Chapter 8
POV: Suzy
I kissed him back like I was starving for him. Like I had waited my whole life for this moment. His hands gripped my waist, hauling me up until I was flush against him. My fingers threaded into his hair as he backed me up against the wall, his mouth devouring mine.
“I’ve thought about this,” he growled against my lips. “Over and over again. You in my arms. You tasting like this.”
His mouth moved down my neck, teeth scraping my skin in a way that made my knees buckle. He caught me, both hands now on my thighs, lifting me effortlessly as I wrapped my legs around his waist.
My back hit the wall again, and this time his mouth met mine with urgency, his tongue deep and slow, teasing. One of his hands slid under my shirtfingers brushing bare skin, testing. My breath hitched and he groaned against my mouth.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he rasped.
I kissed him harder. “Try me.”
I dragged my hands down his chest, desperate to feel his skin. His muscles rippled under my touch, and when I scraped my nails lightly down his abs, he shuddered.
We were fire and oxygen, reckless and desperate—and yet somehow still gentle in the way he held me like I might disappear.
He finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against mine, both of us panting.
“Have dinner with me tonight,” he whispered. “Just us. No girls. No distractions.”
I nodded, still breathless. “Yes.”
His fingers brushed my cheek, lingered at my jaw. He leaned in again, pressing a kiss to my temple like a promise.
Then came footsteps outside. Voices. Reality.
We stepped apart, hearts racing.
But this time, the fire didn’t die.
It simmered beneath our skin, waiting.
Back at the arena, Logan and I took our seats in the stands, our shoulders brushing, legs touching. Close. Quiet. But everything between us had shifted.
We were in a bubble now. Just us. No words needed.
The noise of the gym faded—the lights still flashed, the music blared, the crowd buzzed—but none of it mattered. Not when Logan’s knee nudged mine. Not when his fingers found my thigh beneath the bleachers and gave a soft, grounding squeeze.
Like a silent I’m here.
We were completely alone in the middle of chaos.
And then—
“Lily Marshall,” the announcer called.
Lily beamed and waved at us. I gave her a thumbs up, heart thudding with pride and anticipation.
She marched toward the mat like a warrior—strong, radiant, focused. When the music began, she moved like the floor belonged to her.
“She’s on fire,” Logan murmured.
“She’s home,” I whispered back, breathless.
And she was. Confident. Joyful. Perfect.
Lily landed her final pose with stunning precision. The crowd erupted in cheers. I clapped so hard my palms ached.
We stood, high-fiving, laughing—buzzed from her performance and everything we weren’t saying out loud.
We sat again, shoulders still pressed. I was lightheaded with joy and... something more.
“Izzy’s next,” Logan said softly.
But then something changed.
Logan went still.
Rigid.
Like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap.
I followed his line of sight to the gymnasium entrance.
And I saw her.
Tall. Poised. Walking like she owned the ground beneath her. Her brown hair was swept into a perfect bun. Pencil skirt, silk blouse, heels clicking against the floor like a metronome of dread.
The crowd began to murmur. Then cheer.
Beside me, Logan exhaled like someone had punched him in the ribs. “No. Please no.”
I stared harder.
“Oh, look who graces us with her presence,” the announcer said over the microphone, and the arena erupted.
I turned to Logan. “Wait... she’s—?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
Because I saw her face.
And I saw Izzy’s face in hers.
Same shade of brown hair. Same mouth. Same sharp, elegant bone structure.
“She’s Izzy’s mother,” I breathed.
Logan shook his head slowly, like he was trying to deny reality. But it was too late.
“She is,” I whispered again, feeling the chill crawl down my spine.
The announcer confirmed it a second later. “Elizabeth Raven, the legendary Olympic gold medalist, is here to cheer for her daughter, Isabella Raven Kaiser!”
Of course I remembered her. From TV. Magazines. A legend. The gymnast every little girl once wanted to be.
And the woman who walked away from her daughter.
The crowd reacted like royalty had arrived. Parents whispering. Coaches pointing. Cameras flashing.
But then I looked at Izzy.
She was frozen near the warm-up zone, staring at the woman walking toward her. Her entire body trembled. Chin up, shoulders braced—but her eyes were glassy, wide, terrified.
She looked like a little girl again.
Elizabeth spread her arms and swept Izzy into a hug. Cameras snapped. The crowd murmured, as if witnessing a heartwarming reunion.
