Chapter 3

PAIGE BUECKERS LOVED HER FIANCÉE. She wanted everyone to know it. It was easy to love the woman who found beauty in what she called flaws. Easy to love the woman who would rearrange the stars if asked.

Loving Télyn felt like breathing—natural, necessary, and impossible to stop.

Paige Bueckers loved her fiancée.

But love was messy, a catalyst for every emotion it touched. Grief, joy, anger. Love had a way of making you believe in forever… right up until it asked you what you were willing to lose to keep it.

Love didn’t just want her heart; it wanted her future.

And if sacrificing that future meant having forever with Télyn, then Paige would put it all on the wire.

She thought she made that decision when she got down on one knee and asked her to marry her.

But love didn’t ask its price upfront. It waited until the quiet of Stanford Hospital, two years later, when Télyn had gotten sick in the middle of her third year of med school. That was the test of time.

It happened fast. A few months after their failed IVF attempt. One moment, Télyn was at her desk, flipping through flashcards. The next, she was vomiting across the bathroom floor, unable to stop.

Sade found her curled against the tile, groaning in pain. The sight stole the air from her lungs. She tried to help, but when Télyn was like this, help was impossible. Every touch was too much. Every word too loud.

Télyn stayed pressed to the cold floor, breath shallow and uneven. Water wouldn’t stay down. Every sip came back up, soaking her shirt. That was when Sade called the ambulance.

The day stretched long after that.

Paige was halfway across the country when Sade called her. Télyn had a ruptured appendix. It needed to be removed immediately, and she didn’t want anyone else but Paige. Hospitals still haunted her after her mother had been admitted to one and never came home.

Paige had a game in Minnesota later that day. National broadcast. Playoff implications. People depending on her—teammates, coaches, an entire franchise built around the certainty that Paige Bueckers would show up.

There it was. The other life. The one with contracts and cameras and expectations. The one that had always demanded everything and given her just enough back to make it feel worth it.

But none of them were lying in a hospital bed, terrified and alone.

Paige didn’t even think twice about her decision. She needed to be with Télyn. She told her coach everything—about the appendix, about the stress, about how bad it was. And he let her go.

Because Paige showed up time and time again for the team.

And this time, the team showed up for her.

The flight to San Francisco dragged. The drive to Stanford felt longer. By the time Paige arrived, Télyn was asleep,  fresh out of surgery, her appendix removed. Paige sat beside the bed and watched her breathe, slow and shallow, and let herself believe the worst was over.

They told her the surgery went well.

What they didn’t know yet—what no one knew yet—was that during the appendectomy, her bowel had been nicked.

It didn’t announce itself right away.

The infection crept in quietly. Stool leaked into her abdominal cavity. By the time Télyn’s body reacted, it reacted violently. Her blood pressure dropped. Her fever spiked. She stopped waking up the way she should have.

Paige watched the room fill with people.

Sepsis, they said.

They put a tube down her throat to help her breathe. Another through her nose to drain her stomach. Medications dripped into her veins to keep her blood pressure from crashing completely.

Days later, they took her back into surgery, not to remove anything this time, but to wash out the infection. To clean what they could. To close her up and hope her body would recover.

Paige waited.

When Télyn came back, she was smaller somehow. Quieter. Surrounded by machines that breathed for her. Paige took her hand and held on.

Three weeks, they said later. At least.

Paige stayed for all of it.

She missed practices. She missed games. She missed flights and meetings and media obligations she’d spent years never missing before. Her jersey stayed folded in her bag while she learned how to sleep in a chair, how to read monitors, how to measure time in vitals and medication schedules.

None of it mattered.

Not when Télyn’s chest rose and fell because a machine allowed it. Not when Paige was the first face she saw on the days she woke up confused and afraid. Not when staying meant choosing love over everything else, again and again.

This was the part no one warned her about.

Not the proposal. Not the vows. Not the dream of forever.

This.

Paige only left the hospital to shower at the hotel she’d been staying in. It felt wrong every time, like tempting fate, like stepping away might cost her something she wouldn’t get back. She never stayed gone long. Just enough to feel human again. Just enough to return.

One day was especially hard.

Télyn had been doing better. Her numbers steadier. Her color improving. She was awake, lucid, teasing Paige the way she always did—soft smiles, tired eyes.

“You suck at braiding,” Télyn murmured, watching Paige’s fingers fumble through her hair.

Paige huffed quietly. “You’re lucky I’m even trying.”

“Then let me do it,” Télyn said.

“You can barely lift your arms.”

“Exactly. So do better.”

Paige leaned closer, careful, concentrating like the smallest mistake might undo the moment. Télyn laughed weakly, the sound thin but real, and Paige held onto it like proof that things were turning around.

