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Olive

I feel the pang in my heart before he cements my fear into words.

I hear his even breathing, deep and contemplative with every lift and fall of his naked chest beside me.

I feel the weight in the mattress dip as he shifts away from my hold, distant and angry at the changing atmosphere I created with my honesty.

The end crackles between us like a dying fire, yet I still feel the burn of the flames as cold frustration radiates from him. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and starts collecting the clothes we’d scattered in a hurried frenzy across his bedroom floor.

“I thought we had an agreement,” Alex grumbles with his back turned to me, the taut muscles he’s worked hard for stretching as he slips on his shirt.

When his tan skin is covered, I let out a tiny breath. “We did,” I say quietly, grabbing the blanket and covering my torso as I sit up.

“Then why?” His tone is short as he grabs his boxers and slides them on next. When he stands and turns to me, there’s an accusation on his pinched face.

As if this is my fault.

But it’s his too.

I let go of the blanket, letting it pool around my waist. His icy blue eyes wander, flaring with the heat I already miss as he takes in my bare breasts.

Only minutes ago he was doing ungodly things to them with his mouth and hands, and we were enjoying every second of one another’s company. How did we get here?

His gaze sears into me as his nostrils flare open.

I’ve never looked like any of the puck bunnies who chase him around.

They’re all glamorous and put together—petite, skinny, and every man’s wet dreams. But Alex always looked at my curvy, size-eighteen body with the kind of lust that made me feel ten times more beautiful than any of those other girls.

It didn’t matter if I had a face full of my favorite makeup or was wearing something frumpy that made me look tom boyish.

His attention was always on me.

Even now, those gorgeous ocean eyes fill with just as much heat as they do frustration—like a storm brewing into something far bigger.

I do that to him.

Me .

“Don’t pin this all on me, Alex. It takes two to wind up in this sort of situation. Feelings don’t blossom out of nothing.”

“ Situation ,” he scoffs, raking a hand through his dark brown hair that’s grown out over the last few months. He evades his eyes from my large assets pebbled from the cold temperature of the room. He gingerly walks over and grabs my clothes and tosses them onto the foot of the bed. “Get dressed.”

“Alex—”

“We agreed, Olive,” he cuts me off coolly, pinning me with a daggered look that makes me swallow the rest of my words. What could I do? Beg? Plead? I’m not that kind of girl.

I never will be. I have too much pride.

“We agreed. No attachments. No feelings. No—” His teeth grind, leaving his jaw ticking.

Jesus Christ . He can’t even say it.

“Love,” I finish for him, gathering my clothes and starting to dress myself. My jerky movements aren’t rushed, but the shake to my hands as I hook on my bra and pull the borrowed hoodie over my head don’t go unnoticed by the man shredding everything I’ve given him tonight.

A huge piece of my heart.

My trust.

The hope that I so foolishly felt.

Sure, we’d had an agreement. But I thought time had made us into…

more. I’ve never said those three words to anybody other than my family and friends.

I always thought when I finally said them aloud to a partner, it would be reciprocated.

My heart twists not that I know just how wrong I was to assume.

He turns to give me privacy as I slip out of his bed as if we haven’t seen each other naked plenty of times before.

We hadn’t necessarily said that we were exclusive, but he’d told me as long as we were seeing each other he wouldn’t touch another woman.

He would hold me long after the orgasms had subsided, and finger-comb my hair until I’m lulled to sleep.

He’d brush hips lips against my head tenderly and murmur my name in contentment until sleep found him too.

He never asked me to leave or walked out after the deed was done.

That means something. To him and me.

No attachments?

I call bullshit.

He’s nothing but a scared little boy.

“This isn’t just in my head,” I tell him, refusing to let the quake that’s stirring my heart rise up my throat. I need to stay strong so he knows he can’t hurt me.

Even if he is.

He’s fucking torturing me with his calculated nonchalance.

Like this has all been some big joke to him.

Like I’m just another way to pass the time in between games, practice, and classes.

I know better than to think I’m only mild entertainment.

He can pretend that he’s too big for Lindon University and everybody here, but it’s all a facade.

The amused sound he makes gives me pause as I glance up through my lashes in his direction.

He’s grabbing his keys from the top of his dresser and shaking his head at whatever thought crosses his mind.

His hair has the just-had-sex look that’s always made him ten times sexier to me.

Especially when I’m the one who gives those dark locks their tousled look.

My fingers stop at the button of my jeans as he slowly looks over his shoulder at me and says, “I don’t love you, Olive. It was never going to be that deep for me. Not with you.”

Not with you.

For a moment, I leave my body.

The only thing grounding me back to reality are the tears that prickle the back of my eyes, burning the ducts as I blink rapidly to fight them off. My nose tickles with onslaught emotion, but I force myself to take a deep breath and nod like what he says makes sense.

Even though I’m worth it—the fight, the energy, the effort. He may be going to play in the NHL like he’s always wanted, but I’ll always be worth more than him. Because I have a big heart that’s full of so much love. The kind he doesn’t want.

Not with you.

As if he didn’t already wedge a knife into my heart, he decides to twist the handle until the blade obliterates what little respect I have left for him with a single sentence. “So maybe it was all in your head.”

Oxygen clings to my vocal cords as I stare at the soon-to-be drafted hockey player. The sexiest man I know. Certainly, the best one I’ve ever slept with.

Alexander O’Conner doesn’t compare to any other man, and he never will.

Not his looks. Not his skating ability on the ice and the strength he has to take down men twice his size to score a goal.

Not that I’d ever tell my hockey-playing big brother that his teammate’s personality has always shone brighter than any other human I’ve ever met.

Alex’s determination to make it pro one day burned even brighter, so much so sometimes it blinded me.

I’ve always respected how much work he put into turning his dreams into reality. I always wondered what motivated him because I knew, deep down, something was pushing him.

The problem with him, though?

He’s also the biggest asshole ever.

Closed off. Unwilling to change. Never offering me more information than he needs to. Every time I think one of his barriers is down, I find another one. He’s locked up tighter than Fort Knox.

I’m suddenly reminded why my older brother, Sebastian, warned me away from his teammate in the first place. “I should have listened to my brother when he told me not to go near you,” I spit at him in anger.

I’m more angry at myself.

For putting myself in this position.

For falling in love with a man who’s too scared to love back.

I tighten my fingers into my palm, feeling my fingernails dig into my skin until they leave crescent indentations.

“I’ll drive you home,” the gas-lighter tells me in that gruff tone, gripping the car keys as he walks toward the door.

I stare at him for a brief moment before making my decision, silently willing him to turn around.

Look at me, dammit!

But he doesn’t.

Because if he did, I’d see that he’s lying.

That he does care.

That this is something.

“Don’t bother,” I say, laughing coldly at myself.

How stupid could I be thinking this was more?

He was going away. That was his plan the whole time.

I’d be stuck here, who knows how far from whatever team he was bound to be drafted to.

There would be other girls and more opportunities.

And I couldn’t do anything about it. “We both know you don’t want to, anyway.

The last thing either of us needs is to be trapped in a fucking car together. ”

He doesn’t argue with me.

Doesn’t stop me from walking out.

And doesn’t follow me into the night blanketed by midnight stars and a cool breeze to make sure I get back to the dorms okay.

In that moment, I tell myself I’m done with him for good.

Hopefully, this time I’ll listen.