Chapter 6 Ollie
ollie
How I managed to coax HR into giving me Nova’s address is a secret I’ll take to my grave. Yet I found myself at the front of her flat, trying to figure out how I’d be able to buzz up and get to her apartment on the third floor.
“I’ve met you before,” someone said from behind me.
I turned to see Clive, the man from the bar. “Clive, right?”
“I knew I remembered you. Assistant coach for the Hands. I’ve been trying to get myself tickets to a game for ages.”
Perfect fucking opportunity. The world couldn’t have handed me better if it was served on a silver platter.
“I’ll get you tickets to next week’s game if you help me with something.”
“Done.” Clive laughed, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. “What’s the favor?”
“How can I get into this building?” I nodded toward the apartments.
He gave me a sidelong glance, his grin turning sly. “Ah . . . you’re the one with the hots for the American.”
Clive leaned against the stone building, crossing his arms lazily. “I don’t live there.” He jerked his thumb toward the ground flat next door. “I live there.”
“Come on, old man.” I refused to let him off the hook. “I know you know someone here. I’ll make the tickets front row.”
That got his attention. His face lit up, and with a low chuckle, he knocked on one of the ground-floor windows. “Wanda, wake up! Gotta get in!”
A moment later, the window creaked open, and a woman stuck her head out, her gray curls wild. “What do you want now, Clive? You grumpy grit,” she grumbled, clearly unimpressed.
Clive just laughed. “Buzz me in, love. It’s important.”
She rolled her eyes, muttered something under her breath, and disappeared. A second later, the door buzzed open.
I clapped Clive on the shoulder as he turned back toward his flat. “Thanks. I’ll drop the tickets off tomorrow.”
“Good luck,” he called after me, grinning as he shuffled away.
I didn’t waste any time. Taking the stairs two at a time, I reached my floor in record speed. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t think about it. I knocked.
A few seconds later, her blonde roommate answered the door, her mouth dropping open and a smirk spreading across her lips.
“Well, well.” She leaned against the doorframe. “Your timing is oddly perfect.” She pushed the door open wider and waved me in. “Come on, then.”
I stepped inside. It wasn’t just a flat—it felt like a home. The place was eclectic, a little wild, and completely unique. Bright, mismatched furniture, shelves full of books and knickknacks, and artwork scattered across the walls like a mosaic of their personalities.
It was exactly how I imagined Nova and her roommate would live.
As I glanced around, my eyes landed on Nova. She was sprawled on the sofa, wearing sweats, her hair a messy halo around her head. Her shirt had a few visible stains, and when she turned toward me, I noticed her red-rimmed eyes. She’d been crying.
“Why did you open the door?” Nova grumbled.
“I was threatening to take her out for a walk,” the roommate said breezily, clearly unfazed. “But now that you’re here, better you can walk her.”
“I am not a fucking dog.” Nova shot her a death glare. “No one needs to leash me and walk me anywhere.”
I couldn’t help myself. I took a step closer, smirking. “If you wanna get kinky, love, all you gotta do is ask.”
Nova groaned, dragging her hands through her wild curls, and stood up. She brushed past me, muttering as she headed toward the room on the right. “Why are you stalking me at my house? How did you get my address?”
“You owe me.” I followed her without hesitation.
“I don’t owe you shit,” she snapped, stepping into what I assumed was her bedroom.
It was dimly lit, the space dark and cozy with a deep purple bedspread and a few pieces of cherrywood furniture. The walls were bare except for a small mirror, and a framed photo I couldn’t make out sat on the dresser.
“Take her out, Hot Coach,” her roommate called from the living room, her voice laced with laughter.
Nova rolled her eyes so hard it looked like it physically hurt. “Ignore her.” She crossed her arms and stood near the bed like a line had been drawn.
I wasn’t about to let her off the hook. “You really want me to believe you’re not a little curious why I’m here?” I leaned casually against the doorframe.
Her lips twitched, but she didn’t respond.
“Why were you crying?” I stepped into her room, the softness of my voice at odds with the tension in the air. “And why are you dressed like this? Another hard night out?”
She let out a sharp laugh. It was harsh, almost bitter. “Yeah. Right.”
I tilted my head, studying her, but before I could say anything else, she cut me off.
“Why are you here, Ollie?” Her voice was firm, her eyes narrowing as she tightened her arms around herself, clearly trying to put distance between us.
“Figured you owed me for making me a sensation without even asking.”
“I owe you nothing,” she snapped. “In fact, ticket sales to the game next week are up by two percent, so you’re welcome, actually.”
“Come out with me.” My tone was gentler than before. “I hate being on camera. Make it up to me.”
“No.”
“Please,” I begged, stepping closer, my voice softening further.
I didn’t understand the pull she had on me, why I wanted to peel back her layers to understand her better. But I damn sure wanted to find out.
From where I stood, I could see the photo on her dresser—a picture of her with a woman who looked so much like her it was uncanny.
“You look like your mum,” I murmured, picking up the frame.
She grabbed it from my hands, her expression softening as she looked at it. “I know,” she mumbled, setting it down with care.
That’s when I noticed the papers stacked next to it. The words at the top caught my eye immediately: Divorce Finalized.
Shit. I was a dick. She wasn’t out drinking. She was . . . processing.
“Fuck it,” I declared. “Get changed. Otherwise, I’ll dress you myself, but we’re getting out of here.”
“No,” she shot back, glaring. “If you want me out, I’ll wear this rag.” She gestured at her stained sweats.