Then Télyn’s blood pressure crashed.

The room filled with people. The laughter disappeared. The monitors told a different story. Paige was pushed back while hands moved quickly over Télyn’s body, voices sharp and urgent. Paige watched it happen, helpless, her heart in her throat.

That was when it finally hit her.

This was the price.

Love hadn’t asked for it when she got down on one knee. It hadn’t asked for it in vows or promises or dreams of forever. It waited until a hospital room in Stanford, until Paige stood frozen against the wall watching the woman she loved fight to stay alive.

Paige Bueckers loved her fiancée.

And loving her meant staying—through every rise, every fall, every moment that threatened to take her away.

“So, how’s Té?” Maddy asked, taking a sip of water.

Paige poured dressing over her salad. She’d been weirdly consistent about eating her vegetables and had to admit they weren’t half bad. Spinach was her favorite, mostly because Télyn had once taught her she could throw it into smoothies and never even notice it was there.

“She’s doing great,” Paige said honestly. “She’s happy to be home.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” Maddy paused, studying her. “She seems different now. Maybe being with you will mellow her out.”

Paige looked up. “Different how?”

Maddy exhaled softly, folding her arms over the table. “When I first met her, she was quiet, but in a way where you knew that was just her personality. Then, she opened up a bit, and she would always bother me after games and practices. Now, she’s quiet again, but it’s different this time. It’s like she’s pulling inward.”

Paige nodded.

Maddy didn’t know how literal pulling inward was. Didn’t know about the days Télyn described as gray. Not sad, not happy, just empty. About the medication that kept her upright but sanded everything down to a dull hum. About how emotions came in blunted waves now, never sharp enough to hurt, never strong enough to feel alive.

“She’s been carrying a lot,” Paige said again, softer this time.

“She doesn’t seem unhappy,” Maddy said carefully. “Just… distant.”

Paige’s fingers tightened around her fork.

That was the trick of it. Télyn wasn’t unhappy most days. She wasn’t anything at all.

“She feels things differently right now,” Paige said. It was the closest she could get without saying too much. “Some days are just quieter than others.”

Maddy tilted her head. “But not with you.”

Paige looked up.

It wasn’t a question.

Paige swallowed. “No,” she said honestly. “Not with me.”

With Paige, Télyn laughed easier. Ate more. Slept without waking up disoriented and hollow. With Paige, there was color again—small, fragile bursts of it, but real. Paige didn’t pretend she didn’t notice the way Télyn’s shoulders dropped the moment Paige walked into a room, like her body had been holding its breath the entire time they were apart.

Long distance had made everything worse. Feeling nothing was easier when you were alone. When no one could see it. When the only proof you were still capable of feeling was a facetime screen and a countdown to the next goodbye.

“She’ll be okay now,” Paige said, more to herself than to Maddy. “She just… needs consistency.”

Maddy hummed. “You.”

Paige smiled, small and sad and full all at once.

“Yeah,” she said. “Me.”

She went back to her salad, spinach slick with dressing. Télyn had once joked that Paige was the only thing that cut through the fog, that loving her felt like standing in sunlight after being indoors too long. Paige carried that with her now, the weight and the privilege of it.

“How are you doing?” Maddy asked.

Paige paused, her fork hovering mid-air.

She could’ve said fine. Could’ve said good, or better now. The words were right there, easy and expected. Instead, she set the fork down.

“I’m okay,” she said after a beat. “I just worry about her.”

Maddy raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. Paige appreciated that about her.

“It’s weird,” Paige went on, quieter. “She never talks about anything that’s happened to her. Not with me, at least. Some things she wants to handle on her own, but I wish she would talk to me.”

Maddy nodded, understanding. She didn’t know much about Télyn, but she’d heard enough stories to piece together a version of her in broad strokes. Resilient. Private. The kind of person who carried things quietly and expected herself to be strong enough to manage them.

“That makes sense,” Maddy said. “Some people just… compartmentalize. Especially the ones who’ve been through a lot.”

Paige’s jaw tightened, just a fraction.

“Yeah,” she said. “She’s always been like that. I just—” She stopped herself, thumb brushing the edge of her plate. “I want to be the place she puts it down.”

Maddy softened at that. “You are,” she said gently. “Even if she doesn’t say it out loud.”

Paige nodded, though the reassurance only went so far.

“She’ll be okay,” Maddy added. “I think med school and being away from you just made everything harder for her.”

Paige nodded again. She appreciated Maddy’s words, she did, but this was Télyn they were talking about. Télyn, who didn’t experience anything halfway. Télyn, whose emotions had always come in full color.

