Chapter 10 Ollie
ollie
What did I do? Where did everything go so horribly wrong? I shouldn’t have gone into her room. Shouldn’t have let it go this far. It was too late for would’ves and should’ves. Too late to take it back.
Whatever Nova was going through wasn’t just heavy—it was dark.
Darker than I thought I understood. The way she looked at me, the way she ran, the way she crumbled .
. . It wasn't guilt or panic. It was something deeper, something buried so far inside her that it broke her from the inside out. I had no idea how to reach her.
She’d been in the shower for over a half hour, and I was getting worried.
I managed to throw on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt before pacing in the hallway, trying to figure out my next move. Finally, I worked up the courage to knock on the door.
“Hey, Nova?” I called softly, pressing my ear to the door.
The only sound was the steady rush of water. No answer.
Panic surged as my mind spiraled. I had no idea what to do. What if she was in there and drowning?
“Fuck,” I muttered, running my hands through my hair. “Fuck.”
Complicated. So fucking complicated. This was exactly why I shouldn’t—
“I need to know if you’re okay,” I said, louder this time, my voice tinged with desperation.
Still nothing.
I closed my eyes, resting my forehead against the worn wooden door. My mind raced, trying to piece together some kind of solution.
I ran to her room and scanned for her phone, spotting it on the nightstand. Grabbing it, I quickly opened it—thank God, no security code—and went straight to her messages. Luna’s name was already at the top.
Without thinking, I hit the call button.
“Oh hey, hottie.” Luna greeted cheerfully. “You getting some good coach dick—”
“Luna?”
“Oh shit,” Luna muttered, clearly realizing who was on the line. I heard rustling on her end. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I snapped. “She’s in the shower. She’s locked me out, and she’s crying. I can’t get to her, and I think she’s—she’s—” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.
“She’s not dying.” Luna’s tone was calm and matter-of-fact. “She’s depressed.”
“Is this normal?”
“Not normal all the time, but yeah.”
“Can you fix it?” I asked desperately.
“I can try,” Luna whispered. “Just go to the door and put me on speaker. Knock really loud.”
Without hesitation, I walked back to the bathroom door, gripping the phone tightly.
“Tell her I’m on the line,” Luna instructed. “If she doesn’t answer, slam the door open. Don’t wait.”
I knocked loudly, my fist hitting the wood with a force that echoed down the hallway. “Nova,” I called out, raising my voice over the sound of the running water. “Luna is on the phone. You need to open the door or I’m coming in. No arguments.”
I held my breath, my hand hovering near the handle, ready to break the door down if I had to. The silence stretched unbearably, broken only by the steady rush of the shower.
“Nova.” Luna’s voice chimed in through the speaker. “Babe, it’s me. Just open the door, okay? You don’t have to talk, but let him in. You’re safe.”
I stood there, my pulse pounding in my ears, hoping to hear some kind of response. Anything.
Eventually, the water stopped, and for a moment, everything was quiet. Then the door clicked open, enough for a hand to reach out.
I placed the phone in her palm, my fingers brushing against hers. “Are you—”
Slam. The door shut in my face before I could finish.
I exhaled hard, dropping to the floor. My back hit the door as I leaned against it, staring up at the ceiling.
Through the door, her voice came quiet and broken. “I can’t do this anymore, Luna. I need to see a doctor. I’m too sick.”
I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to shut out the feeling of helplessness that was crawling over me. I shouldn’t have heard that. This wasn’t for me.
I stood slowly, knocking lightly on the door. “Nova,” I said loud enough for her to hear. “I’m going to bed. I’ll be on the other side of the house. I won’t bother you tonight. You can have whatever space you need. But . . . if you need me . . .” I paused, my voice catching slightly. “I’m here.”
I waited for a second, hoping she’d say something.
No response.
I turned and walked away, every step feeling heavier than the last.
Inside my room, I dropped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything.
Dating, relationships—they were complicated.
Always had been. Too many expectations, too much effort, and I wasn’t good at juggling it all.
Coaching already took everything out of me.
Relationships always seemed like a mess waiting to happen, one more thing to screw up.
But this—this didn’t feel like that kind of complicated.
This felt different.
This wasn’t about romance or expectations. It was about helping someone who clearly needed it, someone I couldn’t walk away from.
Nova’s pain sat heavy in my chest, like it was mine to carry, too. I didn’t know why I felt this way, but I did. She needed someone, and I needed to be that person for her. No matter how complicated it got, I wasn’t going anywhere.