Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Graham
I send the text before I can overthink it.
Come to my place when you’re done.
A beat of hesitation.
Then—
Please.
I lean back against my car, parked outside the arena, waiting. The press conference is over, the game is done, and I should be exhausted. I am. But exhaustion feels easier when you don’t have to sit in it alone.
A minute passes. Then another.
My phone buzzes.
Okay.
The tightness in my chest eases—just a fraction.
Because she’s coming.
Because after everything—she still chooses me.
When I open the door, she’s standing there, jacket pulled tight around her, hair damp from the misty rain that’s been falling all night. For a second, we just look at each other. No words. No grand gestures. Just a quiet, unspoken acknowledgment of everything this last month has been. Then, finally, I step back.
“Come in,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend.
She does.
And just like that, she’s here.
The space between us disappears.
I don’t cook. Tonight, I don’t even pretend to try.
We sit on my couch with takeout containers of Chinese food, chopsticks abandoned in favor of eating straight from the cartons. Neither of us talks much at first. And I’m okay with that. Because this is what I wanted. Not a conversation about the game. Not a post-mortem of what went wrong. Just her. Here. With me.
She pokes at her lo mein, finally breaking the silence. “Have you slept yet?”
I smirk. “Not yet.”
She huffs. “Shocking.”
I gesture at her carton. “You gonna eat that, or just rearrange it?”
She shoots me a look but takes a bite. I watch her, leaning back, letting the weight of the night settle over me.
Then—
“So,” I say casually, “did you read the contract?”
Anastasia pauses mid-bite, then sets her food down.
“I’m still looking it over,” she admits. “But…” She meets my gaze, something softer behind her eyes. “I’m ready to commit to the team.”
Something warm unfurls in my chest.
“Yeah?” I say, keeping my voice even.
She nods. “Yeah.”
For a second, we just sit there. And then, because I can’t help myself, I smirk. “You realize we’ve done this all backward, right?”
She lifts a brow. “How so?”
I set my container down, shifting toward her. “We’ve spent the night together. We’ve had fights, a full-blown scandal, and a contract negotiation—” I gesture vaguely. “And we haven’t even been on a damn date.”
She lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “That’s… actually a fair point.”
I lean in, my smirk widening. “So, Anastasia Bellows, will you go on a date with me?”
She rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile. “Are you seriously asking me out while we’re sitting here in sweatpants eating lo mein?”
“Damn right I am.” I grin. “Gotta start somewhere.”
She shakes her head, amused. “And if I say no?”
I shrug. “Then I’ll keep asking.”
Anastasia exhales, studying me. Then, finally—she nods.
“Okay.”
Something shifts in the air between us. Something heavier, something deeper, something we’ve both been skirting around but never fully naming. She sets her food aside, pulls her legs up onto the couch, and curls them beneath her.
“I’m in love with you,” I blurt out, unable to keep the words to myself any longer. The feeling that has burrowed itself into my chest finally has a name, and I’ve been too much of a coward to say them sooner.
The words hang in the air, heavy and terrifying and real. I don’t move. I don’t breathe.
Her throat bobs. “It scares me,” she admits, her voice quieter now. “I feel so much for you so quickly, and it’s—” She shakes her head, exhaling sharply. “It’s terrifying to fall this hard for someone I’m still getting to know.”
I watch her, my chest tight, my heart pounding. “I get it,” I say. “But, Ana… we know enough.”
She blinks.
I exhale, shifting forward. “I know the way you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re thinking too hard. I know you talk with your hands when you get excited about something. I know you put everyone else first, even when you shouldn’t. I know you care about this team—about these guys—even when you try to act like it’s just another job.”
I pause.
“I know you.”
Her breath catches.
“And I know what I want.”
She presses her lips together, her heart in her throat. “And what’s that?”
I hold her gaze. “You.”
She swallows, her fingers flexing slightly in her lap.
“Give us a real shot, Anastasia,” I murmur, voice lower now.
