Page 51 of Deadly Hope
Izzy threw a dinner roll at him. “That’s a hard no.”
Ronan dodged the bread. “Yeah. Maya would totally agree with you.”
Olivia hid her smile behind her own glass, grateful for the lightening mood. She’d noticed how the name debate resurfaced whenever the tension got too thick.
“Speaking of Maya ...” Kenji wiggled his eyebrows. “When’s your lady love back?”
“Tomorrow.” Ronan’s entire face lit up. “Rest of the team’s about four days behind her.”
“Finally,” Griff muttered. “Maybe she can keep Romeo here focused.”
The familiar banter washed over Olivia, but her attention kept drifting to Axel. He’d barely touched Zara’s lasagna. His silence throughout dinner felt weighted, dangerous. The others seemed content to let him brood, but something in the set of his shoulders made her chest ache.
She recognized that particular tension, had seen it too many times in her practice. The rigid control of someone trying desperately to contain their anxiety, to push downmemories that threatened to overwhelm. And she knew, with a guilt that twisted her stomach, that she was the cause.
When the others moved to clear the table, she gathered her courage. “Hey.” She touched his arm lightly, feeling the coiled tension even through his sleeve. “Could we talk?”
His eyes met hers, dark with something she couldn’t quite read. He nodded once.
“Bundle up,” she said. “The deck’s beautiful in the moonlight.”
Five minutes later, they stood at the deck railing, breath clouding in the frigid air. The full moon painted the snow-covered landscape in silver, making the drifts glitter like scattered diamonds. The thermometer by the door read zero degrees, but the sky was crystalline, stars sharp enough to cut.
Olivia pulled her borrowed parka tighter, searching for words. The warmth and laughter from inside filtered through the windows, making their private moment feel somehow both isolated and protected. Now that she had him alone, her carefully planned speech evaporated like her visible breath in the frigid air.
“I need to apologize,” Olivia finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. The words formed tiny clouds in the freezing air. “About tomorrow. About all of this, really.”
Axel shifted beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. “Nothing to apologize for.”
“I know what today’s doing to you,” Olivia finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.. “The hypervigilance, the constant threat assessment. I see it.”
Axel’s fingers drummed against the railing, a staccato rhythm that betrayed his tension. “Not your problem to manage.”
“But I made it your problem.” She turned to face him, even though it was harder than staring out at the moonlitsnow. “I pushed for this plan, knowing—professionally knowing—exactly what it would trigger. The kind of stress it would put on someone with your history.”
He went very still beside her. “You think that’s why I’m—” He broke off, shook his head. “You really think I’m worried about myself?”
“No!” She scrambled to explain. “The exact opposite. I think you should take a little more time to consider what works for you.”
He eyed her with that same cold skepticism she’d expected to see in that first session that never happened. “I’ve done this before. More than once. Don’t worry. The wheels won’t come off.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She gritted her teeth, feeling like she was sinking farther and farther into the mud with each utterance.
She stared out over the snow wishing the sharp cold would clear her head. “I’m totally blowing this. I just came out here to tell you that I wouldn’t be pushing for this if it wasn’t important. And I wanted you to know I appreciate the sacrifice. I need to know what happened to James,” she said softly. “If he was involved in something he couldn’t live with, or if someone—” Her voice cracked. “I need to know if I missed something. If I could have ...” She trailed off, unable to finish.
Axel’s hands tightened on the railing. “You didn’t miss anything.”
“You can’t know that.” She wrapped her arms around herself, less from cold than from the need to hold herself together. “Just like I can’t know if this is the right call. If I’m letting my need for answers override my professional judgment.” She attempted a weak smile. “You would have made a fascinating client, you know. All those complex layers of trauma and resilience.”
The words felt like ash in her mouth, because deep inside, she knew she was lying—not about his complexity, but about regretting their lost therapeutic relationship. If he had become a client, there would never be hope for ... anything else. And despite her better judgment, that hope had taken root, growing stronger with every shared look, every accidental touch.
Axel shifted his weight, his typical fidgeting more pronounced in the cold. His gaze darted everywhere but her face. “I’m glad I’m not your client.”
She blinked. “What?”
“You heard me.” Now he did look at her, and the intensity in his eyes made her heart stutter. “And not because I don’t believe in therapy.”
Understanding bloomed between them, delicate as frost and just as transformative. Tears pricked at her eyes, her careful professional boundaries crumbling like sugar in rain. The moment stretched, filled with all the things they couldn’t say—not yet, not with tomorrow looming over them like a stormfront.
