Chapter 28 Oliver
OLIVER
Ididn’t go home right away.
I sat in my truck in the back lot with the engine off, my hoodie pulled over my head and the windows cracked enough to keep the heat from suffocating me. I didn’t check my phone. I didn’t move. I let my head fall back against the seat and stared at the ceiling.
Everything felt slow. Not weak, not broken—just slowed down like my body had decided to process everything at half-speed.
I could still feel the residual stickiness from the monitor electrodes on my skin.
Still hear the click of the wires being detached.
Still hear her voice, steady and careful, telling me I’d done the right thing.
It didn’t feel like I had.
I ran both hands down my face and rested them on my chest, right over the spot that had gone tight earlier in the day. It didn’t hurt now. It felt hollow. My sister’s hurtful words, the ones she said when we fought, rang true. You’re going to kill yourself, and you don’t even care.
I hated that Sloane saw it. I hated that she had to kneel next to me in a goddamn closet and talk me down from shaking so hard I couldn’t speak. But I hated more how much worse it would’ve been if she hadn’t found me. If she hadn’t said my name the way she did. If she hadn’t stayed.
I didn’t want to go home. But I also couldn’t sit in the lot all night.
When I finally started the engine, it was muscle memory. Drive. Park. Keys in the bowl. Shoes off by the door. I dropped my gym bag on the floor and stood in the dark of my kitchen without turning on the light.
I hadn’t eaten. I wasn’t hungry.
I walked to the bathroom and stripped down, checking my chest in the mirror. I pressed my fingers to my sternum and took a breath. It didn’t catch. That was something. The cold tile under my feet grounded me a little. But it didn’t stop the knot from pulling tighter in my gut.
I turned the shower on and stepped under the water, not because I needed it but because I didn’t know what else to do. I let the water hit my shoulders and leaned against the wall, eyes shut.
Sloane had told them the truth but not all of it.
She didn’t sell me out. She didn’t label it panic. She didn’t write me off as weak or unstable or unfit to play. She gave me cover I didn’t deserve and probably wouldn’t ever earn. And I didn’t know how to handle that.
Because I couldn’t promise her it wouldn’t happen again.
I stayed in the shower too long. My skin went numb, and I still didn’t feel steady when I got out. I pulled on sweats, dried my hair, and sat on the edge of my bed with my phone in my hand for a full minute before unlocking it.
Nothing from anyone but a meme in the group chat and a thumbs-up from Jordan.
Sloane hadn’t texted. She’d already said what she needed to say.
But I wanted more. Not because I deserved it. But because she made me feel like I wasn’t losing everything all at once.
I opened a blank message, typed her name, and stared at the cursor blinking. I didn’t know what I was trying to say. Thanks didn’t feel right. I’m sorry felt worse. I erased the whole thing and threw my phone on the pillow.
I laid back and stared at the ceiling.
She said I wasn’t weak. She said I let her help and that mattered. But all I could hear in my head was the silence in the room when Mac looked at me like a liability. Like a problem to be solved instead of a person with something left to give.
I didn’t want to be done. I wasn’t ready for that, but I also couldn’t go back to pretending nothing was wrong.
My chest rose on another inhale. I counted it. One. Two. Three.
If I kept my heart rate down tonight, I could show up tomorrow and pass her test. If I passed the test, I’d be cleared. And if I got cleared, maybe everything wouldn’t slip away.
That was all I had for now.
Breathe. Sleep. Show up. My heart rate was steady, strong, like nothing happened at all. It was bullshit how my body betrayed me like this, and I didn’t know how much longer I could play this game. Tortured thoughts crossed my mind as I drifted in and out of sleep.
But then an hour or two later, I stirred. I didn’t hear the knock at first. Thought I imagined it. I got up and went to the door.
She stood there—hood up, cheeks flushed, eyes tired in a way I hadn’t seen all season.
Her hair was pulled back loosely, pieces slipping out like she’d tried to fix it and gave up.
She looked like she hadn’t stopped moving since I left the facility.
And somehow, she still looked like the only thing that made sense.
“Hi,” she said, voice low.
That one word hit harder than anything anyone had said to me all day. I stepped back, letting her in without asking why she came. I didn’t need her to say it.
