Chapter Fourteen Carter
Chapter Fourteen
Carter
The game ends with confetti raining down and my teammates mobbing me on the field. We won. Another W in what might be my final season. The crowd roars, cameras flash, and I’m supposed to feel victorious.
Instead, I feel hollow.
Derek slaps my shoulder pad hard enough to rattle my bones. “Hell of a game, Storm! That throw in the fourth quarter was insane!”
“Thanks.” The word comes out flat.
He frowns, studying my face. “You, okay?”
“Yeah. Just tired.”
It’s a lie, and we both know it. But Derek’s smart enough not to push.
The locker room is chaos with music blasting, guys celebrating, and Coach giving his usual post-game speech about execution and heart. I go through the motions. Shower. Dress. Answer questions from reporters about trusting my instincts and believing in my teammates.
All the while, my phone sits dark and silent in my locker.
No messages. No missed calls.
Nothing from the one person I actually want to hear from.
When I finally escape the media circus and head for the parking garage, exhaustion hits me like a freight train. Not the physical kind, I’m used to that. This is deeper. The kind that comes from pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.
My truck sits alone on the third level, exactly where I left it. I’m halfway there when I hear footsteps behind me.
“Carter.”
I freeze. God, that voice.
I turn slowly, and there she is. Olivia stands a few feet away, tablet clutched to her chest like armor. She’s still in her work clothes, dark jeans and a Dragons pullover, her hair pulled back in a ponytail that makes my fingers itch to pull it loose.
“Olivia.” Her name comes out rougher than I intend. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see you.” She takes a step closer, then stops, maintaining distance. Always maintaining distance now. “That was an incredible game.”
“Thanks.”
Silence stretches between us, heavy with everything we’re not saying.
“Is that all?” I ask when I can’t take it anymore. “You came all the way out here to congratulate me on a win?”
“No.” She swallows hard. “I came to apologize.”
My heart kicks. “For what?”
“For ending things the way I did. For not giving you a chance to—” She stops, shaking her head. “For being a coward.”
“You’re not a coward.”
“Yes, I am.” Her voice cracks slightly. “I got scared, and I ran. I convinced myself that protecting my career was more important than taking a risk on something real. And I was wrong.”
Hope flares in my chest, dangerous and intoxicating. “Olivia—”
“Let me finish.” She moves closer, and now I can see the tears shining in her eyes. “These past three days have been hell. I’ve tried to convince myself that we made the right choice. That keeping distance was smart. Professional and oh so safe.”
“But?”
“But I can’t stop thinking about you.” The words rush out like a confession. “I can’t stop replaying that night at your house. The way you looked at me. The way you made me feel like I mattered more than my job title or my reputation or any of the things I’ve been so desperate to protect.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides, fighting the urge to reach for her. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying Ralph was right. This is worth the risk.” She closes the remaining distance between us, and suddenly we’re inches apart. “You’re worth the risk.”
“Olivia—”
“I know it’s complicated. I know people are going to talk. I know Mark might fire me and the press might crucify us both.” She reaches up, cupping my face with trembling hands. “But I don’t care anymore. Because losing you is worse than anything they can throw at us.”
Something inside me breaks open. “You mean that?”
“Yes.” Tears spill over now, tracking down her cheeks. “I’m terrified, Carter. But I’m more terrified of walking away from you again.”
I pull her into my arms, crushing her against my chest, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and perfume and something that’s just her. She wraps her arms around my waist, holding on like I’m the only solid thing in her world.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur against her hair. “I’ve got you, and I’m not letting go.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” I pull back just enough to look at her. “But we do this right. No more hiding. No more pretending we’re just colleagues. We tell Mark together. We face whatever comes together.”
Fear flickers across her face, but she nods. “Okay.”
“You’re sure? Because once we do this, there’s no going back.”
“I don’t want to go back.” Her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling in my shirt. “I want to go forward. With you.”
I kiss her then, right there in the parking garage where anyone could see. Deep and slow and claiming, pouring three days of misery and longing into the press of my mouth against hers.
She kisses me back with the same desperate hunger, her body melting into mine like she was made to fit there.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“We should probably talk to Mark,” she says, though she doesn’t let go of me.