I stepped closer, grabbing her chin gently but firmly, forcing her to look up at me. “I don’t care what the fuck you look like, because to me, anything would look beautiful on you. But I’m not letting you sit inside today.”
Her gaze flickered with something sharp, and she pulled away, pointing at the papers. “Because I got divorced?” She sighed, the fire dimming a bit. “That’s not why I’m sad, for the record. He was an asshole.”
Every muscle in my body tensed, my fists curling instinctively. I will kill him. Fucking murder him.
She swallowed audibly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Everything hurts when I think about what I lived through.”
My chest cracked wide open, splintering with a pain I hadn’t expected. The weight of her words, the quiet heartbreak in her tone—it wrecked me. Completely.
Who the fuck would hurt her? How could anyone hurt her? She was fire and ice, warmth and steel, all wrapped into this beautiful package.
But beneath all that strength was something raw, something fragile she worked so damn hard to keep hidden. And someone—some arsehole—had taken advantage of it. Someone had seen all her light, all her fire, and decided to snuff it out.
It didn’t make sense. She was so closed off, so wary of the world around her. How did someone like her let anyone close enough to break her like this? And why did she let them stay long enough to cause so much damage?
I couldn’t stop staring at her. She was standing right in front of me, stubborn and defiant, but the cracks were there, just below the surface.
She wasn’t hiding them as well as she thought.
Her eyes gave her away—red rimmed, glassy, and filled with a pain so deep it made my chest ache looking at her.
It killed me to think of her living through something that made her feel like this.
To think of someone tearing her down, breaking her spirit.
She deserved the world. She deserved to be cherished, protected, adored.
Not . . . this. Not whatever had left her standing here, fighting tears and wearing her heartbreak like armor.
And the worst part? She wasn’t even asking for help. She struck me as the kind of person who’d probably never ask. She’d keep moving forward, carrying it all on her own, pretending she was fine.
“Nova,” I whispered. My hands itched to reach for her, to do something, anything, to make it better, but I forced myself to stay still. “You didn’t deserve that. None of it.”
She blinked, her lip trembling for a second before she bit it, forcing herself to stay composed.
“Whoever he was, whatever he did—he doesn’t get to keep hurting you. Not anymore.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, and for the briefest moment, I thought I saw something shift. A crack in the armor.
Then she turned away, her voice soft and distant. “I don’t need saving, Ollie.”
Maybe she didn’t. But fuck if I wasn’t going to try.
“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms and turning back to glare at me. “I’ll go on a walk, like the good little dog I am.”
“Perfect.” I mirrored her tone.
“Perfect,” she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Then she sighed, running her hands through her hair in frustration. “I’m not going out like this.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “You win. You and fucking Luna win.”
Before I could even process what was happening, she bitterly pulled her stained shirt off right there.
Right fucking here.
My brain short-circuited. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Not a bra. Nothing. Her bare skin was on full display, smooth and glowing, and my body reacted instantly. My dick pressed against my jeans, and I had to force myself not to adjust like a goddamn schoolboy.
Then she pulled off her sweats.
Her body was . . . perfect. Her curves, the way her skin looked so soft, her nipples hardened slightly in the cool air—it was all too much. I wanted to touch her, run my hands over every inch of her. I wanted to taste her. Fuck, I needed to stop looking, but my feet wouldn’t move.
She turned around, only in her underwear, and walked to her closet.
I finally shifted, adjusting myself as subtly as I could. She came back with a pair of black cargo pants and a cropped fuzzy black sweater, tossing them onto the bed.
“If you want me fucking dressed, then this is how I’ll do it.” Her tone was biting, but her gaze was defiant.
I let out a dark laugh, unable to resist. “And if you want to get dressed in front of me—”
“Don’t,” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through my haze. “Last time you said something, I walked away, so don’t test it.”
Her warning hit, but it only made me smirk.
“You’re the one naked in front of me. You can’t fault me for trying.”
She turned away from me, slipping into her trousers. I had to bite back a groan because I had a perfect view of her arse, and fuck, I didn’t mind this view one bit.
“Why are you here?” she asked over her shoulder, her voice calmer but still irritated.
I tried to focus, but the sight of her pulling the cropped sweater over her head was wrecking me.
“Just came by to yell at you about the . . . video,” I managed to say, my words trailing off as my gaze drifted again, completely distracted by her.
She turned back to me, her expression unimpressed. “Really? Because it looks like you’re too busy staring to actually yell.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Once she quickly got into her clothes, she tied her hair on the top of her head. I couldn’t stop the thought from slipping in—how fast could I get her out of them again?
Before I could dwell on it, she flicked me on the nose.
“Eyes up here.” She smirked.
“Ow.” I rubbed my nose, glaring at her. “The fuck was that for?”
“For staring.”
She laughed lightly and grabbed her bag, walking out of the room like the flick had solved all my problems. “Luna, we’re leaving,” she called.
“Finally.” Luna’s voice floated in from the other room. “I was waiting to hear moans.”
“Luna,” Nova snapped.
A laugh echoed from another part of the flat, and Nova rolled her eyes as she headed for the front door.
I stood there for a second, flabbergasted. This entire interaction had been a whirlwind. I’d walked in on a joke, found a woman who had clearly been crying, and she was snapping at me, her energy flipping like a switch.
“Are you coming or not?” she barked from the doorway, giving me an impatient glare.
My brain was on fire, trying to catch up to her mood swings, her intensity, her everything.
Fuck, I thought, watching her with a mix of confusion and awe. I think I’m in love.