Chapter Seventeen Olivia
Chapter Seventeen
Olivia
The silence in my apartment is deafening.
Standing at the window, I watch Carter’s truck pull out of the parking lot, and the urge to run after him nearly brings me to my knees. Every instinct screams at me to call him back, to take it all back, to tell him I didn’t mean it.
But I did mean it.
Sort of.
I don’t know anymore.
My phone sits on the coffee table, screen dark and accusing. I haven’t turned it back on since leaving Mark’s office. Can’t bring myself to face the notifications, the messages, the hateful comments that are probably still multiplying by the second.
Instead, I do what I always do when life gets overwhelming.
I clean.
The apartment is already spotless, but I scrub the kitchen counters anyway. Wipe down surfaces that don’t need wiping. Organize cabinets that are already organized. Anything to keep my hands busy and my mind from spiraling.
It doesn’t work.
Because all I can see is the look on Carter’s face when I asked for space. The way his jaw tightened. The pain in his eyes he tried so hard to hide.
The way he walked away without fighting me on it.
Maybe that’s what hurts most. He just… left. He let me push him away without more of a fight.
Except that’s not fair, and I know it. He offered to fight. Offered to hold a press conference, to defend me publicly, to risk everything for us.
And I told him no.
Because I’m a coward.
A knock on my door makes me jump. For one wild second, I think it’s Carter. That he came back. That he’s going to tell me we’ll figure this out together whether I like it or not.
But when I open the door, it’s not Carter.
It’s my best friend, Maya.
“I brought wine,” she says, holding up two bottles. “And ice cream. And those fancy chocolates you like but claim you don’t eat.”
I burst into tears.
“Oh, honey.” Maya pushes her way inside, setting everything on the counter before pulling me into a fierce hug. “I know. I know.”
Sobbing into her shoulder, I ugly crying in a way I haven’t since my modeling career ended. She just holds me, rubbing my back, making soothing sounds until I finally pull away.
“How did you know?” I manage through hiccups.
“Are you kidding? It’s all over the news.” She guides me to the couch. “Plus, you weren’t answering your phone, which meant either you were dead or having the worst day of your life. And since I have your location, I knew you weren’t dead.”
Despite everything, I laugh. “You tracked my location?”
“Of course I did. That’s what best friends are for.” She heads to the kitchen, grabbing wine glasses. “Now, talk to me. What the hell happened?”
So, I tell her. Everything. The article. The meeting with Mark. The administrative leave. Carter’s offer to hold a press conference. And finally, the break I asked for.
Maya listens without interrupting, pouring wine and handing me a glass. When I finish, she’s quiet for a moment.
“Okay,” she finally says. “I’m going to say something, and you’re going to want to throw that wine in my face. But I’m saying it anyway because I love you.”
“That’s a great start,” I mutter.
“You’re being an idiot.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“An idiot. A self-sabotaging, scared, beautiful idiot.” She takes a sip of her wine. “This man, this incredible, successful, gorgeous man, is willing to put his entire career on the line for you. And you told him to leave.”
“I didn’t tell him to leave. I asked for space.”
“Same thing.” She waves her hand dismissively. “You’re pushing him away because you’re scared. Which, fair. This situation is terrifying. But running from it isn’t going to make it better.”
“I’m not running—”
“Yes, you are.” Her voice softens. “Liv, I’ve known you since college.
I watched you walk away from modeling when that photographer made you feel worthless.
I watched you rebuild yourself into this badass PR specialist who doesn’t take shit from anyone.
And now, the second things get hard, you’re doing it again.
Walking away before someone can hurt you. ”
The words hit too close to home. “That’s not what this is.”
“Isn’t it?” She sets her glass down. “Look, I read the article. I saw what they’re saying about you. And it’s bullshit. Complete and total bullshit. But you know what else it is? Temporary.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do, actually. Because I’ve been on the internet long enough to know that today’s scandal is tomorrow’s forgotten news. People have short attention spans. They’ll move on to the next drama, and you’ll still be here. The question is, will Carter still be here with you?”
I stare into my wine glass. “I can’t ask him to risk everything for me.”
“You’re not asking. He’s offering.” Maya leans forward. “And honestly? If you don’t take him up on it, you’re the biggest idiot I know.”
“Thanks for the support,” I say dryly.
“I am supporting you, by telling you the truth.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You love him, right?”
“Yes.”
“And he loves you?”
“He says he does.”
“Then what the hell are you doing sitting here feeling sorry for yourself?” Her voice is gentle but firm. “Go get your man, Olivia. Before you lose him for real.”
“It’s not that simple—”
“It is that simple. You’re just making it complicated.” She stands, pulling me up with her. “Now, finish that wine, eat some ice cream, and tomorrow morning, you’re going to march over to Carter’s house and tell him you were wrong. Got it?”
“Maya—”
“Got it?” she repeats, more firmly this time.
I nod, even though I’m not sure I can actually do it. “Got it.”
“Good.” She pulls me into another hug. “You deserve to be happy, Liv. Don’t let fear rob you of that.”
After Maya leaves an hour later, after we’ve polished off one bottle of wine and made significant progress on the ice cream, I sit alone with her words echoing in my head.
You’re pushing him away because you’re scared.
She’s right. I know she’s right.
But knowing it and fixing it are two different things.
My phone sits on the coffee table, still dark. I finally pick it up and turn it on.
The notifications come flooding in. Hundreds of them. Text messages, emails, social media alerts. I ignore most of them, scrolling until I find the one I’m looking for.
Carter’s last message, sent twenty minutes ago.
I meant what I said. I’m here whenever you’re ready. I love you.
My chest tightens. I type out a response three different times, deleting it each time.
Finally, I settle on: I love you too. I’m sorry.
I hit send before I can second-guess myself.
Three dots appear immediately.
Don’t be sorry. Just come back to me when you’re ready.
Tears blur my vision. What if I’m never ready?
His response takes longer this time.
Then I’ll wait. Because you’re worth waiting for.
I set the phone down and curl up on the couch, pulling a blanket over myself. The apartment feels too quiet, too empty. Like a part of me is missing.
Because it is.
The part that belongs to Carter.
My phone buzzes again. I expect it to be him, but it’s an unknown number.
Against my better judgment, I open it.
I know who leaked the photos. If you want to clear your name, meet me tomorrow. 10 AM. Joe’s Coffee on Fifth Street. Come alone.
My heart hammers. I stare at the message, trying to decide if it’s legitimate or some kind of trap.
Another message comes through.
I used to work security at the stadium. I know what happened. And I know you didn’t do anything wrong.
I screenshot the messages and, without thinking, send them to Carter.
Just got this. Should I go?
His response is immediate.
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.