I reach for her hand, my fingers brushing over hers, warm, steady, grounding.
“Take me as I am,” I say. “Flaws and all.”
She looks at me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. And then, slowly, carefully, she threads her fingers through mine.
She looks at me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. And then, slowly, carefully, she threads her fingers through mine.
A breath I didn’t realize I was holding slips from my lungs, slow and steady, as I tighten my grip just slightly, grounding myself in the reality of this moment. Of her. Of us.
For the past month, I’ve imagined what it would feel like to have her back in my life. Not just in stolen moments, not just in quiet spaces filled with unspoken tension, but here. Where there’s no pretense, no weight of the past pressing between us. And now, with her fingers tangled in mine, I realize I don’t have to wonder anymore.
She’s here.
And she’s choosing me.
I shift, reaching up with my free hand to brush a loose strand of hair from her face. She doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t flinch. Her eyes search mine, like she’s still trying to make sense of how we got here, how fast it happened, how real it feels.
I tip my head slightly. “Are you sure?”
Her fingers flex against mine, and for a moment, I think she’s going to pull back, retreat into that place she disappears to when things get too big, too much, too overwhelming.
But she doesn’t.
Instead, she exhales slowly and gives me a small, almost shy smile. “No.”
I blink. “No?”
Her lips twitch slightly. “I’m terrified.”
My chest tightens, but I don’t let go. “Of what?”
She hesitates. “Of how much I feel. Of how fast I feel it.”
A slow breath leaves me as I reach up, tracing the edge of her jaw with my thumb, forcing her to look at me.
“Ana,” I murmur, voice steady. “You don’t have to be sure about everything. You just have to be sure about me.”
Her breath stutters, her lips parting slightly.
I lean in, closing the space between us, my forehead pressing lightly against hers.
Her scent surrounds me—something warm and familiar, something uniquely her. I can feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips, her body just slightly tense, like she’s balancing on the edge of a decision that could change everything.
I press my lips to her temple, my voice barely a whisper.
“Give us a real shot, Anastasia.”
She lets out a shaky breath, and then, finally—she nods.
A slow grin tugs at the corner of my mouth, and I pull back just enough to meet her eyes. “That sounded like a yes.”
She huffs a quiet laugh, rolling her eyes. “You’re impossible.”
I smirk, letting my fingers skim along the inside of her wrist, feeling the way her pulse skips beneath my touch. “And yet, here you are.”
Her cheeks flush slightly, and she shakes her head. “You are so damn smug.”
“Can’t help it,” I murmur, my hand cupping the side of her neck, my thumb brushing over her jaw. “I just won something pretty important.”
She tilts her chin, arching a brow. “And what’s that?”
“You,” I say simply.
She doesn’t look away.
She doesn’t pull back.
And then, finally, she whispers, “Yeah.”
A slow, satisfied warmth spreads through my chest.
Because I know what this means.
This isn’t just a moment.
This is us, stepping forward.
I keep my fingers threaded through hers, my thumb tracing absent circles against her palm, as something warm and unfamiliar settles in my chest. It’s not just the relief of having her here—it’s the weight of knowing that she’s choosing to stay. That after everything, she’s willing to give us a real shot.
I tighten my grip slightly. “You sure you’re okay with this?”
Her brow furrows slightly. “With what?”
“With us,” I clarify. “With working for the team while we figure this out.”
She exhales, shifting slightly against the couch. “I mean, we don’t exactly have a handbook for this kind of thing.”
I smirk. “No, we don’t.”
Her lips press together like she’s carefully choosing her words. “It’s new. And it’s not just about us. People are watching you, Graham. Every move you make. And now that our relationship is out in the open, people are going to watch me too.”
I nod. “I know.”
She looks at me, steady. “So promise me something.”
I tilt my head. “Anything.”
She arches a brow. “Keep things professional at work.”
