Page 58 of Caden & Theo

Standing just a few feet down the hall, dressed in business-casual exasperation and holding a phone like it’s part of his arm, is Marcus.

Theo stiffens beside me.

“Sorry,” I start. “We were just?—”

Marcus lifts a hand. “Don’t.”

I shut my mouth.

There’s a long beat where none of us move. Then Marcus sighs, scrubs a hand over his face, and gives us a look that lands somewhere between exhausted and bemused.

“Listen, I don’t care if you two are writing love letters on each other’s Gatorade labels,” Marcus says, arms crossed but not unkind. “But if you’re gonna be kissing in hotel hallways on the night you sign your first pro contract? Try not to do it where a PR rep or scout might see it. All right?”

We both straighten like we’re back in high school and just got caught making out behind the bleachers. Theo clears his throat and looks away. I rub the back of my neck.

“Sorry,” I say, sheepish.

Marcus exhales and waves it off. “I get it. You’re young. It’s a big night. Emotions are high, and your guy is hot. But I’ve got to ask…” His eyes flick between us, serious now. “Are you planning to come out?”

The weight of that question sinks into my gut. Theo glances at me, letting me lead again. I shake my head. “Not yet.”

Marcus nods slowly. “And this—” He gestures between us again, less flippant this time. “—is serious?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Very,” Theo adds.

Marcus gives us a long, assessing look. Then something softer settles over his features. “All right. I’m glad you’re keeping it quiet. I know it sucks, but the truth is, the first openly gay?—”

“Bisexual,” I correct quietly.

He nods. “Right. Queer. The first openly queer guy to play in the league? That’s going to be huge. And it’s not going to be easy.”

He doesn’t say what I already know: I’m not a guaranteed success story. I wasn’t drafted. I’m coming in as an undrafted free agent, trying to earn a spot in a league that chews peopleup. My contract might say “two-way,” but that just means a split between the big team and the G League. No promises. No guarantees.

Marcus doesn’t have to say it. I feel it in the silence between us.

“I know,” I murmur.

“Then keep your head down. Focus on training camp. Make them want you so bad, they forget to blink.”

I nod.

“And if you need help navigating any of this, I’m your guy. Not the coaches, not the front office. Me.”

I nod again, more firmly. “Thanks.”

Marcus gives Theo a long, thoughtful look. “And you—if you’re in this, be ready for the long haul. This world? It’s not always kind.”

Theo lifts his chin. “I know. I’ve known that a long time.”

“Good,” Marcus says. “Because from what I’ve seen, you’re both in deep.”

“We are,” I say without hesitation.

He stares at us a moment longer, then claps a hand on my shoulder. “Then congratulations, North. You’re officially in the league. Don’t screw it up.”

And just like that, he turns and walks off, leaving the two of us standing alone in the hallway.