“Yeah. Just tired.”
It’s a lie, and we both know it. But Derek’s smart enough not to push.
The locker room is chaos with music blasting, guys celebrating, and Coach giving his usual post-game speech about execution and heart. I go through the motions. Shower. Dress. Answer questions from reporters about trusting my instincts and believing in my teammates.
All the while, my phone sits dark and silent in my locker.
No messages. No missed calls.
Nothing from the one person I actually want to hear from.
When I finally escape the media circus and head for the parking garage, exhaustion hits me like a freight train. Not the physical kind, I’m used to that. This is deeper. The kind that comes from pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.
My truck sits alone on the third level, exactly where I left it. I’m halfway there when I hear footsteps behind me.
“Carter.”
I freeze. God, that voice.
I turn slowly, and there she is. Olivia stands a few feet away, tablet clutched to her chest like armor. She’s still in her work clothes, dark jeans and a Dragons pullover, her hair pulled back in a ponytail that makes my fingers itch to pull it loose.
“Olivia.” Her name comes out rougher than I intend. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see you.” She takes a step closer, then stops, maintaining distance. Always maintaining distance now. “That was an incredible game.”
“Thanks.”
Silence stretches between us, heavy with everything we’re not saying.
“Is that all?” I ask when I can’t take it anymore. “You came all the way out here to congratulate me on a win?”
“No.” She swallows hard. “I came to apologize.”
My heart kicks. “For what?”
“For ending things the way I did. For not giving you a chance to—” She stops, shaking her head. “For being a coward.”
“You’re not a coward.”
“Yes, I am.” Her voice cracks slightly. “I got scared, and I ran. I convinced myself that protecting my career was more important than taking a risk on something real. And I was wrong.”
Hope flares in my chest, dangerous and intoxicating. “Olivia—”
“Let me finish.” She moves closer, and now I can see the tears shining in her eyes. “These past three days have been hell. I’ve tried to convince myself that we made the right choice. That keeping distance was smart. Professional and oh so safe.”
“But?”
“But I can’t stop thinking about you.” The words rush out like a confession. “I can’t stop replaying that night at your house. Theway you looked at me. The way you made me feel like I mattered more than my job title or my reputation or any of the things I’ve been so desperate to protect.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides, fighting the urge to reach for her. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying Ralph was right. This is worth the risk.” She closes the remaining distance between us, and suddenly we’re inches apart. “You’re worth the risk.”
“Olivia—”
“I know it’s complicated. I know people are going to talk. I know Mark might fire me and the press might crucify us both.” She reaches up, cupping my face with trembling hands. “But I don’t care anymore. Because losing you is worse than anything they can throw at us.”
Something inside me breaks open. “You mean that?”
