Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHLOE
The sound of my front door rattling against its hinges jolts me like a slap.
I don’t even have time to stand before Ollie storms in, cheeks flushed, jaw clenched. He doesn’t knock, doesn’t hesitate, he just fills the space with the sheer force of his presence. My heart stutters.
“Ollie?” My voice is small, cautious.
He doesn’t wait for me to speak again. His voice cuts through the flat like a blade.
“Why didn’t you tell me who your father is?”
The words land like a body check. He doesn’t sit. Doesn’t take his coat off. He just stands there, broad shoulders taut, eyes sharp with something between betrayal and fury.
I rise from the sofa, palms sweating. “I…”
“No.” He slices the air with his hand, shutting me down before I can stumble through excuses. “Don’t. Don’t you dare give me some half-arsed line. Just tell me the truth. Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”
The heat in his voice has me backing up a step, until the back of my knees brush the sofa cushions.
“I didn’t want—”
“Didn’t want what?” His laugh is sharp, humourless. “Didn’t want me to know who you really are? Or didn’t want me to walk away?”
His words are acid, eating straight through me. My chest tightens, but I can’t find a defence fast enough.
He barrels on, relentless. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to find out from Coach?
To stand there like a fucking fool while he tells me you’ve been hiding the biggest secret of all?
I’ve been defending you to the guys. I’ve been telling them you’re not the person who burned Murphy, that you’ve changed.
And all the while you’re,” He breaks off, jaw snapping shut.
His chest heaves. “You’re keeping this from me. ”
Shame crawls hot up my neck. I swallow hard. “I’m not…like that anymore,” I stammer, but it sounds pathetic even to me.
“Christ, Chloe.” His voice cracks, lower now, rougher, but no less furious.
“I’ve been killing myself thinking I finally found someone who doesn’t play games.
Someone who gets it. And now?” He throws his arms wide.
“Now I don’t even know if what we’ve got is real.
Or if I’m just another fucking box ticked on your way to winding up Daddy. ”
“That’s not fair!” I shout, the words bursting out before I can stop them.
“Isn’t it?” His glare burns straight through me. “From where I’m standing, I’m the idiot who let himself fall for a girl who’s been lying by omission since day one.”
My throat goes tight. My hands shake. The silence between us is thick enough to choke on. He paces the room, restless, his trainers thudding against the floor. Then, with a sharp inhale, he strides toward the door.
The sight of it, his hand reaching for the handle, his back turned, ready to walk out, splinters something in me.
“Ollie, please,” I choke, stumbling forward. My voice breaks on the word.
He freezes but doesn’t turn. “Maybe this was a mistake,” he mutters.
The bottom drops out of my stomach. “Don’t say that.”
“I don’t want to!” he snaps, spinning on me, eyes blazing. “But I don’t know how to do this, Chloe. How am I supposed to trust you when you couldn’t trust me with the truth?”
His words rip through me. And then the dam inside me bursts.
“I didn’t tell you because I’ve spent my entire life being judged for something I can’t change!” My voice is ragged, desperate.
He stills, staring at me, confusion flickering under his fury.
“You don’t get it,” I press on, hands trembling.
“My entire life has been defined by who my dad is. Every friend, every boyfriend, every person I’ve ever tried to get close to, it all came back to him.
To his money. To his power. To what he could do for them.
And when it wasn’t that, it was what I could do to piss him off. ”
Ollie’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t interrupt.
I can’t stop now. The words pour out, jagged and raw.
“At school, no one cared who I was. They cared that I was the sponsor’s daughter.
At university, people lined up to be seen with me, not with me.
And when I thought I’d found someone who actually liked me for me…
” My throat clogs, but I force the words out.
“It turned out to be a dare. A joke. Sleep with the sponsor’s daughter.
Break her heart. Everyone laughed about it behind my back. ”
Ollie’s face shifts, the anger dimming into something else, pain, maybe.
I wrap my arms around myself, like that can hold me together. “So yeah, maybe I didn’t tell you right away. Because I wanted, just once, for someone to look at me and see me. Not his money. Not the club’s strings. Just… Chloe.”
Silence swallows the room. My breath shudders.
Finally, Ollie moves. Slowly, like he’s approaching a wounded animal, he takes a step toward me. His voice is quieter now, but no less raw. “You should’ve told me.”
“I know,” I whisper, tears pricking hot at the corners of my eyes. “I was scared.”
He exhales, dragging both hands through his hair, pacing again but softer now.
“Do you know what it felt like? Standing there while Coach told me? I thought he was going to tell me I was benched. Instead, he tells me the girl I’m…
” He stops himself, shakes his head. “The girl I’m with is the sponsor’s daughter. Do you know how that looks?”
I wince. “Like you’re sleeping your way into favour.”
“Exactly.” His eyes flash with frustration. “I don’t care about that, not really. But the team? The press? They’ll eat me alive. And Murphy? Christ, after what happened with him? He’ll think I’ve lost my mind.”
His words land heavy. Because he’s right.