“Tomorrow.” I rest my forehead against hers. “Tonight, I just want to be with you. No work. No stress. Just us.”
“Your place?”
“Yeah.” I press a kiss to her temple. “Come home with me.”
She pulls back slightly, searching my face. “Home?”
“Yeah.” The word feels right. True. “Home, Olivia. That’s what it is when you’re there.”
More tears spill over, but she’s smiling now. “You’re going to make me cry in a parking garage.”
“Better than making you cry in my foyer.” I wipe her tears away with my thumbs. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before someone spots us and we end up trending again.”
She laughs, the sound watery but genuine. “Too late. We’re definitely trending after that kiss.”
I glance up and spot a security camera pointed right at us. “Shit.”
“Yeah.” But she doesn’t look worried. She looks… free. “Guess we’re doing this the hard way.”
“Is there any other way?”
“With you? Apparently not.” She takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. “Come on, Storm. Take me home.”
We walk to my truck hand in hand, no longer hiding. And when I open the passenger door for her and she slides in with a smile that lights up her whole face, I know with absolute certainty:
Whatever comes next, the media storm, Mark’s reaction, the whispers and speculation, it’ll be worth it.
Because I’ve got Olivia Rivers back in my life.
And this time, I’m not letting her go.
The drive to my house is quiet, but it’s a comfortable silence. Olivia’s hand rests on the center console, and I keep mine over it, thumb tracing circles on her palm.
“What are you thinking?” I ask when we’re halfway there.
“That I should probably call Mark tonight. Get ahead of this before the security footage leaks.”
“We’ll call him together.” I squeeze her hand. “First thing tomorrow morning.”
“He’s going to be furious.”
“Probably.” I glance at her. “But he’ll get over it. And if he doesn’t, we’ll deal with it.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Because it is.” I turn onto my street. “We’re together. We care about each other. Everything else is just noise.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “What if he fires me?”
“Then you’ll find another job. A better one. You’re brilliant, Olivia. Any team would be lucky to have you.” I pull through my gates and park in the driveway. “But I don’t think he will. Mark’s a businessman. He’ll want to control the narrative. Make it work in the team’s favor.”
“You really believe that?”
“I do.” I kill the engine and turn to face her. “And even if I’m wrong, we’ll figure it out. Together.”
She stares at me for a long moment, then leans over and kisses me. Soft. Sweet. Full of promise.
“Thank you,” she whispers against my lips.
“For what?”
“For making me brave enough to take this risk.”
I cup her face, holding her gaze. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You were always brave, Olivia. You just needed to remember it.”
She kisses me again, deeper this time, and I lose myself in the taste of her. When she finally pulls back, her eyes are dark with want.
“Take me inside, Carter.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
We barely make it through the front door before my mouth is on hers again. She kisses me back with the same desperate hunger, hands already working the buttons on my shirt.
“Upstairs,” I manage between kisses.
“Too far.”
She’s right. I back her against the wall in the foyer, hands sliding under her pullover, feeling the warm silk of her skin. She gasps against my mouth, arching into my touch.
“Carter—”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve changed my mind. Bedroom. Now.”
I lift her, her legs wrap around my waist, and carry her up the stairs. She kisses my neck, my jaw, anywhere she can reach, and by the time we make it to my room, I’m ready to explode.
I lay her on the bed, and she looks up at me with so much trust, so much want, it nearly brings me to my knees.
“I love you,” I say. The words slip out before I can stop them, raw and honest and terrifying.
Her eyes widen. “Carter—”
“I know it’s fast. I know we’re still figuring this out. But I need you to know.” I brush her hair back from her face. “I love you, Olivia. And whatever happens tomorrow, it will not change.”
Tears fill her eyes again, but she’s smiling. “I love you too.”
The words hit me like a freight train they are overwhelming and perfect and everything I didn’t know I needed.
I kiss her then, pouring everything I feel into it. My hands find the hem of her pullover, and she lifts her arms, letting me pull it over her head. The sight of her in just her bra and jeans steals my breath.
“You’re staring,” she whispers, but there’s heat in her voice.
“Can’t help it.” I trail kisses down her neck, across her collarbone. “You’re perfect.”