Before the meds, everything hit her at once. Joy that bordered on euphoria. Grief that swallowed whole days. Love that rooted itself so deep Paige sometimes wondered how either of them survived it. And after—after the hospital, after the year that seemed determined to take things from them one by one—the meds had done what they were supposed to do. They quieted the extremes. Smoothed the edges.

But they’d taken other things with them, too.

Now Télyn lived somewhere between numb and overwhelmed, and when she felt something, she felt it all at once. There was no easing in. No gradual climb. Just nothing… and then everything. Paige had learned to recognize it in the smallest ways. The way Télyn’s voice softened when she was fading. The way she clung a little tighter when she finally felt present again. The way love still broke through when nothing else could.

Especially love.

Paige stabbed at her salad, appetite gone. Maddy kept talking—about practice, about travel schedules, about things that existed cleanly in the present—but Paige’s mind drifted, as it always did, back to Stanford. To an apartment that felt too quiet. To a woman who carried the weight of med school, of recovery, of loss, mostly alone.

The hardest part wasn’t the worrying. Paige had learned how to live with that. It was the knowing. Knowing she couldn’t always be there. Knowing that no matter how badly she wanted to, she couldn’t step out of games or flights or obligations every time Télyn’s voice sounded a little too flat on the phone. Loving her meant trusting that she would survive the moments Paige couldn’t reach her in time.

And that terrified her.

Because Paige had seen what almost happened. Had stood in a hospital room watching machines breathe for the woman she loved. Had learned how quickly everything could change without warning. That kind of fear didn’t fade. It settled into her bones and stayed there.

“She’s resilient,” Maddy said, like it was the final word.

Paige nodded, because arguing felt pointless. Because resilience was what people said when they didn’t know the cost.

“She is,” Paige agreed quietly.

But resilience didn’t mean untouched. It didn’t mean healed. And it definitely didn’t mean that being apart didn’t carve something hollow into both of them.

Paige loved Télyn with a steadiness that surprised even herself. Loved her through distance and silence and the waiting. Loved her knowing that sometimes she was the only thing Télyn could still feel clearly, and hating herself a little for how much power that gave her.

She wanted to be enough without being everything. Wanted Télyn to find light in places that weren’t just her.

But until then, Paige would carry the worry. Would shoulder the fear. Would love her from wherever she was standing.

Because loving Télyn had never been easy.

And Paige had never once considered walking away.

The house was quiet when Paige arrived, the comforting smell of eucalyptus enveloping her as she set her practice bag in the foyer closet. Paige glanced down at her watch. It was a quarter to two, meaning lunchtime had passed. If Paige knew Télyn like she thought she did, she had probably forgotten to eat.

Paige made her way into the kitchen. It still reeked of Fabuloso, making a soft sigh escape her lips. Télyn cleaned, and cleaned, and cleaned. If she couldn’t see her reflection, if she couldn’t smell nothing, then she cleaned until she could. It was how she kept the fog at bay, how she proved to herself she was still here.

Paige set Télyn’s lunch in the refrigerator and made her way upstairs, where she was sure Télyn was doing something she had no business doing. When she reached the stair landing, she could hear a high-pitched whirring sound.

She shook her head, making her way up the rest of the steps. The noise came from the room right next to the master bedroom. Paige pushed the door open, and found Télyn crouched on the floor, drilling wooden shelves together.

“Hey,” Télyn said, reaching over to grab another screw, not looking up.

Paige leaned against the doorframe. “Hey. What are you doing?”

“Putting this bookshelf together,” Télyn replied. She drilled the screw into place. “It’s really easy.”

Paige shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You feel like Handy Manny today? We said we were gonna assemble it together.”

Télyn finally turned around, just briefly. “I got bored,” she said flatly, grabbing a shelf.

Bored was an adjective she used often lately, and it almost never meant what it sounded like.

“Huh,” Paige mumbled as Télyn turned the drill on again. “Where’s Bug?”

“Taking a nap,” Télyn said. “She could sleep through World War Three.”

Paige smiled. “Reminds me of you.”

Télyn laughed, the sound easy and familiar, the kind that came from her chest instead of being dragged out of her. She shook her head, lining the shelf up again. “Rude,” she said, smiling to herself as she turned the drill back on.

“You want me to help you?” Paige asked gently.

Télyn turned to her, eyes narrowed. “I got it. It’s easy.”

Paige nodded, stepping further into the room. It was filled with unopened boxes, the walls white and bare. They had decorated every room beside this one. Télyn had said they should save the best for last.

“Did you eat today?”