But it wasn’t.
Izzy hesitated. Her arms were barely raised. Her body stayed stiff, unyielding.
She didn’t lean in. She didn’t smile.
She didn’t trust it.
I reached for Logan’s hand, but he was already on his feet, fists clenched.
And then—
“Isabella Raven Kaiser,” the announcer called.
Izzy turned toward the mat like she was sleepwalking. Her spark—gone. Her fire—extinguished. Her soul—somewhere else entirely.
The music started.
She stumbled on her first pass.
Recovered.
But midway through a tumbling sequence, she twisted too early and—
CRASH.
She hit the mat with a sickening thud. The crowd gasped.
“IZZY!” Logan bolted from the stands before I could blink.
I was right behind him.
She was clutching her foot, eyes wide with pain, lips trembling.
“Don’t move her!” Logan barked at the staff rushing over.
He dropped to his knees, all doctor now—but his hands shook. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m here.”
Tears spilled from her eyes. “It really hurts, Dad.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” He cradled her in his arms. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Lily appeared beside me, her hand squeezing mine. “She’ll be okay, right?” Her voice wobbled. I hugged her tight.
And then—
Click. Click. Click.
The heels.
Elizabeth appeared, her face a mess of panic and guilt.
“What happened?” she demanded. “Is she okay?”
Logan turned, Izzy still in his arms, fury radiating off him like a storm.
“What the hell do you think happened?” he snapped. “You show up out of nowhere and wreck her focus right before she competes?”
“I just wanted to see her,” Elizabeth said, defensive. “It’s been years—”
“Exactly,” he growled. “Years. And you chose now?”
People were watching. Phones were out.
I stepped between them, placing a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Not here. Not now. She needs a doctor.”
His eyes met mine, raging, wounded—and then he nodded. “We’re going to the hospital.”
I crouched by Lily. “Do you want to stay for the ceremony?”
She shook her head fiercely. “No. I want to go with Izzy.”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
At the hospital, the fluorescent lights hummed above us. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to everything.
Izzy lay on the hospital bed, ankle elevated and packed with ice. Logan hadn’t let go of her hand for a second.
He was in full doctor mode—but underneath that, he was just a father barely holding it together.
“She’ll be okay,” he said softly after the X-rays came back. “Minor fracture. Two weeks in a boot. Could’ve been much worse.”
Izzy nodded, eyes still puffy from tears.
I sat beside Logan and rested a hand on his thigh. He placed his over mine and let out a long, exhausted breath.
Elizabeth lingered by the door, arms crossed, unsure. Unwelcome.
Eventually, she stepped forward. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice small. “I didn’t mean to distract her. I just... I missed her.”
Izzy didn’t respond.
She looked away.
And Logan?
He didn’t even look at her.
“Logan,” Elizabeth said, her voice trembling now. “Can we talk?”
This wasn’t about a fall.
This was years of absence, abandonment, and damage unraveling under the cold lights of a hospital.
“Not now,” Logan said flatly.
“Just one minute,” she insisted, stepping closer.
But Logan stood, straight and tall, his hand still clutching Izzy’s.
“I said not now.”
And the silence that followed was louder than anything she could’ve said.
A quiet knock tapped on the door.
Dr. Martín, a broad-shouldered man in scrubs with kind, weathered eyes, stepped in.
“Logan,” he said softly, “can I borrow you for a minute?”
Logan glanced down at Izzy. “Is it okay if I step out?”
Izzy nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be right back.”
And then he was gone.
The moment he left, the air changed.
I felt it before I saw her.
Click. Click. Click.
Elizabeth Raven stepped into the room like she still owned the spotlight. A graceful shadow in designer heels and perfectly applied makeup. Her eyes darted to Izzy with an expression that tried to look maternal but didn’t quite make it there. Not anymore.
She moved closer to the bed. “Sweetie, I didn’t want you to get hurt,” she said, voice sugar-drenched. “I was just trying to see you perform. I missed you so much.”
Izzy didn’t answer.
She didn’t even blink.
Elizabeth reached out, brushing her fingers across Izzy’s hair.
“Oh,” she said, her voice softening. “You’ve got this beautiful braid. Did your dad do it?”
Izzy shook her head once. “No. Suzy did.”
Elizabeth blinked, her smile freezing for a moment. “And your makeup?”
Izzy didn’t hesitate. “Suzy.”