Chapter 41
Olivia
After months of heartache, longing, and career uncertainty, Olivia’s life was coming together.
Dating Connor felt as easy as breathing.
They spent every possible minute together.
Their friends stopped by the house daily.
Although, after one particularly traumatizing event, they had learned to text first.
Valentine walked in on Connor and Olivia relaxing on the couch. With Connor’s head between her legs. He hadn’t batted an eye, grabbing himself a snack and scrolling on his phone in the kitchen while he waited for them to finish.
Olivia had been too concentrated on what Connor was doing with his tongue to register her surroundings. But Valentine dropped something, and Olivia jumped a mile, smashing her vulva into Connor’s nose. She let out a startled yell, and Valentine froze, a deer in headlights.
When Connor lifted his head to cover his injured nose with a hand, he spotted Valentine and smiled, saying, “Hey.”
“Hey?” Olivia had asked, her voice squeaky.
They’d both looked at her like she had a screw loose.
“What are you doing here?” she’d asked Valentine.
He shrugged and said, “Hanging out.”
Olivia was outraged until she remembered she’d done the same thing to Connor a few months ago, and she was getting a taste of her own medicine. Then she covered her face and laughed.
Connor whispered, “Do you want him to join?”
She considered it, but ultimately shook her head.
“Do you want him to watch?”
“Not today,” she said.
Then he’d carried her to his bedroom, made her come so hard her legs turned to jelly, and they cleaned up so they could hang out with their best friend.
Her personal life had become the domestic bliss she’d always pictured herself living. She had a great group of friends, was on fantastic terms with her brother, and had the perfect boyfriend.
Her professional future also looked bright. She worked nine to five at the clinic Roxie referred her to. The hours, pay, and benefits were all more than she could have hoped for. She worked with cute kids all day and made a difference in people’s lives.
Between the money Connor had paid her under that ridiculous contract and her new job, she had enough income to apartment hunt.
But considering how things were progressing with Connor, she couldn’t commit to a year-long lease.
They’d been together six weeks, but she’d already pulled the robin’s egg blue ring box from the drawer in her bedside table multiple times and stared at it, debating slipping the pretty solitaire ring onto her finger.
She tried it on once.
Her last reservation about their relationship was hockey. While Connor remained on injured reserve, they lived in a fantasy.
He’d been practicing with the team for weeks, but he hadn’t played any games or traveled with them.
She still documented his physical therapy exercises and reminded him to take it easy after long practices.
Connor could be obsessive when it came to hockey.
A small part of her worried when he went back to his normal schedule, his infatuation with her would end.
The puck bunnies would come back in full force.
The traveling would put him on edge. Right then, she was his biggest priority, but his only real goal in life was to chase the Cup, and he couldn’t do that if he wasn’t prioritizing hockey.
The possibility that he would get too engrossed in his own goals to worry about their life as a couple worried her.
She supposed she would find out soon enough.
He’d shocked everyone with his recovery timeline and was rostered for that night’s game.
There were three games left in the season, but it still counted.
He’d proven everyone wrong about his injury being a season-ender.
And she was fucking late. Puck drop was in forty-five minutes.
The last appointment of the day ran over, and Olivia was happy to stay and help, but it meant she had to rush to get ready to an appropriate WAG standard in the tiny work bathroom.
She could have worn leggings and a sweatshirt like Daisy advised, but for the first game as a couple she wanted to look the part.
By the time she was ready to leave, the entirety of the clinic staff was gone, including Roxie, who’d left for media coverage.
Most days, Olivia timed the end of her workday with Roxie so they could walk to their cars together, since the lower-income area around the clinic was prone to high crime rates.
Olivia hustled to lock the building and rush to her car.
Connor had bought her a fancy Range Rover, but she hated driving it to work because she had terrible anxiety that someone would steal it or break out the windows to search it for something valuable.
This wasn’t a neighborhood where it was smart to flaunt wealth.
She drove The Reaper most days. It was on its last leg, but she had an ‘if it’s not broke, don’t fix it’ mindset.
She kicked herself for driving it, because it was now the car she would be driving to the stadium, and that could make Connor look bad. At least she had an appropriate outfit, having packed one just in case.
