Chapter 25 Nova
nova
I wanted him. Not only in the way I wanted him inside my dress—though, God help me, I wanted that, too.
I wanted to crawl inside his skin, bury myself in his safety, his warmth, everything he exuded.
I wanted him because when I was around him, I wanted to be better.
I wanted to shower, put on fresh clothes, and find joy in small, mundane things like sitting down to dinner or sharing quiet moments by the fire.
God, I wanted him.
I thought I loved Austin. Maybe I did, in my own way.
I loved that he gave me the little pear inside my stomach.
I loved the fleeting moments when things felt normal, like we were real and untouchable.
Everything I’d told Ollie was true—I was always worried about Austin.
I was spinning in circles, trying to make sure I was doing enough for him, constantly competing with his addictions.
It was a battle I was never going to win.
With Ollie, it wasn’t like that. Nothing with him was a competition. Even when he rolled his eyes at training or grumbled about me pointing the camera at him, it felt effortless. Easy. I could be myself, without having to fight for space in his world.
“Did you see that article about us?” I asked, breaking the quiet.
“I did,” he said, running a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable. “Are you upset?”
I waved my hand dismissively, slicing through the air. “No. I’m in social media. I’ve been in the media for worse. Being photographed with Coach Daddy isn’t exactly the scandal of the year.”
His lips twitched, a reluctant smirk threatening to break through.
“I do need to call Austin.”
His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.
“It’s his right to know about the baby before the media gets a hold of it.
One thing I know for sure—one solid decision I feel good about—is that I don’t want baby pear to be anywhere near the media.
I can put myself out there, I can deal with the scrutiny of my relationships, but not the banana. That’s where I draw the line.”
Ollie nodded, his expression serious. “I agree. Keep her safe and protected.”
His words settled something in me, a reassurance I hadn’t realized I needed.
“Wait.” He jumped off the sofa, and I shot up straighter.
“What the hell? Is someone robbing us?”
“I want to do something for you,” he shouted over his shoulder as he disappeared from the room, leaving me completely bewildered.
“Am I supposed to follow you?” I asked, but with no one around to answer, the words felt ridiculous.
Shaking my head, I leaned back against the sofa and looked around the room, trying to distract myself from the growing curiosity about whatever he was doing. My eyes landed on the dessert plates still scattered across the coffee table.
With a sigh, I got up, gathering the plates in a small stack.
I might as well make myself useful. I carried them to the kitchen, setting them by the sink as I rolled up my sleeves.
The sound of running water filled the quiet house as I started rinsing, my thoughts drifting between cleaning and whatever ridiculous plan Ollie had hatched.
“Stop doing the dishes,” Ollie shouted from the top of the stairs. “Come here.”
“Oh, now you want me to follow,” I huffed, rolling my eyes as I shoved the last of the plates into the dishwasher.
With the kitchen sorted, I dried my hands on a towel and headed toward the stairs.
His house was absurdly massive, the kind of place that came with a map and maybe a tour guide.
Each time I walked through it, I found myself noticing new little details—like the sweeping staircase that belonged in a fairytale or the way the hallways seemed to stretch on forever.
As I climbed the stairs, I chuckled. The thought of living here was laughable.
Sure, the apartment downstairs would be perfect for Luna, and the house itself was like something out of a dream.
Luna and I could never afford a place like this, even if we combined every penny we had and threw in a prayer for good measure.
For a fleeting moment, I pictured it. Filling these rooms with the chaos of life, the baby’s laughter bouncing off the high ceilings, Luna blasting music downstairs while teaching her classes.
I reached the top of the stairs, glancing down the hallway to where I heard him in his room.
“Ollie?”
I pushed the door open, and he was standing in the doorway between his bedroom and the bathroom.
“Good. You’re here.”
“Where else would I be?” I quipped.
He crossed the room and grabbed my hand, guiding me to the bathroom. “I heard you telling my mum you’d kill for a bath, so here.”
Steam filled the room, the scent of lavender and something citrusy wafting through the air.
The tub was filled with bubbles, high and fluffy, spilling over the sides.
Next to it, he’d set up a little tray with a selection of soaps, a neatly folded towel, and a glass of water perched perfectly in the corner.
It stopped me in my tracks.
He turned, shoved a pair of earbuds in my direction, and gestured toward the tub with a pointed look. No words. Just the quiet insistence that I take the hint.
I didn’t move right away, staring at the setup, at him, at the sheer thoughtfulness of it all. My throat ached, and before I knew it, I was crying. Full, hot tears spilling down my cheeks faster than I could catch them.
“It’s the hormones,” I choked out, wiping at my face as if that would make the tears stop.
He brushed his thumb over my cheek, catching a tear. Then he gestured to the tub again, gentle insistence in his silence.
It wasn’t hormones. It was so much more than that.
It was the way he’d listened. Really listened.
Not just to the words I’d said earlier, but to everything I hadn’t said.
To the things I’d been whispering, even without realizing it.
The depth of that—of being heard, of being seen—was more than I could handle in that moment.
I clutched the earbuds and nodded, unable to speak as I stepped toward the tub.
“I’ll leave you to it.” He paused near the door, glancing back. “Shout if you need me.”
“C-Can I have a shirt or something?” I glanced down at my dress. “I don’t want to wear this afterward.”
Without a word, he turned toward the closet, rummaging for a moment before tossing something in my direction.
I caught it—a worn rugby shirt with the team’s logo on the front and Stone printed boldly across the back.
“Really?” I held up the shirt, arching a brow. “Your old rugby shirt?”
His grin spread like he’d been waiting for this exact moment his entire life. “I’ll never get to see my name on your back. Let me have this one fantasy.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “Small fantasies are how it starts, you know.”
“Careful, or I’ll start asking for the full kit,” he quipped, winking as he turned to leave, pulling the door closed behind him.
The sound of the latch clicking left me in the warmth and quiet of the bathroom.
Slowly, I peeled off my clothes, letting the fabric pool at my feet.
Earbuds in hand, I grabbed my phone and turned on my favorite moody mix.
The warmth of the water wrapped around me, the bubbles soft and soothing against my skin.
I closed my eyes, letting the weight of the day melt away.