Chapter 17
KATE
Icouldn't focus on the bacterial cultures in front of me. Not when Austin's words kept replaying in my head like the world's most distracting earworm.
I'm falling in love with you.
The memory sent warmth through my chest—for about the twentieth time that day. I’d said it back—of course I had—but now, in the sterile quiet of the lab, a panicky voice crept in. What did this mean for us? For my career?
"Dr. Ellis, that's the third time you've mixed the same solution."
I jumped, nearly dropping a beaker as Dr. Barnes appeared beside me with her usual silent grace. Her sharp eyes missed nothing.
"Sorry," I mumbled, setting down the pipette. "I was just—"
"Distracted," she finished, removing her glasses to study me with unusual intensity. "Quite uncharacteristic for you."
I braced myself for the inevitable lecture about focus and precision, but instead, Dr. Barnes surprised me by setting her clipboard aside and straightening her lab coat.
"Walk with me," she said, already heading toward her office.
I followed her like a condemned prisoner, certain I was about to get chewed out for wasting valuable lab resources. But once inside her office—a space I'd only entered a handful of times—she gestured for me to sit.
"You're in a relationship," she stated rather than asked, adjusting the perfectly aligned stack of journals on her desk.
I nearly choked. "I—what—how did you...?"
"I've been in this field for thirty years, Kate. I recognize the signs of a scientist with her mind elsewhere." Her expression softened almost imperceptibly. "The hockey player, I assume?"
My face burned. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to someone who's been there." She leaned back in her chair, looking more human than I'd ever seen her. "I was thirty-two when I met my husband. Working on my breakthrough research on antibiotic delivery systems."
"You're married?" I blurted, then immediately regretted it.
Dr. Barnes actually smiled—a rare sight that transformed her severe features. "Twenty-three years next month. Richard is a civil engineer. Builds bridges while I destroy bacteria. Quite complementary."
I struggled to reconcile this new information with the Dr. Barnes I thought I knew—the woman who lived and breathed science, who seemed to exist solely within the confines of the lab.
"How did you... I mean, did you ever worry about balancing everything?"
She studied me carefully. "Every day for the first year.
I almost ended things twice, convinced our careers were incompatible.
" She picked up a small frame on her desk I'd never noticed before, turning it to show me a photo of herself with a kind-faced man on a hiking trail.
"Fortunately, Richard was more stubborn than my doubts. "
"Austin told me he's falling in love with me," I confessed, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Using hockey metaphors."
Dr. Barnes's mouth twitched with what might have been amusement. "And how do you feel?"
"Terrified. Excited. Like I'm conducting an experiment without controlling any of the variables." I twisted my hands in my lap. "What if it derails everything I've worked for?"
"Kate." Dr. Barnes's voice was surprisingly gentle. "The scientific method applies poorly to matters of the heart. But if I may offer some data from my own experience—the right partner doesn't derail your career. They become an essential component of your support structure."
I blinked, stunned by both the personal nature of this conversation and the unexpected wisdom.
"The trick," she continued, "is determining whether they are, indeed, the right partner. Does he respect your work?"
"He made me dinner the night before my presentation," I said, remembering how Austin had listened to me practice it three times without complaint. "He helped me restructure my publication strategy when Liu's paper came out."
Dr. Barnes nodded approvingly. "And does your work respect him? Can you accommodate the realities of his profession?"
This question hit harder. Hockey meant travel, unusual hours, and public attention—none of which aligned neatly with my research schedule.
"We're... figuring that out," I admitted.
"That's all anyone can do." She replaced the photo, straightening it with precision. "Now, about your distraction. Take the afternoon off."
"What?" I stared at her in disbelief.
"Your bacterial cultures will still be here tomorrow, and you're of no use to science in your current state." She was already returning to her usual brisk demeanor. "Go home, sort out whatever needs sorting, and return tomorrow with your usual focus."
"I... thank you."
As I gathered my things, Dr. Barnes called after me, "Oh, and Kate? Shared intellectual passion is valuable, but so is complementary difference. My husband still can't explain my research to others, but he's built me the perfect home workspace."
I left the lab in a daze, Dr. Barnes's words turning over in my mind alongside Austin's declaration. By the time I unlocked the apartment door, I'd reached a state of cautious optimism that immediately amplified when I stepped inside.
