Without a word, he pushes past the chaos and walks straight to me. One arm comes around my shoulders, the other shields my face as the cameras go wild.
“Back off,” he says, voice cool and commanding. “No comment.”
Thereporters scatter just enough for us to slip through. Ash opens the passenger door like a gentleman from another century—quiet, purposeful.
I hesitate for half a second. Smile. Small. Shaky. Like everything’s fine.
But the moment I sit down and the door closes with a soft click, the smile shatters.
Tears spring to my eyes like they’ve been waiting for the sound of silence. My throat clamps shut. My hands fist in my lap.
I can’t breathe around the shame burning in my chest.
The driver’s door opens. Ash slides in, takes one look at me—and his whole face softens.
“Olive…”
I swipe at my cheek. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” he says gently, reaching for my hand. His thumb strokes over my knuckles like he’s trying to soothe the ache right out of me.
“I got suspended,” I whisper.
His jaw tightens. “Olive, I’m so sorry. This isn’t right. You’re an amazing teacher. I never meant for any of this to happen—”
I shake my head in defeat. “I know.”
I look at him then—really look at him. And all I see is regret. And fury. And something else: a promise.
“We’ll fix this,” he says, still holding my hand. “I swear to you, Olive. We’ll fix it.”
He lets go of my hand and starts the car. He doesn’t say where we’re going—just drives, away from the city, the noise, the flashing cameras, and the chaos of swirling headlines.
The car hums beneath us, low and steady. I keep my gaze out the window, watching the buildings thin out and give way to trees andquiet and open sky. The tension in my shoulders slowly starts to unravel. Not gone. Just… dulled.
About forty minutes later, he turns off the main road and pulls into a gravel turnout overlooking a secluded stretch of beach. There’s no one else in sight. Just sand, surf, and the late-morning sun glinting off the water like scattered diamonds.
He kills the engine and turns to me.
“Thought you could use a breather.”
My throat tightens. I nod.
We don’t speak as we get out. The air is crisp and salty and still. Ash leads me down a narrow path to a flat patch of rock that looks out over the water. We sit side by side, legs stretched in front of us, the sound of the ocean filling the silence.
I let it all out in a rush.
“I worked so hard for that job.” My voice wobbles. “I went back to school. I took out loans. I studied my ass off. And now it’s all just—gone.”
A tear slides down my cheek. I swipe it away, frustrated.
Ash doesn’t interrupt. He just listens, jaw tense, eyes fixed on the horizon.
I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as the sound of the ocean rolls over us. The air is cooler now, the wind tangling my hair and brushing against my cheeks like a cold reminder of everything that’s just… changed.
My voice barely rises above the surf. “Maybe this was a mistake.”
Ash shifts beside me.
