Chapter 33 Sloane
SLOANE
Two weeks passed, but it felt like years.
Oliver didn’t play. He suited up. He went through warm-ups.
But his helmet never left the sideline, and his cleats never crossed the sidelines after kickoff.
He stayed ready. Focused. Calm on the outside.
I knew better. I knew what it cost him to stand there with his arms crossed while someone else took his spot.
I knew because every time I looked up from the medical tablet, he was already looking at me.
He followed the protocol without argument.
No pushing, no skipped readings, no late arrivals.
His heart rate stayed within expected range.
No new spikes. No episodes. William kept detailed notes, cross-referencing telemetry with his blood pressure and sleep logs.
The data was clean. His body was cooperating—for now.
And still, every time I saw him on the screen, I tracked his breathing without meaning to.
He made the call early. Told Mac and Booth in private that he’d finish the season on medication and get the ablation in the offseason if warranted.
The staff respected his choice, no one quite agreeing or disagreeing because we all knew the reality.
He could sit out the rest of the season and could get replaced.
That was life, and Oliver made his choice.
We won the first game without him. Lost the second in overtime.
He didn't speak much on the flight home or in the locker room. But he showed up for recovery, for meetings, for the guys. He stayed in it. Hung out a lot of Noah. I didn’t know if that made it better or worse.
Watching him pour himself into the routine like he wasn’t unraveling underneath.
I worked both games. Sat through every sideline meeting.
Ran hydration tracking and post-game data for every player.
Ivy watched me more than usual but never said anything.
William kept his updates clinical. I told myself I was holding the line.
I reminded myself that no one knew. And yet, every time Oliver walked past me without speaking, it felt like a fracture deepening beneath the surface.
This man said he loved me. No one… no one besides family had ever said they loved me. I was too focused, too serious, too uptight. To receive Oliver’s affection was a gift, and I hadn’t said it back, mainly out of fear, but I felt it in every conversation we had.
While we remained professional at work, we spent every night together.
We’d leave work casually, where he’d meet me in my office and he’d walk me to my car, then we’d meet up at either one of our places.
We’d watch shows, talk about life goals like having kids and moving into a house with a huge backyard, and he even got to meet my brother through FaceTime.
Things were… good.
For once, there was no dread sitting under my skin, no unread reports waiting to ruin my day. Oliver was cleared to return to the game in four days. His numbers held steady. His stress index had actually dropped.
Then I looked up and saw him standing in my doorway.
“Hey,” Oliver said, leaning against the frame with a smirk I knew far too well. His hair fell over his forehead, and his damn dimples popped enough to signal trouble. Those dimples were dangerous, and he knew it.
I raised a brow. “Hi, Oliver.”
I crossed one leg over the other and set my tablet down on the desk. “I don’t believe we have a session scheduled, do we?”
He chuckled and pushed off the door, shutting it behind him with one hand. The soft click of the lock echoed a little too loud. “No one’s here. We had off today. Yet where does my girlfriend spend all her time?”
“Catching up,” I said, heart skipping as he came closer. “What is this look on your face? Why do you look ornery?”
“Ornery?” He laughed louder and stepped into my space, eyes burning with heat and challenge. “Are you gonna spank me to punish me?”
“What has gotten into you?”
He reached for my hand. Then he picked me up from my chair like it took no effort and set me gently on the edge of the desk. I gasped, more from surprise than anything else.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I said, trying not to smile.
His hands settled on my thighs, firm and warm. “I’ve missed you.”
“I saw you last night. And this morning.” I sucked in a breath as he stared up at me with so much awe and love. My heart skipped a beat again—I loved this man. I wanted to tell him that, but fear held me back.
“Not like this,” he murmured, dragging his fingers up the outside of my thigh, beneath the hem of my skirt. “Not in your element. Not when you’re Docter Mercer and so fucking brilliant and sexy and smart. Have you heard of competence porn?”
“Y-yes, of course I have.” I leaned back onto my desk, very aware that his hands trailed up my thighs and my skirt kept pushing up.