She walked in like she’d done it a hundred times before. But her choosing to be here felt different now. The air shifted. Not in a dramatic way, just heavy, like we both knew exactly what today had cost and we were still standing in it.
She set her water bottle on the counter. I didn’t offer her anything. I didn’t know what would help. She looked around the space like she was checking for signs of damage. Her eyes finally landed on me.
“You look better than you did earlier. Your color is back, not as flushed and sweaty” she said.
I ran a hand through my hair. “Still feels like shit.”
“Good. That means your body hasn’t lied to you yet.”
She didn’t smile. She wasn’t here to coddle me. That made it easier, somehow.
I leaned against the wall across from her and crossed my arms. I wanted to pull her into me, but she kept her distance. Was it because she saw me differently? My muscles tensed, preparing for the worst. She came to end this because I was weak, because I was a liability.
For a few seconds, neither of us said anything. Just stood there, a few feet apart, not touching, not pushing. I should’ve asked how she was holding up. I should’ve said something to make this less heavy. But I couldn’t. I was afraid of talking.
“What you did today,” she said, “it doesn’t erase anything you’ve built. You’re still the same person. The same player. The same man I know.”
My chest tightened again, not painfully but enough to have me clear my throat and look away. That sounded like pity in her voice. “You keep saying that like it’s true. It’s not true, Sloane. Look, I’m tired,” I said, my voice scratchy from exhaustion.
“Would you look at me, please?”
She stepped forward once, slow. Close enough that I could smell her shampoo, sense her warmth. My hands fisted at my sides, clenching so I wouldn’t touch her. With a long breath, I faced her, and the breath was knocked out of me.
She looked at me like she cared for me, and I had no idea what to do with that. I didn’t deserve it.
“I...I need to be with you tonight,” she whispered. She reached out and took my hand, unclenching my fingers and intertwining them with her. “Can I stay here with you? If you want space, I’ll give it to you, but I really hope you don’t.”
I chewed my cheek, torn between pushing her away and sinking into her. God, I wanted her. I wanted her so badly, and when she trailed a finger over my wrist and my pulse settled, I smiled. “Did you know that despite being excited to see you, you help settle my pulse?”
Her lips curved up, eyes sparkling. “Did you know despite also getting excited and nervous to see you, I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you?”
“Sloane,” I said, my voice barely more than a breath.
She didn’t answer, but she didn’t look away.
I reached for her slowly, giving her time to stop me if she needed to.
When she didn’t move, I pulled her toward me and wrapped my arms around her.
She pressed her face into my chest like it was the only place she trusted herself to land.
I kept one hand cradling the back of her head, the other pressed gently against her spine.
Her body was warm through the soft cotton of her hoodie. My eyes fell closed without thinking.
I didn’t say anything. I held her. My chest rose and fell in rhythm with hers. I could feel how hard I had been holding myself up all day and how quickly the weight shifted now that she was here.
She didn’t speak either. Her hands stayed firm against my back. She wasn’t clinging, but she wasn’t letting go. We stood there for a long time, neither of us moving, neither of us filling the silence.
I rested my chin on top of her head. My throat was tight, but I didn’t try to clear it. There was no pressure to speak, no need to explain anything. Being here, holding her like this, felt better than anything else that had happened in weeks.
Her hand pressed lightly against my ribs. She shifted, then looked up at me. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes searching mine with a kind of focus that made it hard to breathe. She didn’t ask for permission. She didn’t need to.
She leaned in and kissed me once. Soft at first. Intentional. Like she was giving herself time to feel it. She pressed her lips against mine gently, without hesitation, but letting them linger to see what happened next.
I responded just as carefully, brushing my mouth over hers.
Her hands shifted, one lifting to rest against my chest, the other sliding up to my neck.
I let my thumb trace along her jaw as I kissed her again, slower this time.
She tilted her head slightly, adjusting the angle, deepening the connection enough to let it build.
Her lips parted barely, and I followed the invitation. I kept the kiss steady. Not rough, not fast. Just full. Every movement of her mouth against mine told me she was still here, still choosing this.
I tightened my arm around her waist, pulling her a fraction closer. Her body met mine without resistance. Her fingers curled against the back of my neck, and the sound she let out, a sexy little moan, caused heat to stir in my gut.