23. Nova
nova
“I think I really fucked up, Lune.” I let out a breath, sinking back into the couch and propping my swollen feet on the coffee table. I’d hit that stage of pregnancy where a full day of walking left them puffed up like balloons. “You should’ve seen his face.”
What I wouldn’t give for a soak in Ollie’s massive clawfoot tub . . .
“He was surprised. You kind of tossed the articles at him and were like, ‘Oh yeah, here.’ ”
“It’s a lot to take in,” I admitted.
“It really is.”
“All of it is,” I added with a sigh.
Luna shrugged, her hair piled high in a messy bun. She was lounging in one of her signature matching yoga sets. “It’s hard, Nova. It’s a lot to deal with, and it’s not your fault, but it is hard.”
“We’ve got a big game in the morning, so I should probably get to bed.” I pushed myself upright.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you over there?” Luna offered. She was hosting some midnight yoga at a fancy hotel down in Kensington, so she was getting ready to head out. “Forcing him to grovel wouldn’t hurt, and you did say you slept well with him last night.”
“I’m serious.” I threw a pillow from the sofa in her direction, aiming for her smug face. “All we did was sleep.”
“Mhm.” She ducked the pillow with an exaggerated huff and grabbed her work bag. “Get a pair of clothes, loser. We’re going over there. I’m dropping you off.”
“What if he’s not home?” I countered, trying to stall.
“It’s almost midnight. He’s home.” Luna shook her head, already walking toward the door. “Come on, babe.”
I groaned, pushing myself up from the sofa and waddling after her. “You’re way too pushy for someone who’s supposed to be zen.”
She smirked over her shoulder. “It’s called balance. Go grab your stuff. We’re not debating this.”
I shouldn’t go. Apologizing was the right thing to do.
Bombarding him with all that information the way I did wasn’t fair.
But he still deserved to know the truth.
I wasn’t an addict. Yes, I did drugs once, and I regret the hell out of it, but that horrified look on his face . . . I couldn’t shake it.
What if he didn’t want me there to apologize? What if I’d imagined the way he looked at me last night?
I never did this kind of thing. The demons inside me were screaming to go to bed. I had work tomorrow. I needed to sleep, not get tangled up in midnight apologies and whatever this thing between us was turning into.
“I’m going to stay home, Lune.”
She shook her head. “I think you’re underestimating him.”
“I know. Maybe I am, but I don’t know how to do anything else.”
My mom left me. Austin left me—the person I thought I knew. Who was to say it wouldn’t happen again?
“I really do have work early tomorrow. And my dogs—” I wiggled my toes in her direction, the swollen lumps practically throbbing. “My feet are killing me.”
Luna didn’t say anything at first. She crossed the room and pulled me into a hug, her arms warm and firm. “You’re going to have to learn that running toward someone is a whole lot easier than running away.”
I shrugged, leaning into her for a moment. Maybe one day I’d figure that out.
As soon as Luna left, the quiet wrapped around me like an old, scratchy blanket I couldn’t shake off. Just me, alone in the silence, like always.
I couldn’t run to anyone—because running terrified me. What if I tripped? The idea of throwing myself into someone else’s life, of depending on them, was enough to make my stomach twist.
Trying to distract myself, I pulled out my phone and opened my notes, setting up my to-do list for work tomorrow. It was methodical, familiar, and numbed the edges of the thoughts. After, I shuffled into the shower, letting the warm water rinse off the day.
By the time I was back on the sofa, I was dry, but still restless. Like clockwork, I did my usual social media scroll. It was mindless until it wasn’t. I stopped mid-scroll, blinking at the screen.
A UK gossip site had posted a photo of Ollie with his hand covering my face.
“Hot New Assistant Coach for the Hands Has a New Love Interest?”
I snorted. Then I laughed. And I laughed some more, until I had tears streaming down my cheeks. I scrolled through a few more posts—because, of course, a handful of other outlets had picked up the photo, too.
I was used to the media circus; it wasn’t the problem. Not really. Or maybe I was too exhausted to care. Either way, the whole thing felt ridiculous. Me? A “love interest”? Yeah, right.
Still, I couldn’t help but notice how Ollie looked in the photo—broad, composed, completely unbothered.
Yet, there was something that stood out.
It was the way his eyes had flicked back, barely noticeable, checking to see if I was okay.
Like he wanted to make sure I was okay, even in the middle of whatever chaos surrounded us.
That’s what I noticed.
And that’s what broke me a little.
I let out a bitter laugh, tossing my phone onto the sofa beside me. “Get a grip, Nova,” I muttered, the words sharp enough to sting.
He was being nice, and nice didn’t mean anything—not when people leave anyway.
I rubbed at my face, the weight of the day pressing down harder. “You’re not the girl people stay for,” I whispered into the quiet, the thought so familiar it barely hurt anymore.
With that, I crawled into bed. It felt less like comfort and more like giving up for the night. At least it was quiet. Maybe, in the quiet, I wouldn’t have to think about the way he looked back at me. Or the way it made me feel.