“Well, get some rest before the game.”
I leave her office on shaky legs. I make it to the elevator before pulling out my phone.
There's a text from Liam, sent twenty minutes ago.Last night was incredible. This morning was even better. Can't stop thinking about you.
My heart does somersaults in my chest. I lean against the elevator wall, staring at the message.Dear God, what did I get myself into?
But even as panic rises, my body is humming with awareness. With memory. With want.
I type back:Had a great time too. Good luck at morning skate.
The elevator doors open on my floor, and I step out into the PR department's open workspace. Eliana is at her desk, and she immediately looks up when I enter.
Then she whistles. “Well, well, well. Look who's getting the full romantic treatment.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
She gestures toward my office, and I follow her gaze to see a massive arrangement of roses sitting on my desk. At least two dozen, deep red and lush, in an expensive crystal vase.
“Someone works fast,” Eliana says, grinning. “Must be nice being one of the beautiful ones. You get hit on immediately.”
I force a laugh that sounds hollow to my own ears. “It's probably someone trying to butter up the new PR person.”
“Uh huh. Sure.” She winks. “Well, whoever he is, he's got good taste. Those are gorgeous.”
I make my way to my office on autopilot, closing the door behind me. My hands are shaking as I reach for the small card tucked among the roses.
What if someone recognizes Liam's handwriting? What if this gets traced back to him?
I pull out the card. It's not signed. Just a simple hand-drawn heart.
Relief floods through me so intensely that I have to sit down. He was careful and smart. But sending me flowers is a problem. They're too much, too noticeable. Everyone in the office has seen them. Eliana is already speculating.
I touch one of the soft petals, and despite my anxiety, warmth spreads through my chest. He sent me flowers. The morning after.
Like I mean a lot to him.
The thought terrifies me.
I'm frightened by the intensity of what I'm feeling. How I've been completely unable to stay away from him, no matter how many logical reasons I list. How much headspace he's taken up in my mind.
This is exactly what I was afraid of. Losing myself. Losing control. Becoming someone who makes decisions based on feelings instead of logic.
I stare at the roses, at that simple hand-drawn heart, and make a decision.
There’s no point in torturing myself. I can't stay away. That much is clear. Every time I try to push him back, I just end up running to him again. So I'll have to be very careful instead.
Keep it secret and contained. Maybe this stupid attraction will burn out. Maybe if I just let it run its course, the intensity will fade, and I can go back to being Avery, the professional.
It has to burn out eventually. All chemistry does.
No one can know. Not Jennifer, not my team, and not his teammates
I'll manage this like I manage everything else. With careful planning and strict boundaries.
My phone buzzes with an email from a reporter at ESPN requesting comment about the accident. Then another from the New York Post. Then Sports Illustrated.
I spend the next three hours fielding media requests, sending out the official statement, and monitoring social media. The story is trending, and the narrative is shifting from ‘Nova's reckless behavior’ to ‘Nova's lucky escape.’
