Page 28 of Second Sin

I whip around. “You don’t know shit about it.”

“I know more than you think,” Blake says. “And I know pain when I see it.”

I grit my teeth. “Stay out of it.”

He shakes his head. “You keep pushing everyone away long enough, eventually, there’s no one left.”

He walks off.

I lean back against the wall, heart pounding.

And all I can think is?—

Emotional closeness is so much fucking scarier than pain.

CHAPTER 11

OLIVIA

The halls outside my office are quiet, the echo of the last closing door already faded.Everyone’s gone. I should go too. I should call it a night, lock up, head home, maybe try to sleep. But there’s a buzz under my skin that I can’t shake.

So instead, I change.

Tights. A loose t-shirt. Hair pulled back. Running shoes.

I haven’t run in months. Not really. But tonight, I need to move. Need the ache in my legs and the burn in my lungs to match the pressure behind my ribs.

The players' gym is dim, half the lights off, the room humming with that low ambient buzz of empty space. I step onto the treadmill, set it to a steady pace, and start moving. My AirPods are in, music thudding a beat that drowns out the thoughts.

Ten minutes in, I start to find a rhythm. My muscles begin to loosen. My chest opens up.

Something flickers in the mirror’s edge. My mind says ignore it. My gut knows better. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. Motionless. Watching.

Sebastian.

And just like that, I miss my step.

The belt moves faster than my reaction time.

My foot slips.

And I hit the ground hard.

I’m not hurt. Just stunned, breath punched from my lungs and pride bruised.

Before I can gather myself, he’s there.

Great.Exactly the impression I want to leave—clumsy, breathless, and flat on my ass.

“You okay?” He crouches down beside me, hands hovering like he wants to touch but isn’t sure if he should. “Did you hit your head?”

"I'm fine." I sit up, waving him off. “Embarrassed, but fine." My heart thuds wildly in my chest. "You scared the hell out of me that's all.”

“I didn't think anyone would be here.” Those storm grey eyes pierce me with a look that burns. Intense. Hot. And slightly...vulnerable. Then he blinks and looks away.

He helps me up. His grip is firm, fingers curling just under my ribs as he lifts me—close enough that my chest brushes his. I swear I feel the tension in him, how tightly wound he is beneath all that control.

His fingers skim my elbow as he steps back, and my skin hums with the contact, stupid and sensitized.

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