CARTER
SHE’S insane if she thinks I’m going to give up easily.
She’s letting her insecurities take hold, root in her brain and force her words. Those intrusive thoughts dare her to try, to see if I care enough to fight for this. They tell her I don’t, that I’d rather walk away, but they’re wrong. She’s wrong.
The sword she wields when she’s scared is double-edged, and she hurts herself whenever she hurts me.
Truthfully, I think part of what scares her is that I’m not going anywhere. Alone she’s free to hide within herself. She can keep parts of herself hidden and give me what she’s comfortable with. If I’m by her side, she’s forced to step outside of herself, to face the insecurities that want her to self-destruct her life.
As afraid as she is that this might go south, she’s just as scared that it won’t, that it’ll work. So am I. Forever or never—both of those thoughts are terrifying.
I drop my watch to my dresser and tug my tie loose. I don’t know why the fuck I put this thing back on when we left the condo, and right now it feels suffocating.
Turning, I find Olivia hovering by the bed, watching me. She quickly busies herself rooting around in her bag.
Her eyes grow bigger with each step I take in her direction, and she stumbles backward when I stop in front of her. I catch her around the waist, and her hands tremble as her nails bite into my forearms while she stares up at me.
I love our height difference. I love that I can throw her around like a rag doll or hold things out of her reach just to irritate her, to get her to press her chest against mine while she jumps around. I love that she’s this tiny woman with a huge attitude that sometimes seems too big for her body, and I fucking love wrapping all of her up in all of me.
But right now, I feel so much bigger than her, and I don’t want to be. I want to be on the same level; that’s where we belong. So I take a seat on the edge of the bed and guide her down beside me.
“This self-sabotaging, not-trusting-each-other bullshit won’t work, Ollie. Not for us. We both have fears, and the only way we’re going to get through them is if we face them together. Because you’re not alone in this, and I think that might be the biggest factor here, you thinking you have to do this alone. So you’re going to admit that you’re scared and tell me why while I hold your hand, and then I’m going to tell you why I’m scared, and we’re going to start to work through it together.” I hold my hand out to hers. “Got it?”
Her chest lifts and falls as she stares down at my hand, and after a moment, she slips hers into mine. As she looks up at me, her eyes drown in hesitation, apprehension, and I know this isn’t easy for her. When her mouth opens, a quiet, broken cry steals her words, and I watch as her walls start falling down like waterfalls.
The process of Olivia’s tears is slow and painful, but somehow beautiful. That full bottom lip does an almost imperceptible quiver and her eyes change, melting to a softer hue with bits of mossy greens and shimmery golds as they fill. She holds on as long as she can, and I watch as those tears tip over the edge and come tumbling silently down her rosy cheeks. There’s this strange, sadistic part of me that likes them, only because I recognize what they mean: that Olivia cares deeply for me, that the thought of us going our separate ways all over again is as painful an idea to her as it is to me.
But mostly, I hate these tears. I don’t want to be the dark cloud that hangs over her. I want to be the light that glows in the dark and eases all her fears.
“Don’t cry, beautiful.”
“I’m so sorry.” She gasps, swiping at her cheeks, turning her face away.
“Hey.” Hooking a finger under her chin, I force her gaze to mine. “Your tears are not a weakness, so stop trying to hide them. Don’t be sorry for showing me how you feel. Being vulnerable with each other is how we learn to be the best versions of ourselves as partners. When you show me the type of love you need, I learn how to give it to you.”
Her watery gaze flickers at the four-letter word that leaves my mouth without warning, without intention, and my chest tightens like a squeezing fist. It’s part confusion, part familiarity, four letters that came out of nowhere but settle around me with an ease I never expected.
“I don’t know how to ask for help,” Olivia admits. “I’ve been pretending that everything is fine, trying to be your brand of perfect, because you’re so perfect with me, and if I’m not, if some things still scare me…” She squeezes her eyes shut. “Why would you stay when it’s so exhausting?”
