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Olive

M y heart is still pumping wildly three and a half hours later. I don’t think my hands have stopped shaking either. I’m normally all about a little adrenaline, but this shot of it doesn’t feel nearly as good.

“It’s going to be okay,” Belle promises, rubbing my arm sympathetically as she pulls up to the stadium. “The good news is you’re okay.”

I’m okay.

I’m. Okay.

That’s true. Even if my car isn’t. The tow truck driver didn’t seem to think it was a complete loss, but that’s up to the insurance company to decide. “I’m okay,” I repeat, but my voice feels distant—shakier than my fingers that I squeeze together in my lap.

Most of the drive to Pittsburgh went fine.

It was in the last thirty minutes that things went sideways.

The car that hit mine wasn’t paying attention to the long line of backed-up traffic waiting to get off the exit.

I think the cop said he’d been on his phone when he smacked into my poor, poor vehicle.

And then mine bumped into the car in front of me, which created a domino effect that left at least four cars damaged.

But I am okay.

Just shaken.

And carless.

Which is going to make getting back to Lindon fun. Or expensive. I’m not sure which yet, but I don’t have enough brain power to care.

“Hey,” Belle says softly.

I realize the car is off and I’m staring off into oblivion through the windshield. “Sorry.”

She shakes her head. “It’s okay. Jesse said the guys are still inside. They won.”

They won.

They won. And I wasn’t there.

“I’m a terrible girlfriend,” I groan, dropping my head onto the headrest. “It’s his first game, and I didn’t show up.”

Belle eyes me. “That isn’t your fault, babes. It’s the asshole who couldn’t wait to send his dick pick or whatever he was doing to some poor, unsuspecting woman.”

That gets me to snort.

She takes the keys out of the ignition and opens her door. “Come on. He’s going to want to see you, especially in that jersey.”

I look down at myself.

I wore his jersey just like he requested. And I even bought new panties that were yellow to match his team colors. If he even wants to see them at this point.

If he’s not mad. God, I hope he’s not mad. I’m mad enough for the two of us. Because of that dickhead who hit me. Because I missed the game. Because my father texted me almost directly after it happened asking me to talk.

I’m just…mad.

The walk into the stadium and through the back halls is quiet.

Belle knows exactly where to steer us like she’s done this a million times.

Which she probably had. Will that be me?

If I get this internship, I’ll definitely see behind-the-scenes stuff.

But if I get that on top of staying in this relationship, I’ll be as well versed as Belle.

Maybe.

I can hear the distant chatter and celebration as we round a corner that leads down a narrow hallway.

“This is the back entrance to the locker room,” she explains.

“The other side has a lot more people gathered. Some media waiting for post-game interviews, but mostly significant others, friends, and family.”

I nod as we stop by the doors and listen to a few guys howling like dogs from inside.

Belle rolls her eyes. “They’re obviously excited about the win. I’m pretty sure the idiot howling is Moskins.”

I let myself smile, but it feels forced. “I feel bad that I missed it.”

She squeezes my shoulder. “There will be other games. If they play the way they did tonight, there may even be a Stanley Cup.”

“That good?”

Her smile grows. “Oh yeah.”

I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse because I didn’t get to witness it myself.

She lets go of me and gestures toward the door, pushing it open and guiding me in. “Their dicks should be put away by now,” she reassures me as we venture further into the room. There’s a lot of steam from the showers and random equipment and dirty uniforms scattered on the tile floors.

And, like she said, pretty much everybody is dressed. With the exception of Moskins, who’s shirtless as he towel dries his hair.

But I barely give him any attention when I see Alex sitting in the corner, fully clothed and staring at his phone. That is, until Belle and I walk in. As if he can sense me, he bolts to standing.

The same time I say, “I’m so sorry,” he says, “Are you okay?”

Belle had called her stepbrother when she came to pick me up. I told her not to tell him much because I didn’t want Alex to worry about me, but I can see that was a pointless venture.

“I’m all right,” I say, even though he’s checking me out from head to toe. Thankfully, the airbag didn’t go off. But the seatbelt definitely hurt when it locked up on me, so I’d be shocked if there wasn’t a mark tomorrow across my chest.

I don’t even realize Belle disappears until Alex pulls me over to the bench he was just sitting on and sits me down. “I tried calling you, texting you.”

Frowning, I lift my phone out of my back pocket with a long sigh. “I’m not quite sure what happened, but it broke.”

The screen is cracked, and it hasn’t turned on since Belle picked me up.

The last message I saw was from my father.

It’s like fate bitch slapping me in the face.

As if getting rear-ended isn’t bad enough, let’s add my absent father’s texts to the mixture.

The last one he sent was him asking why I was being “childish” and not answering his calls.

Yeah, he isn’t getting any callbacks after that.

Alex’s throat bobs as he puts his hand on my cheek and caresses my face. “I could have fucking lost you tonight.”

Hearing his voice crack breaks my heart.

“I’m okay,” I tell him, cupping my palm over his on my face. “It was a freak accident, and I’m so, so sorry that I missed the game. I wanted to be here, Alex. I really did.”

His eyes are glassy as he studies my face, leaning back on his bent knees. The breath he releases is long and heavy. When he’s quiet, it’s the first time I notice the rest of the room is too.

Everybody is gone.

When I look from the empty space behind us back to Alex’s expression, I can see something heavy in his gaze. “What is it?”

His Adam’s apple bobs again. “I could have lost you tonight,” he repeats. “And that fucking terrifies me, Olive. I’ve lost so many people in my life. My father. My…” I know he was going to say his mother, but he stops himself. “The thought of losing you too…”

I reach out. “I’m right here.”

“Everybody has left me.”

