azzi’s eyes and for a moment, Paige saw the layers of the different versions of her. The college student who fell in love too quickly. The girl who ran away. The one who had come back. The one who had stayed.

“Kind‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ of like feeling…settled,” Paige said after a while. “Not chaotic. Not like we’re chasing something. It just feels right.”

Azzi’s grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to anchor. She took a step closer, closing the space between them until their shoulders brushed and their hips aligned naturally, as if the court had always been built with that distance in mind.

“It wasn’t easy,” Azzi said after a moment. Her voice did not waver. “None of it was.”

Paige nodded. Both of them knew without having to list the things. The missed calls. The bad timing. The silence that had once been too long. The versions of themselves that they had outgrown and the damage they had done while trying to figure it out.

“It wasn’t supposed to be,” Paige replied. “I think that’s the point.”

Azzi’s lips twitched slightly. She tilted her head back and looked up at the rafters where banners hung like reminders of past seasons, past teams, past promises kept.

“We didn’t just end up here,” she said quietly. “We had to change to get here.”

Paige felt that settle into her chest. That was the truth of it.

Love hadn’t conquered anything by being loud or dramatic or written in the stars. It had endured because they had chosen to stay. Because they bravely faced the truth about themselves. Because they learned how to say sorry, how to listen, and how to let go of their old selves that no longer served the future they wanted.

They were not without faults.

They had been stubborn. Fearful. Reckless with each other at times.

But they had grown.

And growth had changed everything.

They stood in the middle of the court with their hands entwined, the huge Lynx logo at their feet and the arena stretched out around them in a quiet that felt almost sacred. The lights above kept humming but without the audience, the place felt small. Close. As if the building itself was taking a deep breath.

Azzi was the first to lean in toward her.

There was something soft in her expression now, something that had nothing to do with basketball or cameras or history. Her thumb brushed lightly over Paige’s knuckles, absentminded and grounding.

“We’re still here,” she said.

The words were not triumphant. They were not defiant. They were steady. A quiet acknowledgment of everything that had almost undone them and everything they had chosen instead.

Paige felt her throat tighten in a way she didn’t try to hide. She stepped closer, their joined hands drawing them together until there was no space left between their bodies. For a moment she simply looked at Azzi, really looked at her, taking in the familiar lines of her face under the arena lights.

She lifted her free hand to Azzi’s jaw and kissed her, slow and certain. Because she wanted to. Because there was no fear left attached to the wanting.

Azzi kissed her back the same way. The kind of kiss that said we made it. The kind that held seven years of almosts and missteps and quiet hope and folded them gently into something whole.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together for a second longer than necessary.

Paige let out a small, breathless laugh. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “We are.”

They were not the same girls who had started this journey. They were not untouched by the mistakes that had shaped them.

But they were still here.

Not because love had been easy.

Because they had chosen it.

Together.

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