“Seeing you in your element is fucking sexy.” He kissed my ankle and brushed his hair off his face. “Watching you talk to the guys and help them help themselves, is such a turn-on. You are fucking fire.”
“You’re not supposed to talk to me like this in here,” I whispered but not with much effort. This was intoxicating. “Oliver…”
He kissed the inside of my knee, slow, deliberate. Then he moved up. “Tell me to stop.”
I didn’t.
His lips moved higher. “That’s what I thought, honey. Let me taste how brilliant you are.”
I gripped the edge of the desk, my breath catching as he kissed again, higher still. His hands parted my knees with enough pressure to make me go still.
“Are you going to be good?” I asked.
He smiled up at me. “Not even a little.”
He slid my skirt higher and pushed aside my underwear. His mouth replaced his hands, and I let my head fall back. No one was here. The door was locked, and I needed this.
I needed him.
I bit my lip, hard, to keep quiet. But he didn’t make it easy. His tongue moved with slow precision, his fingers anchoring my thighs, keeping me open for him. When he added his hand, I gripped the back of his head and whispered his name. Over and over.
I came hard, shaking against him, legs tightening around his shoulders.
When I opened my eyes, he stood slowly, smug and beautiful, brushing his thumb along my lower lip.
“I needed that,” he said, voice low and pleased. “God, I love you.”
“I love you too,” I blurted out, sliding off the desk so I fell into his lap.
I couldn’t keep the words in anymore. They slipped out, and now I couldn’t take them back.
My legs were spread, my panties wet, but I didn’t care.
I kissed him, tasting my pleasure on his mouth as my eyes prickled.
“I love you so much, Oliver. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, I just—didn’t know—”
“Hey, don’t apologize to me. You say it when you’re ready.” He grinned, tilting my chin up with his pointer as his blue eyes sparkled at me. “But I’m real fucking glad you did.”
I smiled, the sacred, shared moment between us heavy and thick, and my chest ached.
I wanted more of him. I needed more. “I can’t get close enough to you,” I whispered, kissing his jaw, then his chest. “You talk about competence porn? Do you know how sexy it is to find an emotionally mature, kind, caring, determined partner? Let alone how you are on the field. God.”
My voice shook as I held Oliver’s gaze. This moment felt bigger than right now. Like, I had to grasp it and hold on. “Let me show you.”
“Fuck, Sloane.” He swallowed, hard. “You don’t have to—”
“I need to.”
I slid down onto my office floor, half crouching under my desk, as I slid his joggers down so his hard and thick cock sprung out.
I gripped him, pumping him a few times before taking him in my mouth.
The sound Oliver released was part caveman, part moan, and it was the hottest thing ever.
I did that to him. I was drunk on power as I sucked him while he sat in my chair.
“Yes, baby, goddamn. Your mouth feels so good.” He dug his hand into my hair, pulling my pony as he rocked his hips. “Take me deeper.”
I did, and he groaned louder. Thank god my office wasn’t near anyone else’s so no one would hear us.
I wanted him to know how I felt, that this was real and deep and I was completely obsessed with him.
I gripped his base and took him even deeper, letting him hit the back of my throat as his thighs trembled around me.
I moaned, the vibration adding an extra layer, and he tightened his hold on my hair as he came. “Yes, Sloane, fuck me, yes!”
My knees burned, and my eyes watered, but I let him come down my throat, and I swallowed it all. It tasted salty, and I was proud I brought him this pleasure.
Once he stilled, he immediately frowned and grabbed me. “Are you okay? Do you hurt?”
“No.” I smiled, completely melting for him. “That was hot.”
He barked out a laugh and pulled me onto his lap, his eyes tender. “I actually didn’t come in here to do that, believe it or not. But then you sat there looking so hot and perfect, and I couldn’t stop myself.”
I giggled and rested my head on his shoulder. “You don’t hear me complaining.”
