Page 46 of Deadly Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #2)
Olivia traced her fingertip around the rim of her empty coffee mug, staring around the kitchen where her world had turned upside down less than a week ago. The cricket pendant tinkled against the cross at the base of her throat. A final gift from her brother, thanks to Margaret Voss.
Her phone buzzed again?—
Marisol: Finally! When can I hear EVERYTHING? And when should I start rebooking patients?
Olivia typed back:
Monday for patients. Coffee soon for details.
Marisol: Soon = immediately. And don’t think I won’t ask about Mr. Tall Dark and Haunted. Something happened there. Don’t try to deny it. I have instincts.
A hollow ache spread beneath Olivia’s ribs. Nothing happened. Nothing could happen.
She set the phone down, her throat tight. Nothing could happen, but that didn’t mean nothing had been there. The way Axel looked at her sometimes ... But it didn’t matter now. That chapter of the story was over .
Her phone lit up again.
Marisol: Monday it is. But we’re talking about this over lattes ASAP, Chiquita .
Olivia managed a slight smile, grateful for her friend’s persistence. But the thought of returning to her normal routine felt strange now, like trying to squeeze back into clothes she’d outgrown. The past week had changed her. In too many ways to count.
As did learning the truth about James.
The relief of knowing her brother hadn’t taken his own life was staggering. He’d been murdered—a horrible truth that somehow hurt less than believing he’d lost hope and she hadn’t been there to save him.
And then there was the CIA agent, sacrificing herself to save them all. Redemption coming from the most unexpected place.
She glanced out the window toward Knight Tactical’s hangar, looming against the morning sky.
So close to her office. She’d see it every day, knowing Axel was inside.
Knowing exactly how his hands felt gripping hers as they ran for their lives.
Knowing how his voice softened when he talked about faith.
Knowing how carefully he guarded his trauma, and how badly she wanted to help him heal—as a woman, not as a therapist.
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She’d spent so long hiding behind her professional persona, reading other people’s emotions while keeping her own carefully contained.
Even now, she could sense the undercurrents of tension in the kitchen—Team Tank still processing in the other room, the weight of decisions and changes hanging in the air.
And she needed to go. Back to her office. Back to her patients. Back to being Dr. Kane, who kept everyone at a safe, professional distance .
She stood, gathering her things, when heavy footsteps approached the kitchen. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Her curse, that ability to sense emotions, picked up his agitation immediately.
Axel.
He stood in the doorway, radiating tension. Her professional mind automatically cataloged the signs—the tight set of his jaw, the controlled breathing, the way his fingers flexed and curled at his sides. But her heart ... her heart just wanted to reach out.
“You’re leaving?” His voice was rougher than usual.
“Back to real life.” She aimed for lightness, but the words felt wrong. What was real anymore? The ordered world of her practice, or these intense days of danger and connection?
“Olivia—” He broke off, raking a hand through his hair. The gesture was so uncharacteristically uncertain that her chest tightened.
“You’re agitated,” she said softly, then winced. Always the therapist. Always maintaining that professional distance.
His laugh held no humor. “Yeah. That’s one word for it.” He moved farther into the kitchen, his gaze falling on the coffee grinder. The same one that had triggered his PTSD what felt like a lifetime ago.
She watched him stare at it, feeling the weight of that memory. Of him breaking down. Of her instinct to help. Of the walls that had gone up immediately after.
“I need—” He stopped, squared his shoulders like he was facing enemy fire. “I need your help with something.”
The words cost him. She could see it in every line of his body, feel it in the charged air between them. Axel Reinhardt didn’t ask for help. Ever.
“Of course.” Her response was automatic, professional. Safe .
“No.” He turned to face her fully. “Not Dr. Kane’s help. Yours. Olivia’s.”
Her carefully maintained composure cracked. This was Axel choosing vulnerability, deliberately stepping into his fear. Like he had in that firefight. Like he had protecting her. But this was different. This was harder.
“I—” She swallowed, feeling her own walls trembling. “I’m not sure I know how to be anything else anymore.”
“Yeah.” His voice gentled. “I know something about hiding behind who we think we need to be.” He gestured to the coffee grinder. “Help me make an espresso? And maybe we can both stop pretending?”
The double meaning hung between them. Help with the trigger. Help with the walls. Help with everything they’d been dancing around since that first morning.
Her professional mask slipped further as understanding dawned. True healing—true connection—couldn’t happen behind walls. Not his. Not hers.
“Okay,” she whispered, and took a step toward him. Toward vulnerability. Toward whatever this was becoming.
She moved closer to the counter, hyperaware of his presence beside her. “Talk me through what you need.”
“Funny you should say that.” His voice was low, intimate. “Because what I need is to tell you something I should have said days ago, instead of pushing you away.” He took a deliberate breath. “And I’m really, really glad you never became my therapist.”
Her heart stumbled. “Axel?—”
“Because I don’t want fifty-minute time slots with Dr. Kane.
I want to get to know Olivia.” He turned to face her fully.
“I want to know what makes you laugh. What scares you. What you dream about. I want to face every trigger, every fear, every challenge—together. Not as patient and therapist. As friends. Maybe more. I mean, hopefully more. ”
Tears pricked her eyes. “It won’t be easy. We both have wounds, walls ...”
“Good thing we’re both healers in our own way.” His hand found hers, fingers intertwining. “You with your gift for seeing past people’s defenses. Me with whatever God’s given me to help others fight their battles. Different callings, same mission.”
“Partnership,” she whispered, understanding blooming. This wasn’t about giving up who they were. It was about becoming more, together.
“Takes a lot of faith,” he said, thumb tracing patterns on her palm. “Stepping into something new. Something real.”
“Faith and courage.” She stepped closer, letting down the last of her professional armor. “Tank would approve.”
His free hand came up to cup her cheek. “Tank would say we’ve been idiots for waiting this long.”
“He’d be right.” She leaned into his touch, feeling the tremors in his hand, knowing he was as nervous as she was. Both of them choosing to be vulnerable.
Both of them choosing to be brave.
“So, Dr. Kane ...” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “What’s your professional opinion on workplace romance?”
She laughed, joy bubbling up bright and unexpected. “I think ...” She rose on her toes, bringing their faces level. “I think some risks are worth taking.”
“Yes!” He breathed, and kissed her.
The coffee grinder sat forgotten on the counter, no longer a symbol of trauma but a reminder of beginnings. Of two broken people choosing to be brave. Choosing to heal.
Choosing each other.
And in the quiet of Knight Tactical’s kitchen, where everything started, something new began.
I hope you enjoyed watching Axel finally find his path to healing—and love—with Olivia. Writing about trauma and recovery while weaving in threads of faith and romance was both challenging and deeply rewarding.
The action continues in FIERCE HOPE as quiet, competent Jade Villanueva discovers her carefully built sanctuary in Hope Landing isn't as secure as she thought.
Lucky for her, Deke Williams takes his protection duties seriously.
..maybe too seriously where she's concerned.
But when past and present collide, they'll need more than attraction to survive—they'll need unwavering faith in each other and God's plan.