She climbed into The Reaper, locked her doors, and flipped the ignition. It didn’t start. She tried again. Success!
As she stopped at a red light, she thanked her lucky stars she’d locked the doors because a homeless man tried to open the door to the backseat.
When it didn’t open, he pounded on her window.
No traffic impeded her. In fact, there was hardly anyone around at all.
She punched the gas and ran the red light.
Olivia drove three more blocks before The Reaper died in the middle of the road. She slapped the steering wheel and turned the key. All she got was a horrible rattling sound. No power whatsoever. No lights illuminated the dash. The radio had gone silent. She fished her phone out of her pocket.
It was at two percent battery. Fuck.
Knowing everyone would already be at the arena, she sent a text to their group chat. And then, for good measure, she sent a separate text to Daisy, who would be the most likely to see her message. A read receipt appeared beneath the text immediately.
Olivia had emergency roadside services as part of her car insurance.
She didn’t have enough phone battery to look up the number, but she had a card somewhere.
She rifled through her glove compartment.
Locating the business card, she typed in the phone number and pressed dial.
It rang once before her screen went black.
She could have been sitting in the middle of the road for five minutes or five hours.
It was at least long enough for her to get through every stage of grief.
Long enough for the sun to set and the street to slip into darkness.
She hated waiting for someone to rescue her.
Five blocks from work, she could theoretically go back and call a tow truck.
But it might be ill-advised for a well-dressed, wealthy-appearing young woman to walk five blocks alone in the dark in this neighborhood.
A few cars drove by, none of them paying her any mind. The flashlight she kept in her glove box at least kept her from falling into true darkness.
When a knock came at her window, she jumped out of her skin. Darkness masked the person’s face, and for a moment she worried the homeless man who tried to hop in earlier found her.
Until Connor said, “Livy, open the fucking door.”
She was shocked to see him. Olivia hoped Daisy would send Roxie or something. With no small amount of relief and dread, she opened the door. He pulled her out of the car with a too-firm grip on her arm. Looping her arms around his middle, she squeezed him tight. He squeezed her right back.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Scared. How did you find me?”
“You share your location with me. I went to the last place it pinged.”
“Oh, yeah…You’re supposed to be playing hockey right now,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.
“I am exactly where I am supposed to be,” he said.
He opened the door to his car, and she followed the implied order. Connor grabbed every bag, box, and tool from The Reaper and piled them in the backseat.
Her relief was short-lived. Connor was livid.
On the way home, he vented. About his worries when she stayed late at work and didn’t take the car he bought her.
About how texting the group chat and Daisy instead of him since he had a game was smart, but made him hate that he was unavailable.
About how letting her phone die made it almost impossible to be sure where she was.
About insisting on working when he wanted to take care of her.
About how he hated that she worried more about his hockey game than her own well-being.
It wasn’t yelling at her, but a culmination of his worry manifesting in one long rant.
She’d sat through many lectures from her father and Lance over the years.
Lectures about how she wasn’t good enough, or smart enough, or tame enough.
How she was too much or didn’t think things through.
Connor had never spoken to her like that, and he still didn’t.
Even when she could tell he wanted to punch something, he made every point about him.
He didn’t accuse her of trying to manipulate him like Lance would have.
He didn’t insist she consider him when making choices like her father would have.
He simply expressed his feelings in a heated manner.
She listened. She nodded along and apologized and promised to do better.
Connor’s lecture was born of fear and love.
It didn’t make her feel scared or defensive.
He was in the midst of a breakdown after he abandoned the game he’d been looking forward to for months to rescue her, and he still managed to make her feel cherished.
The ranting continued until he parked in their driveway.
When they got inside, Olivia didn’t say a word.
She marched straight to their bedroom, Connor two steps behind her, still talking.
She opened her bedside table, retrieved her engagement ring, and slipped it onto her finger.
Then she held her hand up for him to see.
He gaped at her. “God fucking dammit, Olivia. I’m so fucking mad right now.”
“I know,” she said.
He invaded her space and claimed her mouth in an angry, possessive kiss.
When he pulled away, Olivia asked, “A little happy too?”
“Fucking elated.”