“But itisa terrible idea,” I continue. “Your career is everything. My job is everything. And if we cross this line, we’re risking all of it. For what? A fling? A few stolen moments before reality catches up?”
“Or,” Carter says quietly, “for something real.”
My breath catches. “Carter—”
“You think I don’t know the risks?” He leans forward, voice rough. “You think I haven’t spent every minute since last night trying to talk myself out of this? But here’s the thing, Olivia. I’m thirty-seven years old. I’ve spent my entire life playing it safe, following the rules, being the guy everyone expects me to be. And where has it gotten me? Alone in a big house with a career that’s ending and no idea what comes next.”
His hand crosses the table, palm up, an invitation.
“Then you walked into that police station,” he continues. “Sharp, fearless, completely unimpressed by me. And for the first time in years, I felt… awake. Like maybe there’s more to life than touchdowns and headlines.”
I stare at his hand, my heart hammering. “This is crazy.”
“Yeah.”
“We could lose everything.”
“I know.”
“So why are you still asking?”
His smile is small, sad, and heartbreakingly honest. “Because losing you feels worse.”
My hand moves before my brain catches up, fingers sliding into his. The contact is electric, grounding and terrifying all at once.
“I can’t promise this will work,” I say softly.
“I’m not asking for promises.”
“What are you asking for?”
He squeezes my hand gently. “A chance. That’s all. Just… give me a chance to show you that this is worth the risk.”
The waiter appears, saving me from having to answer. We order quickly—pasta for me, steak for him, the same as last time, and when he leaves, Carter doesn’t let go of my hand.
“Tell me something,” he says. “Something real. Not PR, not work. Just you.”
I take a breath, searching for words. “I’m scared all the time. That I’m not good enough. That people only see me as the model who got lucky, not someone who actually earned this job. And being with you, being seen with you, it makes that fear louder.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone will think I’m using you. That I slept my way into relevance.” The words taste bitter. “And the worst part? Part of me wonders if they’d be right.”
Carter’s grip tightens. “They wouldn’t be. You’re brilliant at what you do, Olivia. You saved my ass when I needed it most, and you did it because you’re damn good at your job. Not because of who I am.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” His voice is firm, certain. “And anyone who can’t see it doesn’t matter.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, unexpected and unwelcome. I blink them back. “Your turn. Tell me something real.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. “I’m terrified of what comes after football. Everyone keeps asking me what’s next, and I have no idea. I don’t know who I am without this game. I don’t know if there’s anything left of me that’s worth knowing.”
“Carter—”
“And meeting you—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “You make me want to figure it out. Make me think that maybe there’s a version of my life where I’m more than just a quarterback. Where I’m someone worth… worth choosing.”
The vulnerability in his voice cracks something open inside me.
