Page 37

I wake up slowly, warmth cocooning me from all sides.

It takes me a second to remember where I am. Who I’m with.

The steady rise and fall of Grant’s chest beneath my cheek. The heavy weight of his arm draped around my waist.

The soft, slow way his fingers trace absent patterns against my bare back—even in sleep.

My chest tightens. Because for the first time in… maybe ever—I feel completely safe.

Not just physically.

But in a way that feels terrifyingly permanent.

I shift slightly, just enough to tilt my head, watching him. Even asleep, he looks intense.

Sharp jaw. Furrowed brow. Silver-streaked hair mussed against the pillow.

I bite my lip, tempted to reach out and smooth the tension between his brows.

But instead?

I carefully slip out of bed.

Because if I stay any longer, I might never leave.

In the kitchen, I move on autopilot.

Grind the coffee beans. Measure the water. Let the soft sounds of morning fill the silence in my head.

I unlock my phone, not really thinking, until I see—

My name. Still trending.

The news cycle hasn’t moved on.

Comments pour in, a mess of support, speculation, and outright insults.

Some people think it’s romantic.

Some think I’m a distraction.

Some think I’m using him.

Some think he’s using me.

I let out a slow breath, staring at the screen. It should bother me. Maybe, a week ago, it would have.

But now?

Now, I just take another sip of coffee. Because Grant chose me. And that’s all that matters.

Arms wrap around my waist from behind.

I jump, gasping.

A deep, sleepy chuckle rumbles against my back.

“You left me alone,” Grant murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

I roll my eyes, grinning despite myself. “I was being sneaky.”

“You suck at sneaky.”

His mouth ghosts over the curve of my neck, his beard scraping just enough to send shivers dancing down my spine.

I tilt my head slightly, giving him access, my fingers tightening around my mug.

“You’re not going to be late?” I tease, breathless.

Grant hums, nosing along my jaw.

“Let them wait.”

I laugh, turning in his arms, pressing my palms against his bare chest.

His dark eyes flick over me, slow and lingering.

My pulse skips.

He grins like he knows it.

I shove at his chest, pretending to scowl.

“So… do you still have a job?”

Grant smirks. “For now.”

I grin—just as his phone buzzes on the counter.

And when I see the name on the screen?

The lightness of the morning disappears.

Because it’s Lauren.

Grant sees the name on the screen and I feel every muscle in his body lock up.

“Lauren.” He does not sound happy. He’d told me about her custody threats. I can see how the thought of losing Olivia eats at him.

I notice the shift in him immediately.

My fingers, still lightly pressed against his chest, stiffen.

His jaw tightens as he reaches for the phone, his thumb hovering over the screen.

“Do you have to answer that?” I ask softly.

Grant exhales, eyes locked on the name.

“If I don’t, she’ll make my life hell later.”

I nod, but I don’t move away.

And for some reason, that makes it easier for him to answer. He puts the phone on speaker, holding me close.

“Hello Lauren.”

“Grant,” she greets, voice smooth and edged with amusement.

He doesn’t bother with pleasantries.

“What do you want?”

Lauren tuts. “Is that any way to speak to the mother of your child?”

His teeth grind. “Cut the bullshit.”

There’s a pause, then a dramatic sigh.

“Fine. I’ll get to the point. This little romance you’ve decided to flaunt all over the media? It’s not a good look.”

Grant stares at the floor, forcing himself to breathe. He won’t give her the reaction she wants.

“Let me guess,” he mutters. “You’re worried about optics.”

“I’m worried about Olivia,” Lauren counters smoothly. “And what kind of… instability she might be exposed to.”

The words land like a hit to the ribs.

I see something in his expression shift because my brows furrow.

I reach for his hand.

And Grant? He lets me take it.

“There’s no instability,” he says, keeping his voice calm.

Lauren laughs. “You really don’t see how this looks, do you? A head coach sleeping with a player’s sister? You might think this is a fairytale, but in reality? It’s messy. And I don’t want Olivia caught in the crossfire.”

His grip tightens around my hand.

“Cut the crap, Lauren. You don’t care about optics. You care about control.”

Lauren pauses.

“You’re right.”

Grant stills.

Lauren hums. “Maybe I do like having the upper hand. And maybe I don’t like the idea of my daughter spending time with someone who… what’s the word?... doesn’t exactly scream stability.”

I go still.

And Grant?

He fucking sees red.

“My personal life has nothing to do with my ability to be Olivia’s father,” he growls.

Lauren clicks her tongue. “That’s what you think. But in a courtroom? They might disagree.”

Grant’s stomach turns to stone.

“This is another custody threat,” he says flatly.

Lauren doesn’t deny it.

“Think of it as an opportunity, Grant.” Her voice is all silk and venom. “To decide what matters most.”

The line goes dead.

Grant stares at the phone.

He’d told me she’s not above playing dirty.

But this?

This is a new level.

When Grant looks up, I’m watching him, my expression unreadable.

But then, my fingers tighten around his.

And I say the only thing that could possibly anchor him right now.

“We’ll fight her.”