I swipe at my eyes, voice small. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
He looks at me for a long, hard moment. Then his shoulders drop, tension bleeding out like air from a balloon. “You didn’t just hurt me, Chloe. You scared me.”
That hits deeper than the anger did.
“I’ve been terrified since the second I realised how much I care about you,” he admits, voice rough. “Because if this goes sideways? If you walk away? That’s it for me. I’m done.”
The room blurs. My chest aches. “I’m not walking away.”
“Promise me,” he says, stepping close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. His eyes search mine, desperate, pleading. “Promise me you’re not going to disappear because it gets unpleasant.”
I reach up, trembling, and press my palm to his jaw. His stubble scrapes my skin, grounding me. “I promise.”
For a beat, neither of us move. Then Ollie lets out a shaky laugh, like he’s trying to defuse the tension even as his eyes are still wet. “Christ, you drive me mental, you know that?”
A broken laugh bursts out of me, a kind of half-sob. “Takes one to know one.”
He leans his forehead against mine, his voice barely a whisper. “Don’t ever keep something like that from me again.”
“I won’t,” I breathe. “No more secrets.”
And when he kisses me, slow, deep, nothing like the rushed urgency of before, it feels like forgiveness. Like rebuilding from the wreckage.
We don’t talk for a while after that. We just sit on the sofa, tangled up, the TV flickering in the background but ignored. My head rests on his chest, his fingers stroke lazy circles into my hair, and for the first time since he stormed through the door, I feel like I can breathe.
Eventually, he breaks the silence with a muffled grin. “Next time, remind me to at least make it through a full dinner date before we argue like a married couple.”
I huff a laugh against his shirt. “Next time, remind me to tell you everything before it blows up in my face.”
He tilts my chin up, puppy-soft grin tugging at his mouth. “Deal.”
When I look into his eyes, still rimmed red from anger and fear, I see it. His vulnerability, raw and unguarded. And maybe that’s what makes me fall all over again.
Ollie’s thumb traces along my jaw, and the intensity of his gaze makes my breath catch.
We’ve said the words. Made the promises. But the space between us is still heavy, electric, thrumming with everything we almost lost.
He brushes his lips across mine, it’s tentative, like he’s asking a question.
I answer by kissing him back, softer than before. No hunger, no rush. Just the slow press of lips that says I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.
His hand slides up into my hair, cupping the back of my head. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. “Let me take you to bed,” he murmurs, and it’s not a line. It’s a request.
My chest tightens. “Okay.”
We move slowly down the hall, fingers twined, every step heavy with unspoken things. In my bedroom, the lamplight throws everything in gold. It feels different tonight, like the walls themselves are softer, quieter, holding us in.
Ollie doesn’t touch me right away. He just looks, studying me like he’s trying to memorise every freckle, every flicker of expression.
“You’re sure?” he asks, voice low, rough around the edges.
“Yes.” My throat is tight, but the word comes out steady. “I want this. I want you.”
The way his jaw relaxes, just barely, makes me ache.
When he finally kisses me again, it’s slower than any kiss we’ve shared. His mouth moves gently against mine, coaxing, lingering. My fingers fist in his shirt to anchor myself.
He undresses me piece by piece, unhurried. No tugging or fumbling, just the slow slide of fabric, his knuckles brushing bare skin like he’s savouring the discovery. I shiver under the tenderness of it, goosebumps rising along my arms.
When his shirt comes off, I let my palms roam over the hard planes of his chest, the warmth of his skin under my hands. He shudders, not from lust but something deeper, almost fragile.
The bed dips under our weight as he eases me down, hovering over me but not pressing close. His eyes catch the light, dark with emotion.
“Chloe,” he whispers, as if my name is the only thing tethering him. “I need you to know… this isn’t just about tonight. It’s never been about that with you.”
Tears prick, unbidden, at the corners of my eyes. I reach up, brushing a thumb across his cheekbone. “I know. And it’s not for me either.”
The truth hangs between us, raw and delicate.
When he finally lowers himself to me, his body is warm and solid, the weight of him grounding. He kisses me again until I melt into the mattress beneath him.
Everything after that is patient. His hands map my skin with a kind of awe, not possession. Every touch feels like a promise, every kiss like an apology, every sigh like relief.
I lose myself in it, not the urgency of wanting, but the quiet miracle of being seen. Every insecurity, every scar, every hidden truth laid bare and still met with his steady tenderness.
When we come together, it’s unhurried. His forehead pressed to mine, our breaths tangled, our eyes open. It feels less like combustion and more like homecoming. Like fitting two jagged pieces of glass together and finding, somehow, they match.
And when it’s over, when we’re both trembling and quiet in the soft aftermath, Ollie gathers me against his chest. His arms wrap around me with a fierce protectiveness that makes my heart ache.
“Don’t ever doubt this,” he murmurs into my hair. “No matter what anyone says. You and me, yeah?”
My throat burns, but I manage a nod against his chest. “You and me.”
The last thing I feel before sleep pulls me under is the steady beat of his heart under my ear, strong, certain, and unrelenting.