Chapter 35 Rina
Rina
Kia’s perched in the chair across from my desk, scrolling through her phone while I finish the last of my emails.
For a moment, everything feels normal. The work stacked neatly in front of me, hockey schedules spread across the desk, the drone of productivity filling the space.
It’s a slice of stability I’m desperate to cling to.
For the first time all morning, I let myself believe that maybe things are finally settling. The steady routine of work feels more like safety.
Control.
That fragile calm shatters the instant Oliver strides into my office and shuts the door behind him with quiet finality. His presence swallows the room whole. He’s too big, too forceful to ignore. By the solemn expression on his face, something’s wrong.
“What?” The question scrapes out of me.
His gaze slices toward his sister before returning to mine. “There’s a picture of us on the Railers Rumors site.”
The air vanishes from the room, leaving me to feel hollow and weightless, as if I’ve been yanked out of myself. I grip the edge of the desk to keep from swaying in my chair.
My stomach drops as the walls close in on me.
“Is it the one from yesterday?” Barely do I manage to push the question out.
His jaw flexes, the muscle ticking. “Yeah. And before you spiral—”
“Oliver—” My voice fractures, splintering under the heavy weight pressing down on my chest. This is the nightmare scenario I’ve been bracing for in the quiet moments, the one I prayed would never come.
My job.
My reputation.
Everything I’ve worked so hard for will now crumble because I allowed myself to indulge in something I shouldn’t have.
Oliver closes the gap between us, his tone dropping as his gaze stays steady. “If this costs you your job, I’ll take care of you. Both of you. I promise.”
Kia’s head snaps up before she clears her throat and pops to her feet. “Uh… I’m going to step out and give you two some privacy.”
I blink hard, fighting to rein in the emotions that threaten to spill out. “Kia, you don’t—”
“Nope.” She cuts me off with a wave of her hand, already moving toward the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”
A few seconds later, the door closes behind her, leaving the two of us alone together with the mess we’ve made.
“I don’t want to rely on you.” The confession escapes on a strangled whisper, because saying it louder feels like it might crack me open.
“I can’t be in a position where you decide you’ve had enough and then I’m left with a child and no job.
I watched Callie fight through hell when Zane walked away.
I need to be able to take care of myself. And my baby.”
Every time I’ve trusted someone to stay, they found the nearest exit.
His eyes flash with heat, hurt, and maybe something darker before he drops to his knees in front of my chair. The movement stops me cold as I stare down at him.
“Our baby, Rina. Yours and mine.”
“Oliver…”
His hands slide up to grip my thighs, fingers firm but not punishing, as if he’s trying to anchor me in place.
“I will never let you do this alone. Not now. Not ever. I swear it.”
His voice cracks around the word never, and it hits me that this isn’t just about me. It’s about a man who values family above everything, who looks at the people he loves and sees something worth protecting.
It would be so easy to believe him.
To sink into the warmth filling his gaze, into the sheer force of his certainty.
But easy is dangerous.
Easy ends.
“You have no idea what you’re promising.” The brittle laugh that slips out sounds nothing like me. “How many relationships have you been involved in? Real ones.”
A stubborn light enters his eyes. “Why does that matter?”
“How many?”
He goes still, jaw working like he’s grinding down on a truth he doesn’t want to admit. “None.”
The response hangs between us for a second before something in me wilts.
“Exactly.” My hands fly up, palms open in exasperation. “You don’t even know what this takes. Or what it means.”
He leans in, the space between us shrinking until I can feel the heat of his breath feather across my skin. “All I can say is that none of them were you.”
Something sharp lodges in the middle of my throat. It’s so sudden, it’s almost painful. Because God help me, I want to believe him.
I want to believe in him.
The silence continues to stretch, taut as a wire, until the sudden buzz of my phone on the desk breaks it. The vibration rattles through the metal and then through me. I don’t have to peek at the screen to know what’s waiting.
Consequences.
The ones that end careers.