Page 24

OLIVIA

S ebastian gets out of bed without a word.

Naked. All muscle and tension. Broad chest, cut abs, powerful legs that flex as he moves. He leans down, picks up his briefs, muscles rippling across his back, then pulls them on.

Then his jeans. No shirt. No eye contact.

I slide out of bed, limbs heavy, skin sore in all the ways that make it harder to pretend last night didn’t happen. I find my pants, blouse. Dress quickly. Run my fingers through my hair, not bothering with makeup.

The silence stretches.

Him, brooding. Me, breaking.

I know he’s waiting for me to say something.

Something that will make this feel like more than it is. Or less than it is.

Something that will tether him—or let him go.

But I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

Last night I was so sure.

Even this morning, waking up with his arms around me, the weight of him grounding me, the soft way he kissed my shoulder—it felt right. Like maybe I could live in that moment forever.

But that’s not reality.

Reality is: I crossed a line.

A big one.

No matter how deeply I feel about him—what we did was wrong.

Professionally. Ethically.

It doesn’t matter that I haven’t formally counseled him in weeks. Or that our sessions were brief. The line exists for a reason. And I crossed it.

The only way forward—the only way to make this right—is for me to give notice to Coach.

Which means finding another job. Another city. Another life.

Which means walking away from Sebastian.

The thought spirals, fast and sharp. It cuts through the haze of last night, the warmth of him beside me. It makes my skin tight. My breath shallow. I press my hand to my chest, trying to slow the panic crawling up my throat.

He turns slightly, watching me.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low, picking up his hoodie from the floor.

I nod too quickly. “Yeah.” I swallow. "I don't know."

Two long strides, and he's pulling me into his arms.I stiffen, just for a moment. But when his hand rests on my cheek, forcing me to look at him—I melt.

"I'll make this right," he says.

My heart cracks a little. Because I know he means it. But there’s no version of this that ends clean. And I’m not ready to tell him what that means. Not yet.

So I say nothing.

He leans in, mouth brushing mine. Soft at first. Just breath and warmth and the taste of something unspoken. Then deeper. Slower. Like he’s trying to memorize me. Like he knows he might not get another chance.

His hand slides to the back of my neck, holding me in place as his lips move against mine—unrushed, aching.

And it undoes me.

It’s not just the kiss. It’s how he gives it. Like he means it. Like he’s holding on with both hands and praying I’ll hold back.

His mouth is soft but certain, coaxing rather than demanding. His thumb brushes my jaw, his body close enough to make me forget everything that matters.

And for a second, I let him.

Let myself sink into it. Into him.

Because I want this. God, I want this.

But it doesn’t change anything.

Wanting him doesn’t fix what we’ve broken. Doesn’t erase the line I crossed. Doesn’t make the fallout any less real.

When he finally pulls back, I’m breathless—lips tingling, chest tight, heart stumbling over itself.

But the weight of it presses in fast.

Too fast.

I step back—just enough to breathe, to think, to put space between us.

“We’re going to be late for our flight,” I say, voice barely more than a whisper.

He watches me for a beat, jaw tight. Then drags a hand through his hair, slow and frustrated, like he’s trying to steady himself. Like he’s swallowing whatever he wants to say.

He nods once. Short. Resigned.

Then in the same breath, he pulls on his hoodie, steps toward the door, and opens it?—

—and there’s Harper.

Two coffees in hand.

Her brows lift, eyes flicking between us as a knowing smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“Well. Good morning,” she says, voice light—curious, not unkind.

Sebastian hesitates, caught in the doorway.

“I was just—uh,” he stammers, clearing his throat. “We needed to talk. About…something.”

It’s a terrible lie.

Harper doesn’t press. Just lifts a brow, that curious glint in her eye saying uh-huh without a word.

She shifts her weight and steps aside, giving Sebastian room to pass.He mumbles a goodbye and slips out, disappearing down the hall.

“Guess I’ll take that as a yes to coffee,” she says, grinning. "Tell me everything."