Chapter Thirty-Five #2
Natalia’s gaze shifts to the floor for a moment. When she looks back up, she’s quieter.
"I stayed because you asked," she says. "Because you needed someone and you hate needing people."
The honesty in that, lands. She knows me better than most people I have known my whole life.
I shift my weight, feeling the heaviness of wanting her and everything that’s happened between us. How I left the way I did.
"Kat texted you," I say.
Natalia nods. "She was worried. She said you weren’t answering anyone."
I stare at her for a second, then ask what’s been circling my brain since she walked into my apartment last night.
"Why did you come?"
Her expression doesn’t change.
"Because she sounded scared," she says simply. "And because… I was scared to. If you were hurt, I wanted to be the one to show up. I just thought you would have set me away."
The delivery buzzer goes off, saving me from having to respond to that with anything coherent.
I grab the food at the door and set it on the counter, the smell of eggs, bacon, french toast and coffee filling the apartment. She needs to eat for this conversation, and I need her distracted with something while I try to figure out how to fix this mess between us.
Natalia’s stomach growls quietly, and she looks mildly offended at her own body for betraying her.
"Sit," I tell her, nodding toward the island.
She hesitates, then slides onto one of the stools, hands folding together on the counter like she’s trying to keep them from shaking.
I set a plate in front of her, then one in front of myself. She stares at the food as if she’s not sure she deserves it.
"You haven’t eaten," I say.
"I'm fine," she lies.
I raise a brow. I know full well that she has to be hungry. She’s been caring for me since last night.
She sighs. "Okay, I might be a little hungry."
"Eat."
She takes a bite, slow at first, then another, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly.
I lean back against the counter, watching her, and the silence stretches.
Natalia sets her fork down after a few bites, fingers tightening around it as if she needs something to hold on to.
"There’s something else," she says.
I brace automatically.
She takes a breath. "I quit."
My body stills. "You what?"
"I quit Legacy," she repeats, and the words sound steadier this time, like she’s already said them to herself a hundred times. "After the way Carey handled the email. After the way Gabriella backed her up. I couldn’t work there anymore."
I stare at her, trying to process it.
"You quit because of what happened with the information you gave Carey?"
"Yes."
A bitter laugh tries to rise in my throat and doesn’t make it out.
"You gave up your career," I say, and it comes out half accusation, half disbelief.
Natalia’s eyes flash. "I gave up that firm," she corrects. "Not my career. I’m starting my own sports management consulting firm."
"But you loved that job. You flew to Switzerland on your own dime to keep it."
"That job cost me you, Luka. It wasn’t a fair trade.
Penelope is going to send me anyone she thinks could use my services.
I don’t have any clients yet, and I’ll probably be broke for a while, but…
it’s going to be worth it. I need to know that the client comes first. I need to know that trust isn’t just something we use when it’s convenient. "
The words settle into the space between us.
Because if she quit, then she didn’t "win." She didn’t get rewarded the way I convinced myself she did. She didn’t choose the firm over me. She burned the bridge completely. Just like I did between us when she showed up to the arena. I had no idea that she quit for me when she showed up that night.
"I’m not telling you this, hoping that you'll give me another chance," she says quietly.
"And I’m not expecting you to forgive me.
I gave up that hope after I showed up to the last home game.
" Natalia’s gaze drops to her hands, as if that night was a painful memory.
It is for me too. "I just… I need you to know that you weren’t a strategy. "
My throat tightens as I swallow.
My instincts want to retreat, to find something colder to say, something that keeps her at a distance.
But the image of her asleep on my couch, head tipped awkwardly, body tense with discomfort because she stayed anyway, won’t let me.
"You could’ve left," I say.
Natalia looks up. "Last night?"
"No," I answer. "All of it. You could’ve walked away when I shut you out. You could’ve stayed in Scottsdale. You could’ve let Carey take the win and moved on."
Her mouth tightens. "That’s not who I want to be."
I push away from the counter and step closer to the island, stopping across from her because I know she’s telling the truth.
"I could use someone," I say slowly, and her eyes flicker with confusion.
I continue anyway because the words are already out and I can’t pull them back.
"I could use someone who scares off journalists and PR agents who don’t take no for an answer."
There’s a soft smirk at the corner of her lip. She remembers our first meeting when I told her the same thing when she scared off the puck bunny at Oakley’s.
"What exactly are you saying?"
"I’m saying that I could be your first client."
Her eyes search mine, looking for sincerity. "You’re serious?" she asks.
I nod once.
"I don’t say things like that unless I’m serious."
Natalia stares at me as if she’s afraid to believe it. Like hope, is a thing that might hurt her if she reaches for it too fast. Her eyes go glassy, and she swallows hard.
"I don’t want you to just be my first client," she says quietly. "I want to be… yours. I'm in love with you."
The honesty in that splits something open inside my chest.
I move around the island before she can overthink it, before I can overthink it, and I cup the side of her face with my hand.
Her skin is warm under my palm.
"I love you too," I say.
Then I kiss her. I kiss her like she’s a choice I'm making. Against every instinct I've built as protection.
Natalia makes a small sound against my mouth that feels like relief, her hands rising to grip my shirt like she’s making sure I’m not going to disappear.
I pull back just enough to look at her.
"We eat first," I say, and my mouth twitches despite myself.
Her eyes narrow. "That’s not what your body language suggests."
"I’m still recovering," I say dryly.
She huffs a soft laugh.
"Finish your breakfast," I murmur, brushing my thumb along her cheek. "Then I’ll show you how grateful I am that you stayed."
Her cheeks warm, but she doesn’t look away. She just nods once, as if she’s agreeing to something bigger than breakfast.
"Just so you know. I got the Olympic Committee to agree to a reasonable offering. Mostly, they are going to own you for the next winter Olympics. You’re going to be busy with commentary and promotion.
Plus, a handful for charity events that you need to make an appearance and donate signed gear for. "
"You couldn’t help yourself, could you? You quit and still couldn’t stop working on this."
"I’m no quitter," she says.
"Me either." Then lean over to kiss her one more time.
And for the first time in days, the apartment doesn’t feel empty.
It feels like the beginning of something I’ve spent my entire life convincing myself I don’t get to have.