Stephen’s POV:The air in the recovery court didn’t just vanish; it turned to lead, settling heavy and toxic in my lungs. My vision tunneled until the only thing I could see was that glowing phone screen. The photo was grainier than I remembered the night being, but the intimacy was unmistakable. The way Hayden’s hands gripped my waist, the slope of my shoulders as I leaned into him—it was a map of a secret we had spent years drawing in the dark."Stephen." Hayden’s voice was a low warning, but I couldn't look at him. I could feel the heat of the other players’ stares, crawling over my skin like insects. The whispers started instantly, a low-frequency hum that vibrated through the floorboards.The labels felt like physical brands. We had arrived at this camp with a pact of silence. We were a tactical unit, a "matched set" as Hayden had just spat at me, but we were supposed to be teammates first and everything else nowhere. Now, the wall we’d built was rubble at our feet."Give m
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