“I had breakfast,” Télyn said quietly, like she knew Paige wouldn’t accept that. “And a snack.”

Paige sat across from her, gently prying the drill from her hands. Télyn finally looked up. She looked how she normally did—eyes bright enough, posture relaxed enough, nothing about her that screamed wrong.

“It’s three o’clock,” Paige said. “You need lunch.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t care. The chefs made you lunch, so you will eat it, and you will like it.”

Télyn groaned softly, rolling her neck. Her hand reached for her stomach, rubbing it slowly. Through the thin fabric of her tank top, she could feel the scars the doctors left when stitching her up.

Paige moved closer, kneeling beside her on the floor. She took Télyn’s hands gently, kissing her knuckles. “I don’t care what you feel like. You’re gonna eat, and I’ll sit with you until you do.”

“You’re sexy when you’re like this,” Télyn teased despite the seriousness of the situation.

“Té…” Paige’s voice softened, though her grip tightened. She wanted to say more—about how much she worried, about how much it hurt to see her like this—but she swallowed it down. Words weren’t necessary right now. Presence was.

“Okay, okay,” Télyn said, finally letting a small smile curve her lips. “I’ll eat the chicken… even though it’ll probably be bland.”

“It won’t be,” Paige said, grinning.

Télyn’s lips twitched into a reluctant laugh. “Okay, come on.”

She stood first, taking Paige’s hands and pulling her up. Télyn looked down at the iPad, Juni sleeping soundly in her bedroom.

Télyn turned to Paige, biting her lip in a nervous habit. “Can I have a kiss?” she asked quietly.

Paige leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Télyn’s lips. It was brief, but grounding. Télyn’s hands lingered on hers, warm and tentative, and Paige felt that familiar coil of worry ease just a fraction.

“You okay?” Paige murmured, searching her eyes.

Télyn nodded immediately. She leaned in again, pressing her lips against Paige’s once more, a little longer this time, just enough to make Paige’s heart race. Her hands threaded through Paige’s hair, pulling her closer in a silent plea, teasing and urgent all at once.

Paige chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind Télyn’s ear. “You missed me?”

“So much,” Télyn answered quietly. She rested her forehead against Paige’s, breathing warm and fast, letting the space between them shrink until it felt like nothing else existed.

Paige smiled, pressing another soft kiss to her temple. “I missed you too,” she murmured. Her hands stayed on Télyn’s waist, steadying them both, letting her feel that she was completely present.

Télyn’s hands lingered, tracing gentle patterns along Paige’s arms, small but insistent. “Saphy wants to watch Juni tonight.”

“I thought you didn’t wanna leave her alone overnight again,” Paige said, brushing her nose against Télyn’s.

Télyn smirked, a gleam in her eye. “Juni wanted to spend the night with her auntie. I can’t say no to her.”

“So… that means the house is all ours,” Paige said, a teasing lilt in her voice, letting her hands rest lightly on Télyn’s hips.

Télyn’s grin widened, mischievous and almost daring. “Exactly,” she said, tilting her head, letting her fingers linger on Paige’s arms. “No little ears, no distractions… just us.”

“And what exactly do you plan to do with that?” Paige asked, voice low, playful, but with an edge of curiosity that made her own stomach flutter.

Télyn leaned closer. “Whatever I want,” she whispered, her breath warm against Paige’s lips. “Starting with you.”

Paige chuckled softly, leaning into her, letting herself melt against the familiar weight of her fiancée. “You really don’t make it easy, do you?”

Télyn laughed, a low, breathy sound that made Paige’s chest ache. “Never,” she said, stepping just a fraction closer, the heat between them palpable. “I missed you. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Paige swallowed, feeling that familiar coil of tension, half desire, half anticipation, all wrapped up in love. “Good,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Télyn’s temple. “Because I’ve been thinking about you too.”

“I think we’re going to have a very long night,” Télyn teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“And the night starts with you eating,” Paige teased, slapping Télyn’s butt lightly. “Let’s go.”

Télyn groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes but not resisting as Paige took her hand and led her toward the kitchen.

Paige warmed up Télyn’s food as Télyn sat at the island, scrolling through her phone.

“What color should we paint the room?” Télyn asked.

“Purple,” Paige said immediately.

Télyn scoffed. “No.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Grey or light blue.”

Paige laughed softly. “So… basic.”

“No,” Télyn said. “Neutral.”

“We don’t need neutral right now. We need something with personality,” Paige said, crossing her arms.

“Blue has a personality. So does grey,” Télyn argued.

Paige took the food from the microwave and set it in front of Télyn. “Unemotional, bland, forgettable,” she said, leaning against the counter and watching Télyn pick up her fork. “We need something that makes a statement.”