“It’s been one week, Olivia. Your fears aren’t going to magically get up and walk away. I know now that it doesn’t work like that. It’s something for us to work on, a way for us to grow together.” I brush her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. “Go easy on yourself.”
I can tell that going easy on herself isn’t something she’s used to doing.
“I’m scared, Carter. I’m scared that I’m your test run. You’ve spent your entire NHL career doing this, and I’m expected to believe that I’m the woman that’s come out of nowhere and made you want something you’ve never wanted before?” She shakes her head. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had that level of confidence. I can’t even let go of that article. The words replay in my head, wondering if I’m enough, and then I see all the women who want you, some of the ones who’ve already had you, and I hate…” She drops her face and her shoulders curl, shaking as she cries, hands fisting in her lap. “I hate that I look at them and feel like I’m not enough, that I can’t stack up.”
“Ollie.” I pull her onto my lap and she clings to me as she cries, face tucked into the crook of my neck. My hand moves over her back as my chest aches with a pain I’ve rarely felt, one that leaves me feeling helpless. As I press my lips to her ear, I whisper, “You’re enough, Ollie. So enough you leave me overflowing. And I don’t think a good measure of confidence is whether or not you compare yourself to others. It’s only natural. I think it’s about showing each other what we mean to the other and being confident in what we have together. That’s where that feeling of enough comes from.”
Gently shifting her backward, I cup her face, thumbs brushing beneath her eyes, catching her tears. “My heart chooses you because you’re feisty and fierce. You’re sarcastic and you know how to clap back at me, and I love those bits of confidence. But I love when you show me your sensitive side, too, and I love that you think you hide it so well but actually wear it on your sleeve.”
She giggles and hiccups, wiping the back of her wrist across her eyes, smearing her mascara, and sweet fuck, she somehow manages to find a way to rock the raccoon look.
“You might’ve been hesitant to let me in here—” I tap on her heart, “—but you let me into your life when I asked nicely enough, because you thought I deserved a chance, even if only to prove there was more to me than what the media shows. You took my friends in without hesitation, made them your friends, too, and that means the world to me. I smile all the time when I think about you, and the way your nose scrunches when you laugh at me is tattooed in my mind. You came back to me even though you were scared, even when you had a million valid reasons to be, and here you are right now, communicating with me, even if it’s hard.”
I press a tender kiss to her lips. “You have a big heart, Ollie, and with a big heart comes big emotions. Some of those are fears, insecurities, and that’s okay.”
“But you’re not afraid of anything,” she whispers.
A quiet chuckle bubbles. “You think I’m not scared too? I’m scared. Christ, I’m fucking terrified.”
“What are you scared of?”
“I’m scared this is it, that you’re it for me. And while that thought is scary enough, nothing is scarier than the thought that I might not get to keep you, that you might one day walk away and I’ll have to let you because all I want is for you to be happy.”
Her warm palm cups my jaw. “You make me happy, Carter.”
“That’s good, ’cause I’m kinda obsessed with you.”
Her nose wrinkles with her laugh, one of my favorite sights. It’s kinda snorty, probably because she’s still half crying. She tips forward, her forehead smacking off my chest, and I smile as I bury my face in her hair.
“You’re laughing but I’m not fucking joking.”
Olivia’s beautiful tear-streaked face comes into view. “I’m kinda obsessed with you too.”
“I can’t change my past, but if you give me the chance, I can change my future. But I need all of you, Ollie. Not half of you.” I watch the scrape of my thumb along her lower lip. “I know I flip your world upside down. You fucking demolish mine. Please, let me in. Let me see you. Let me have you. All of you.”
“I don’t want to hide anymore,” she whispers. “I’m tired.”
My heart thumps in my chest, ready to take her, to keep her, all of her. “If you want obsession, fierce appreciation, wild, unrestrained passion…If you want fucking magic, Ollie, then it’s me. Let it be me.”
The soft brush of our lips sends a thrill down my spine.
“Let’s be scared together.”