His faraway look makes me nervous, so I sink onto my knees in front of him and grab his face to force him to look at me.

“I’m. Right. Here.” I say slowly, tugging on his lip with the pad of my thumb.

“I know this is scary. I know you’ve been dealt a shitty hand in life, but I’m not going anywhere.

This isn’t going to be like those annoying third-act breakups I read about in books because the couple is too afraid to work past their shit.

We’re not going to be those people. Do you hear me? ”

He blinks, which tells me I’m getting somewhere.

“I filled out my internship application and sent it in,” I continue, nodding with a small smile. “I don’t know if I’ll get it, but if I do, you’re sort of stuck with me. So stop acting like you want to push me away. I’m in this. Are you ?”

I hear the softest exhale from him that has me smiling a little wider. He blinks again, this time, his eyes focusing on mine.

“There you are,” I whisper. “You said yourself that this isn’t going to be easy. But if it’s going to work, we both need to put in the effort. I’m willing to do that, but you need to meet me halfway. Okay?”

Finally, finally , his head bobs.

Something in me shifts, a warmth spreading from my chest upwards. Happiness, I think. Hope, maybe? It’s something I don’t know if I’ve ever felt before.

“We’re allies, remember? A team.”

His eyes scan over me. “A team,” he agrees.

I blink, tears threatening to spill from the ducts they pool in. It feels good to be part of a team—an intimate one like this. It’s him and me, despite the odds. Who would have thought we would get here after he all but tore my heart out?

“You know, I kept thinking something was wrong with me for a long time. Bodhi Hoffman admitted he had feelings for me the other day. Feelings I didn’t know he had. It should have been obvious, but I was blind to it because there’s only one person I could ever think about. You.”

Those blue eyes of his darken.

“In the back of my mind, I thought there was no way I shouldn’t have fallen for somebody who made me feel that loved.

He’s the type of guy who could have given me everything if I truly wanted it.

But I didn’t. Because I never felt the same way as I have with you.

With anybody. Not even when I hated you—when I wanted to hate you.

We fought and made up and got stuck in a cycle of what-ifs, but it never made me waver in how I felt.

I liked when you took control. I liked when you wouldn’t give up, even when I told myself I wanted to move on. So is there something wrong with me?”

Alex’s eyes roam over my face. My right eye.

My left eye. My nose. My wavering lips. He plucks the bottom one with the pad of his thumb and loosens a shaky sigh.

“There isn’t anything wrong with liking how we do things.

With liking it rough or fast or hard. There’s nothing wrong with taking control or making demands.

You can feel cherished and loved in so many ways, Olive.

If I’ve ever failed to make you feel that then…

” He stops himself, his throat bobbing. “Not wanting to be with him doesn’t mean something is wrong with you.

He’s just not your person. He doesn’t truly know what you want. ”

“And you do?” I doubt.

His palm cups my face, his thumb caressing my cheek until I close my eyes and embrace the feeling. “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry.

I melt into his hold, leaning my cheek against his palm and sucking in a breath when he says, “I’m sorry that I love how we fight.

I love that we’re two forces to be reckoned with.

I’m sorry that whatever love he could have offered you wasn’t enough.

But I’m never going to be sorry for loving you more. ”

I start to shake my head but stop when he presses his fingers against my parted lips.

“I need you to choose me, Olive. I need it to be me that you pick fights with and love to hate. I need it to be me that you get irritated with and vent to your friends about. I need you to be by my side, cheering me on, holding my hand while I deal with shit with my mom. I fucking need you to love me as much as I love you or it might actually kill me.”

I stare at him in disbelief, remembering what he said not that long ago that broke a piece of me. “You told me you’d never love me.”

“I lied.”

“You told me it was never going to be like that with us.”

“I couldn’t let it be then.”

“Then what changed?”

A pause. “Everything.”

We stare at one another.

Unblinking.

Barely breathing.

Chest to chest.

Hand to face.

I relish in his admission. In his proclamation. In the possibilities of what this could mean. But does that mean I trust that he won’t change his mind tomorrow? Can I truly believe that he’s not simply saying this because his emotions are haywire from the game?

There are so many questions and not enough answers for me to even process what he’s asking of me. “You’re not the only one who’s scared of losing somebody, Alex. I can’t have you checking out when things are tough.”

“I won’t.”

“You need to promise.”

He presses my hands into his face. “I promise. I swear to you, Olive, I’ll do everything I can to prove how much I love you. You’ll probably be sick of me over it.”

Somehow, I doubt that.

“I love you,” I whisper, sniffling back tears that want to leak out. “I love you, Alex. I’ve loved you for a long time. And I swear to God, if you ever break my heart I’m going to hire people to take you out so you never skate again.”

“How very Tonya Harding of you,” he muses.

I roll my eyes. “I mean it.”

His forehead leans against mine. “I have no doubt, baby. And I have a feeling there’s more than one man on the Rangers who would probably back you up in that promise.”

He’s not wrong. “So we’re doing this?”

“Baby, we’ve never stopped.”

A lump forms in my throat. “Say it again.”

He chuckles, his lips brushing mine. “Are you getting greedy?”

I kiss him back. “I don’t take these things lightly. I need to make sure I heard you right.”

I feel him smile against my mouth. “I love you, Olive Henderson. Even though your brother hates me. Even though you’re probably going to cheer for the Rangers and the Giants. I love you despite how hard I tried not to. With you, it’s impossible not to feel this way.”

Yeah, I definitely like the sound of that.

“Holidays are going to be interesting,” I remark, thinking of what Sebastian will say to him. Especially if one of their teams advances past the other.

His lips quirk up higher at the corners. “But I wouldn’t miss it for the world. After all, we’re allies. We’re a team.”

My heart swells.

Because I love the sound of that.