Page 85 of Between Love and War
“There’s no one path to a meaningful life,” I say. “And definitely no rule that says soft people don’t get to live big, brave lives too.”
She’s still looking at me, and a tear falls from her right eye. I can’t help but reach out and wipe it away with my thumb.
“So go open a bakery,” I add, a smile tugging at my mouth. “Be a preschool teacher. Or an athlete. Or a lion tamer. Or all of it at once. Change your mind ten times.” And then I pause, hand still on her cheek as I add, “Fall in love. Get married. Or don’t. Just… whatever you choose, choose it because it’s yours. Not because it fits the version of you everyone else decided on.”
I take my hand off her face. Her warm, pink cheeks, and somehow the feel of her skin on mine radiates even after I’ve touched her.
Kate’s voice is a whisper when she says, “And if I do want a family someday?”
“Then I hope you build one,” I say. “And when you do… I hope you know you deserve to be happy in it. Not just useful. Not just present. Happy.”
And at the same time, my own advice clicks. I don’t have to define what life means outside of basketball. I can live multiple lives without worrying about how I’ll be perceived. I don’t even have to know what I want right now, but I can find out, slowly, when I’m ready.
“I hope you will be happy too, Mikey,” she adds with a gentle smile.
And then I feel… seen.
If this is what happens when I choose for myself, then maybe coming here is the best decision I’ve made in my life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kate
I’ve bottled all of that for so long. But something about Michael asking me to say something honest somehow flips a weird little switch in me.
It’s always been easy to be real around him. From the very first time I met him, I didn’t have to pretend. Or worry about putting on my best smile. With Michael, I could just be… irritated. Angry. Annoyed. Amused. Whatever feeling it was, it slipped out easily.
And somewhere along the way, it stopped being just anger and irritation. It became these things too. The fears. The feelings I kept bottled up because I was afraid of being judged, or worse, disliked.
Turns out, this is what real honesty is like—the way someone makes it feel natural to hand over pieces of yourself you didn’t even mean to share. And even when the confessions were unplanned, it didn’t feel like a risk. Only relief.
We reach the end of the Ferris wheel ride, and honestly, I barely felt it even though we went for two rounds since the operator dozed off for a minute. Totally safe, by the way!
But I’m still not over that conversation, because no one’s ever asked me that before. People always assume I was fine. That I’m okay. Or maybe that my feelings are usually pushed to the side to make way for someone else’s. But now, I feel like the most important person in the world.
Maybe I’m being delusional, but I allow myself to bask in that tonight.
“Sorry about that,” I say as we get out of the ride and back to solid ground. “Too much?”
We walk aimlessly around the park. I’m sure this amusement park is much better in daylight, but the midnight breeze makes everything eerie. More serious. More dramatic than it should be. And that’s what I’m choosing to blame for my weird feelings tonight.
He shakes his head, gaze steady. “That was perfect, honestly,” he says. “I’ve been feeling the same way.”
I raise a brow. “You’ve been dreaming about having a family and opening a bakery with a chalkboard menu?”
He chuckles. “No. But… I’ve been wondering what life looks like if I stop letting it happen to me. If I stop doing things just because it’s what’s expected.”
“You mean basketball?”
He looks at me for a moment, then says, “Yeah. And everything that comes with it. People think this life is all glitz—flights, hotels, commercials. But you start young, and you get good, and then it becomes your whole identity. It stops being a choice.”
I stay quiet, then he glances at me again. “But I’m fine,” he says.
“That’s what someone who isn’t fine would say.”
“You’d know, wouldn’t you?” he asks, and I nod in response.
No other open rides look good, so we’re buying a few granola bars and soda cans from the nearest food stall. I look at him, as he says, “Well, there are days I love it. Most days I do. But there are days I wonder who I’d be without it.”