“I planned a dinner date for us tonight.” He ran his thumb over my jaw, earlobe, then mouth. “It’s an hour out of town. There’s a little bed and breakfast nearby too where we can crash. I play again Sunday, and I just… want the next twelve hours with just you. No Rampage. No football. You and me.”
“Oliver,” I said, my voice a little watery.
“Was that a ‘yes, I love you, Oliver, and this is an amazing idea’ or ‘Oliver, what the fuck were you thinking?’ I’m still learning the different ways you say my name.”
“How are you so charming all the time? It’s obnoxious.” I flicked his nose before kissing him. “I love it. I’m so in. Do we leave now?”
“Yup. Let’s drop by our places and grab a bag. Then, it’s you and me.”
Seriously. Why had I fought this so much? Oliver James was my dream guy. I had my dream job and my dream guy… I had to get through the season and figure out what happened next because I wasn’t sure I could survive losing either one of them.
He was already awake when I opened my eyes. It was game day. Sunday.
The morning light hadn’t made it past the blackout curtains yet, but I could tell from the stillness that he hadn’t slept much. His arm was draped around my waist. His thumb moved slowly across the fabric of my tank top, back and forth in comforting circles.
I didn’t move. I let myself lie there, watching his chest rise and fall. He looked calm. He looked strong. But his heart rate was faster than usual. Not alarming. Not flagged. Just off.
“You’re awake,” he said, voice low and steady.
“Barely.”
He leaned in and kissed my temple. His lips lingered for a second longer than usual.
“It’s game day,” he said.
I nodded, but I didn’t smile. My stomach was a tangle of knots.
After our date night, things between us were more serious.
Deeper. The fear I had about him hurting himself doubled in size…
almost took the air from my lungs when I thought about him going onto the field. But I couldn’t say any of that.
He sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His body moved like it always did—controlled, powerful—but I noticed the small things. The way he paused to press a hand to his chest after standing. The way his breath caught once before he exhaled.
“How are you feeling today?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
He was completely cleared after monitoring.
William and Mac felt good about him going on.
Ivy was the only one who hesitated, but she was overruled.
His numbers looked good. He looked good.
The trial medication was doing its job. Yet, my stomach ached as I watched him.
“I’m ready.” He grinned at me, wiggling his eyebrows. “I missed playing. I never had to sit out two weeks before, and I’m surprised how much I miss it. I’m ready to go out there, baby. Don’t look at me with those sad, beautiful eyes.”
“I just want you okay.” I hated myself for showing weakness, I hung my head, and he was right there, tilting my chin up.
“I’m strong. We have a plan, and honestly? I’ve been sleeping better with you around. So if anything, you’re the reason I’m healthier. Plus, maybe a little credit to the medication.”
He kissed my temple before his eyes brightened. “Also, I talked to Rachel this morning. She’s coming to the game to watch. I… I want her to meet you.”
I turned around slowly. “Oliver, that’s awesome. Wow. You must be so excited.”
“She landed last night,” he continued. “Didn’t want to say anything until I was sure I was playing.”
“How do you feel about her coming?”
“I want her there. I’ve missed her. Yeah, it might be weird to see her after a year of not talking, but she’s family. I love her.”
He leaned down and kissed me, soft and slow. “And I really want her to meet you.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“I’m serious, honey.” He grinned, poking me in the side. “Do you need me to help you relax before we go? Why are you so quiet?”
“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head and plastering on my fake smile. He didn’t push, but I could tell he saw through it. “I’m still waking up.”
We got dressed slowly. He packed his bag. I double-checked my credentials. Everything felt mechanical. The rhythm we’d found over the last two weeks—texts, glances, quiet plans—it felt fragile today.
We took separate cars to the stadium. We parked in the same lot, but we didn’t speak much. I reviewed data on my phone. His pulse was normal. Resting HR consistent. Recovery time still in the green.
But I couldn’t shake the weird feeling.
Not through breakfast. Not through the drive. Not even when we walked into the building and the world welcomed him back like he’d never left.
Oliver had to be okay. He had the best care, and we were all there for him. But my stupid heart wouldn’t settle.