Hell no. Could be dangerous.
What if they really know something?
Then we go together. I’m not letting you walk into something alone.
Carter, we’re supposed to be taking space.
Fuck space. Someone’s reaching out with information that could clear your name. I’m going with you. End of discussion.
Despite everything, I smile. Because that’s Carter, he’s protective and stubborn. Unwilling to let me face anything alone.
Okay. Your place tomorrow at 9?
I’ll pick you up at 8:30. We’ll grab breakfast first.8:30, Olivia. Don’t argue.
I set the phone down, something like hope stirring in my chest for the first time since this morning.
Maybe Maya’s right. Maybe I am being an idiot.
The answer isn’t pushing Carter away.
Maybe it’s holding on tighter and fighting for what we have.
Because despite everything, the scandal, the administrative leave, the hateful comments, one thing is crystal clear.
I don’t want to lose him.
And tomorrow, I’m going to start figuring out how to make this right.
Chapter Eighteen
Carter
I’m at Olivia’s apartment at eight twenty-five.
Couldn’t help myself. Spent the entire night tossing and turning, thinking about that message, about her, about everything that’s gone wrong in the past twenty-four hours.
Derek came over like he promised, brought whiskey, and tried to talk sense into me. Told me to let her have her space. To focus on getting back on the field. To remember women come and go but football is forever.
I told him to get the fuck out.
He left the whiskey.
Now I’m standing outside Olivia’s door, coffee in one hand, a bag of pastries from her favorite bakery in the other, trying to figure out how to do this. How to give her space while also refusing to let her face this alone.
The door opens before I can knock.
Olivia stands there in jeans and a sweater, hair pulled back, face bare of makeup. She looks exhausted and yet beautiful. She didn’t sleep any better than I did.
“You’re early,” she says softly.
“I know.” I hold up the coffee. “Brought breakfast.”
Something flickers in her eyes, gratitude, maybe, or relief? She steps aside, letting me in.
Her apartment looks the same as it did last night, but somehow different. Cleaner, if that’s possible.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she says, taking the coffee I offer her.
