Page 126 of Mending Hearts
“Agreed.”
He studies my face. “The separation, what do you think? Do we mention it?” His tone is steady, trying for neutral, but there’s the tiniest quiver I hear.
The words hit, but I don’t flinch. “We don’t owe anyone our history or story. It’s private and ours.”
Ollie’s exhale is a little shaky as he nods. “We focus on now.”
Now.
Not eight years ago. Not rehab. Not the implosion. Now.
“My GM has our back,” he adds, even though I already know this. “The organization issued a general statement of support. No mention of the marriage.”
“That’s smart.” When I read it, I thought they’d done a good job.
“One of my sponsors is wavering,” he says, quieter this time.
“The fuck?” I grind my teeth.
“They’re evaluating ‘brand alignment.’”
It’s a struggle to hold back my sneer. “That’s cowardly.”
“It’s business,” he replies, but there’s strain under the neutrality.
“It’s still cowardly.” I’m keen as fuck to find out which brand are being fuckheads. When I do, I’m sure there’s a way I can mess with them.
He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow so he can see me more clearly.
“This is what I was afraid of,” he says. “The fallout.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want you carrying this for me,” he says. “Or for it to force you into a relationship you’re not ready for or may never want.”
For a second, I just look at him. The fact that this is where his mind goes—not to himself, not to the sponsors, not to the team, but to whether he’s trapping me—does something complicated and sharp inside my chest.
“Ollie,” I say slowly, because I need him to hear this without any room for misinterpretation. “Nothing about this is forcing me.”
He works his jaw, like he wants to argue.
“You think I got on a plane because I felt obligated?” I continue. “You think I stood outside your building smiling at cameras because I felt cornered?”
He opens his mouth, but I don’t let him interrupt.
“I am here because I love you,” I say plainly. “I was in before your parents detonated this. I was in before the sponsors started panicking. I was in before you told Eric you’re retiring.”
And that’s the truth of it. I’ve always loved him.
His throat works as he swallows.
“This,” I add, gesturing loosely between us, “is not damage control. It’s not crisis bonding. It’s not PR strategy. It’s you. It’s always been you.”
The room feels very still. Ollie studies me like he’s trying to find the fracture line. The weakness. The hesitation.
“And if it costs you?” he asks quietly.
“It already has,” I answer.