I stare at her for a beat, then smirk. “So no pulling you into my office for midday make-out sessions?”
Her eyes narrow, but there’s a flicker of amusement behind them. “No.”
I exhale dramatically. “Well, there goes that plan.”
She rolls her eyes. “I mean it, Graham. We need boundaries.”
I nod, my smirk softening. “I get it. I’ll be professional.” I squeeze her hand. “Even if you’ll be a constant distraction.”
She laughs under her breath, shaking her head, and I can’t help myself—I shift closer, my free hand trailing along the back of her arm. “Or we could just make things easier and have you move in with me.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Oh, that’s definitely too soon.”
I chuckle. “Just saying—it’d be efficient. We could go to work together, come home together… I could wake up next to you every morning.”
She tilts her chin, giving me a pointed look. “Efficient, huh?”
I grin. “Very.”
She shakes her head, amused. “I think I’ll keep my apartment, thanks.”
“Suit yourself,” I say, leaning back against the couch, smirking. “Fifty bucks says you’ll be living with me in six months.”
She snorts. “You are so sure of yourself.”
I shrug. “I know what I want.”
She holds my gaze for a second too long before glancing at the clock on my wall. “I should go.”
A part of me wants to ask her to stay, to drag her back onto the couch and keep her here. But she’s right—we’re doing this the right way now.
So I nod, standing with her, grabbing her jacket from where she draped it over the back of a chair. “Let me drive you home.”
She shakes her head, slipping her arms into the sleeves. “I have my car at the facility.”
I huff. “Fine. But text me when you get home.”
She smiles. “Yes, Dad.”
I narrow my eyes. “That was unnecessary.”
She grins and steps toward the door, but before she can reach it, I catch her wrist, pulling her back toward me.
She stumbles slightly, landing just inches from me, her breath hitching as I drop my hands to her waist.
“Have dinner with me Friday night,” I murmur.
She blinks, tilting her head. “Is that an order?”
I smirk. “A request. Our first real date.”
She exhales slowly, watching me for a moment. Then, finally, she nods.
“Okay,” she says softly.
Satisfaction curls in my chest as I lean down, brushing a slow, deliberate kiss against the corner of her mouth.
“Good,” I murmur against her skin.
She steps back, her fingers lingering against mine for just a second before she pulls away completely. But before she can turn toward the door, before she can put too much distance between us, I reach for her wrist again, this time with more intent, pulling her flush against me.
Her breath stutters, her hands landing against my chest as I tilt my head down, our faces so close I can feel the warmth of her breath against my lips. Her green eyes flick up to mine, wide and searching, like she knows exactly what’s about to happen but isn’t sure if she’s ready to drown in it.
Too bad.
I am.
I don’t hesitate. I close the space between us, my mouth claiming hers in a way that’s been building since the second she walked through my door. It’s not slow, not careful—it’s heat and longing and something unspoken that’s been sitting between us for far too long.
She exhales a soft, desperate sound against my lips, and it’s all I need. My hands grip her waist, pulling her closer, anchoring her against me as she rises onto her toes, pressing deeper into the kiss like she wants to memorize this moment. Like she wants to let it consume her.
I slide a hand up, fingers threading into her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, to take more—and she lets me. Her hands fist against my shirt, gripping me like she doesn’t want to let go.
Neither do I.
But she’s the one who pulls away first.
She’s breathless, her cheeks flushed, her lips kiss-drunk and swollen as she blinks up at me, trying to pull herself back together.
I smirk, my thumb grazing the edge of her jaw. “Too soon for that too?”
She exhales a laugh, shaking her head slightly before pressing a hand against my chest, gently pushing me back. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Callahan.”
I raise a brow, still catching my breath. “That’s it?”
She grins, stepping toward the door, and throwing me one last look over her shoulder. A look that tells me she’s just as affected as I am.
“That’s it.”
And then she’s gone, leaving me standing there, grinning like a damn fool and already counting down the hours until tomorrow.