Austin stood at the kitchen counter, his back to me as he chopped vegetables with the same precision he probably used to dissect opposing teams' plays.
He wore a simple black t-shirt that stretched across his shoulders in a way that made my mouth go dry, and he was humming—actually humming—something low and tuneless.
Domestic. That was the word for this scene. Shockingly, perfectly, terrifyingly domestic.
"You're cooking," I said, dropping my bag by the door.
He turned, that almost-smile playing at his lips. "Your observational skills are impressive, Dr. Ellis."
I moved closer, drawn to him like he had his own gravitational pull. "I thought you had a team meeting this afternoon."
"Ended early." He set down the knife and pulled me against him, his hands settling on my hips in a way that felt both possessive and questioning. "You're home early too."
"Dr. Barnes kicked me out for being distracted." I wrapped my arms around his neck, rising on tiptoes. "Someone told me they were falling in love with me this morning, and I couldn't stop thinking about it."
His eyes darkened. "Sounds serious."
"Very." I brushed my lips against his, barely a kiss. "Used hockey metaphors and everything."
"What an idiot," he murmured, his hands sliding to my lower back.
"My idiot," I corrected, then kissed him properly, claiming his mouth with a thoroughness that surprised even me.
When we finally broke apart, Austin's eyes had that heated intensity that made my knees weak. "Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes," he said, his voice rougher than before.
"Plenty of time," I replied, tugging him toward the bedroom.
But Austin held his ground, his expression growing more serious. "Actually, there's something I wanted to talk to you about first."
My stomach clenched. Nothing good ever followed that sentence.
"There's a team event Friday night," he continued. "Charity gala thing, black tie. I'd like you to come. As my girlfriend."
I blinked, tension dissolving into surprise. "Your girlfriend?"
"Unless you prefer 'bacterial colonizer'?" His mouth quirked.
"Girlfriend works," I said, warmth spreading through me. "You want me to meet the team? Officially?"
"Is that okay?" His thumb traced circles on my back, a nervous tell I'd come to recognize.
The question was loaded with implications. This wouldn't be just dinner with his father—this was stepping into his public life, being seen with him, acknowledged as his partner. Part of me wanted to panic, to calculate all the ways this could complicate everything.
Instead, I thought of Dr. Barnes and her hiking engineer.
"Yes," I said firmly. "I'd love to be your official girlfriend at your fancy hockey party."
Relief and something deeper flooded his expression. "It might be intense. Media, management, sponsors..."
"Austin," I interrupted, placing my hand on his cheek. "I regularly handle volatile compounds that could theoretically dissolve human tissue. I think I can handle a charity gala."
He laughed, pulling me closer. "Just promise not to bring any flesh-eating bacteria as your plus one."
"No promises," I teased, rising on tiptoes to kiss him again, dinner temporarily forgotten as his hands slid under my shirt, our bodies communicating far more effectively than words.
The domesticity that had frightened me moments ago now felt like the most natural thing in the world. Because this wasn't just any routine—it was ours, chaotic and ordered all at once, a perfectly unbalanced equation that somehow still worked.
The charity gala was held at some fancy downtown hotel with crystal chandeliers that probably cost more than my entire education.
I tugged at my emerald cocktail dress—borrowed from Angel, who'd shipped it overnight with a note that read "Knock his teammates' socks off"—and tried not to fidget as Austin navigated us through the crowd.
"You look incredible," he whispered in my ear for the third time that evening, his hand warm and steady against my lower back. "Half the guys can't stop staring."
"That's because they're trying to figure out how you ended up with the awkward science nerd," I murmured back, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
Austin's expression darkened. "Stop that. They're staring because they can't believe I got so lucky."
Before I could argue, we were approached by a tall, grinning man with a booming voice.
"Stone! Finally dragged your ass out of hibernation!" The man clapped Austin on the shoulder before turning his megawatt smile to me. "And you must be the famous Kate. Dennis Thompson. This guy won't shut up about you."
I shook his outstretched hand, instantly recognizing the name from Austin's stories. "The one who orchestrated our housing situation?"
Dennis's eyebrows shot up. "He told you about that? Shit, I thought he'd take that to his grave."