“Thanks, Devin,” I say, pushing open my door.
“I’ll get your crutches, Ms. Fox,” he says.
Our movements catch Oliver’s attention, and he shifts direction to walk toward us. His breathtaking smile grows when he sees me through the open door, and heat runs up my chest into my cheeks. Am I blushing? How do I still blush around him? He’s the sun, that’s why.
“You ready to do this?” he asks, ducking into the doorway to make eye contact.
Despite the flare of panic that rushes through me at what I’m about to do, I feel a smile tickle my lips. It’s hard to believe that just a few weeks ago fear had me cowering in the shadows. Now, I’m about to take on the impossible.
“I’m ready,” I say, reaching for him. He helps me out of the car, and I wrap my arms around his chest, balancing my weight on my good leg while I wait for the crutches. Truthfully, I wouldn’t mind staying here for a while. I breathe in the scent of freshly showered spice and clean linen I’ve come to associate with him. “How was your day, though?” I ask, my smile dimming at the thought of what he must have gone through. “Was it bad? The backlash?”
I dare a look up, praying the light won’t be sucked from his eyes. To my relief, his smile only grows. “There really wasn’t any, thanks in part to a teammate and girlfriend who stood up for me.”
Relieved, I squeeze him tighter. “Oh good. I’m sorry for going behind your back, but I knew you’d tell us not to, and I couldn’t bear the thought of them punishing you over lies.”
“Thanks, Gen. Really. I didn’t even realize how much I needed to know someone had my back.”
I glance up in surprise, brushing his jaw with my fingers. “I’ll always have your back, Oliver. And so will my team. So does yours, your family, and probably anyone who’s ever met you. You’ve got an entire army behind you, cheering you on.”
He laughs, and my heart melts a little. “An army, huh? I may need it.” He shakes his head and kisses my hair before taking the crutches from Devin. “You ready to do this?” he asks, helping me onto the crutches.
I nod and fix my gaze on the large glass building. “Let’s break shit.”
“Oliver, so good to finally meet you in person,” Sam says, leading us into her office. I asked for a private meeting today—no assistants or other personnel—so I’m sure she knows something’s up.
“You too, Sam,” he says, taking her hand.
“Genevieve, how are you feeling?” she asks me.
“I’m fine. I’ll be back on my feet soon. Thankfully, my boyfriend is an expert on rehab.”
We exchange polite chuckles as we take our seats at the small table in her office. Sam's gaze turns serious once we’re settled. “How can I help you?” she asks me.
I swallow hard, the panic returning as I stare over the cliff. I was so ready to jump when I got in my car today. So ready as we walked into the building. I thought I could do it, knew I had to if I was going to get my life on the right trajectory. Now that I’ve swung a foot over the ledge…
My knee feels warm, and I look down to see Oliver’s hand clasped gently around it. I spread my palm over his, holding tightly as I pull in a deep breath. I imagine him waking up from surgery, that first day of rehab, the mountain he faces every day he walks into the weight room. Wouldn’t you rather it be for a prize that’s worth it? What’s at the top of the mountain for you?
Forcing my gaze back up, I look directly at Sam—and jump.
“I want to retire, Sam. I don’t want to be Genevieve Fox anymore.”
Crash.
I cling hard to Oliver’s hand, even reaching with my other to hold on. My heart pounds wildly, every thump echoing with a violence I feel throughout my body. More words bubble in my head and shoot to my throat. Words I’ve held onto for so long without even knowing they were there.
“I know that sounds crazy and spontaneous, but I assure you, it’s not. I’ve spent countless hours agonizing over this decision, and I think it was a long time coming, even if I didn’t recognize it until recently. I’ve been trapped my whole life and didn’t have the courage to confront that reality. I was so afraid of falling, of letting everyone else down.”
I cast Oliver a quick glance, and he smiles back, squeezing my hand in encouragement. I clear my throat and focus on the shiny tabletop. “My mom has had me in front of cameras since I was a baby. I was raised to be Genevieve Fox. I’ve never known anything different and believed this had to be who I was. Except I hated who I was. I dreaded each day, each second of my existence and every glimpse of myself. It got so bad I couldn’t even look in the mirror without having a panic attack.” I’m still not watching her. I can’t afford to be derailed right now as the truth bursts out, painful and freeing