Télyn raised an eyebrow. “We need something soothing.”

“Purple is very soothing. Especially lavender.”

Télyn tapped her fork against the plate thoughtfully. “Okay,” she conceded. “The room can be purple, but I get to pick the accent colors.”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “That was too easy.”

Too easy. Nothing ever came easy with Télyn’s stubborn self.

Télyn didn’t answer. She cut off a piece of the chicken, popping it into her mouth and chewing slowly. “Bland,” she muttered.

“What do you want, Té?” Paige asked, sliding onto the stool next to her, leaning just a little closer.

Télyn shrugged, chewing slowly, eyes flicking up to Paige with that smirk that always made her chest tighten. “I don’t want anything.”

“Liar,” Paige said.

Télyn’s lips twitched. “You know me so well.”

“So what do you want?” Paige asked, voice low, leaning closer.

Télyn turned fully towards her, smiling mischievously. “You’ll know soon enough.”

“Why am I scared?”

“You should be.”

Paige laughed despite herself, rubbing Télyn’s thigh. “Shut up, and finish eating your chicken.”

“The chicken will be eaten,” Télyn said, taking another quick bite. “Tell your chefs they suck.”

“I won’t be telling them anything of the sort.” Paige’s rubbing persisted, her fingers inching up slower. “Can Juni go to Sapphire’s house now?”

“I can call her,” Télyn said as she set her fork down. “I think she’d be happy to get Juni early.”

Paige’s fingers lingered on Télyn’s thigh a moment longer, tracing lazy circles. “Perfect. Let’s call her.”

Télyn pecked a tentative kiss to her lips, just enough to make Paige’s chest tighten. “Okay,” she murmured, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Sapphire picked up on the second ring.

“Princesa, what the hell do you want?” she demanded.

Télyn rolled her eyes, glancing at Paige. “You want to pick up Juni now? She’s taking a nap, so she shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”

“You’re not following your schedule?” Sapphire asked. “What’s up with you?”

Télyn shrugged “Nothing. Just thought you’d wanna spend time with your niece.”

Paige’s fingers brushed up Télyn’s thigh, slipping just a fraction inside her shorts, careful and deliberate. Télyn’s eyes flicked to hers, that mischievous glint in them softened by the warmth Paige knew so well.

“I do,” Sapphire said. “But you already sent me the itinerary for tonight, and her structured ass schedule.”

Télyn didn’t respond right away, her breathing growing heavier as Paige’s fingers slipped inside her.

Paige leaned closer, pressing her side against Télyn’s, phone cradled between shoulder and ear. “You gonna answer her, or… should I?” she murmured, voice low, teasing, letting her fingers move just enough to make Télyn squirm.

Télyn let out a soft, breathy laugh, voice catching slightly. “Sapphire… can you hold on for a second?” she managed. Her free hand brushed Paige’s arm, grounding her, guiding her with a silent, insistent plea.

“Stop,” she barely managed.

Paige laughed, her fingers slipping just a little deeper, making Télyn shift and gasp softly against her. The heat radiating off her fiancée made her chest tighten, pulse racing.

“You gonna answer her?” Paige asked again.

Télyn shook her head no immediately, her fingernails digging into Paige’s arm.

Paige grabbed the phone from the counter, putting it on speaker. “Hey, Saphy,” she said smoothly. “Juni will be ready in thirty minutes.”

“Okay,” Sapphire said. “I’ll just be on the way now, since Té decided she wants to live in a gated community in the middle of nowhere.”

Paige glanced at Télyn, her fingers moving deliberately, teasing against Télyn, drawing soft, breathy gasps that she could feel more than hear.

“Great,” Paige said. “We’ll be ready for you.”

Sapphire let out a low chuckle. “Okay.”

Paige hung up the phone, her fingers deepening, deliberate and teasing, eliciting a soft, breathy gasp from Télyn. Her head tilted back just slightly, lips parting, and her free hand threaded into Paige’s hair, clutching gently as if anchoring herself to the sensation.

“You’re annoying,” Télyn murmured, voice low and shaking slightly, eyes half-lidded with that familiar mix of mischief and surrender.

“And you love it,” Paige whispered, pressing a fleeting kiss to her temple, letting her thumb continue in slow, careful circles. Télyn’s hips shifted subtly, a quiet moan catching in her throat.

“Okay,” Télyn breathed. “Let’s go get Juni ready.”

Paige nodded and removed her fingers, licking them clean.

“I’ll get her ready,” she said, glancing at the counter, Télyn’s plate half-eaten. “You finish your food. Can’t have a productive night if you faint halfway through.”