Her hands push my shirt off my shoulders, nails dragging lightly down my chest. I hiss at the contact, and she smiles against my mouth.
“Your turn to lose some clothes, Storm.”
I stand long enough to strip off my jeans, and when I look back at her, she’s working on her own. I help her with the zipper, sliding the denim down her legs, revealing black lace that makes my mouth go dry.
“Jesus, Olivia.”
She reaches behind her back, unhooking her bra, and lets it fall away. I’m on her in an instant, mouth finding her breast, tongue circling her nipple until she’s gasping my name.
“Carter, please—”
“Tell me what you need.” I kiss my way down her stomach, fingers hooking in the lace at her hips.
“You. I need you.”
I pull the lace down slowly, savoring every inch of skin revealed. When she’s finally bare beneath me, I take a moment just to look at her. Flushed skin. Dark eyes. Chest rising and falling with quick breaths.
I kiss her deeply as my hand slides between her thighs, finding her wet and ready. She moans into my mouth, hips rising to meet my touch. I work her slowly, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her grip my shoulders harder.
“Carter, I need—” She breaks off with a cry as I slide two fingers inside her.
“This?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
I watch her face as I move, mesmerized by every expression that crosses it. When I feel her start to tighten around my fingers, I slow down, drawing it out.
“Don’t tease,” she pants.
“Not teasing. Just making sure you’re ready.”
I shed my boxers and settle between her thighs, the tip of my cock pressing against her entrance. Our eyes lock, and in that moment, everything else falls away. It’s just us. Just this.
I push inside slowly, inch by inch, and the feel of her wrapped around me is almost too much. She’s tight, hot and perfect, and I have to pause, forehead pressed to hers, just to keep from losing control.
“Okay?” I manage.
“More than okay.” She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. “Move, Carter.”
I start slow, savoring every stroke, every gasp and moan that falls from her lips. But when she digs her nails into my back and demands “harder,” I give her what she needs.
The rhythm builds between us, urgent and desperate. I slide my hand between our bodies, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, and she cries out.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her ear. “Let go for me.”
Her body tightens around me, and I feel her shatter, my name a broken prayer on her lips. The sight of her coming undone beneath me pushes me over the edge. I bury myself deep one last time, groaning as I empty myself inside her.
We stay like that for a long moment, tangled together, breathing hard, hearts racing in sync.
When I finally pull back to look at her, she’s smiling, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with tears and something that looks a lot like happiness.
Rolling to the side, I pull her with me so she’s draped across my chest. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin, and I thread mine through her hair.
“No regrets?” I ask quietly.
“None.” She tilts her head up to look at me. “You?”
“Not a single one.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Olivia.”
“I love you too.”
And when we come together again, skin to skin, it’s not just physical. It’s a choice to face whatever comes next together.
Later, we lie tangled in my sheets, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare shoulder.
“What do you think Mark’s going to say?” she asks quietly.
“Honestly? I think he’s going to yell. A lot.”
She laughs softly. “That’s comforting.”
“But then he’ll calm down and realize this is actually good for the team.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Think about it. The star quarterback falls for the smart, beautiful PR specialist. It’s a great story.”
“Or a PR nightmare.”
“Only if we let it be.” I tilt her chin up so I can see her face. “We control the narrative, Olivia. We tell our story. On our terms.”
She studies me for a moment, then nods. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She shifts, propping herself up on one elbow. “We do this together. No more running. No more hiding.”
“No more running,” I agree. “Starting tomorrow.”
“Starting tomorrow,” she echoes. Then she kisses me, slow and sweet. “But tonight?”
“Tonight, we’re just us.”
“Good.” She settles back against my chest, her breath warm on my skin. “Because I’m not ready to share you with the world yet.”
I tighten my arms around her, holding her close. “Neither am I.”
Outside, the city lights glow through the window. Inside, it’s just us.
And whatever tomorrow brings, we’ll face it the same way.
Side by side.
Because that’s what love is. Taking the risk. Making the choice. Fighting for the person who makes you feel alive.
And Olivia Rivers makes me feel more alive than I have in years.
So, bring on the media storm. Bring on Mark’s fury and whatever the world wants to throw at us, we are ready.