THE BREAKING POINT

Olivia's Pov 

I made myself a promise that morning: no more slipping. No more stolen moments. No more giving Xander Hayes any space to worm his way past my walls.

I repeated it like a mantra as I tied my hair back in the mirror of the staff locker room. My reflection looked paler than usual, eyes rimmed with exhaustion, lips still swollen in memory. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt him again , the taste of his mouth, the bruising grip of his hands, the groan that vibrated through my chest when he kissed me like he’d die without it.

“No more,” I whispered to my reflection. “It can’t happen again.”

The door creaked open.

“Talking to yourself, Doc?”

I spun. Xander leaned in the doorway, hoodie over his practice gear, grin sharp as sin.

I grabbed my clipboard like a shield. “You’re early.”

He shrugged, stepping inside. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get some extra reps.” His eyes swept over me, slow, lingering. “Guess I’m not the only one who couldn’t sleep.”

I turned my back on him, forcing calm into my voice. “Don’t flatter yourself. Get to the ice.”

He chuckled, but didn’t move. “Cold shoulder already? And here I thought we shared something last night.”

Heat flared through me. “We didn’t. It was a mistake.”

His grin widened. “Mistakes don’t feel that good.”

I shoved past him before he could see my blush. If I stayed one more second, I’d strangle him or worse, kiss him again.

At practice, I kept my eyes anywhere but on him. I checked ankles, knees, shoulders, every player I could find, pretending I didn’t feel his stare burning holes in my back.

“Doc!” Coach barked. “Come check Kelly’s wrist.”

I hurried out, grateful, kneeling on the ice beside the rookie. I prodded, wrapped, gave him clearance. My focus stayed sharp until a flash of speed tore across the rink.

Xander.

He powered through a drill, skating faster than I’d seen him in weeks, body a blur of strength and control. He shot, scored, ripped his helmet off and turned his head straight toward me.

That smirk again. The one that said I’m doing this for you.

My throat went dry. I tore my gaze away.

“Show-off,” one of the guys muttered behind me.

Exactly. That’s all it was. That’s all it could be.

Later, in the therapy room, there was no ice, no crowd, no excuses. Just me, him, and the mat.

“On your side,” I ordered briskly.

“Bossy,” he teased, stretching out slow, like he knew the movement alone made me watch.

“Shut up.” I adjusted his hip, my palms firm, clinical. Or at least they should have been. His skin was hot, muscles flexing under my touch.

“Careful,” he murmured. “You keep touching me like that, I’ll start thinking you don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” The words slipped, too soft.

His head tilted, eyes sparking. “Then what do you feel?”

“Regret,” I shot back, too fast.

He chuckled low. “You didn’t sound regretful when you were moaning my name last night.”

My hand jerked away like I’d been burned. “You’re disgusting.”

“Funny,” he said, catching my wrist before I could retreat. His grip was firm but gentle, heat pouring through me. “You didn’t think so when your tongue was down my throat.”

“Xander....”

“Olivia.” My name on his lips, rough and desperate, made my knees weaken. “Stop pretending.”

I yanked my hand free, chest heaving. “Do you have any idea what’s at stake? My job. My son. Your entire career. Cassandra.....”

His jaw ticked. “Don’t say her name.”

“It’s reality.”

“She’s not.” His eyes darkened. “You are.”

Before I could fire back, he shifted suddenly, catching me off guard. His good leg hooked around, tugging me off balance. I stumbled forward, hands landing on his chest. His laugh was low, dangerous.

“See? You fit here.”

“Xander....”

He caught my waist, pulling me closer, until my breath hitched and our lips hovered a breath apart. The air sizzled, every inch of me trembling on the edge.

I wanted it. God help me, I wanted it.

But I shoved off, stumbling back. “No.”

His smirk faltered, replaced by something raw. “You can lie to me, Liv. But don’t lie to yourself.”

My throat closed. “Session’s over.”

“Coward,” he muttered, but didn’t stop me as I fled.

The day didn’t get easier.

Ethan found us after practice, grin wide, cheeks flushed from drills. “Xander, dinner tonight? Mom’s making pasta.”

My stomach twisted. “Ethan.....”

“Sure,” Xander said smoothly, not even looking at me. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Great!” Ethan clapped his back. “You’re basically family at this point.”

Family. The word cut deep.

I forced a smile, but inside, I was unraveling.

Back in the therapy wing, while I reorganized supplies to keep my hands busy, Xander’s phone buzzed on the table. Cassandra’s name lit the screen. He grabbed it before I could blink, pacing toward the far corner.

“Yes, Cass,” he said flatly. “No, I smiled. Yes, they got the photos.” A pause. His jaw tightened. “I don’t care if the tie was crooked.”

My chest clenched. The same coldness I’d overheard before. No warmth, no passion. Just duty.

“Yes,” he ground out. “I’ll be home tonight. Fine.” He hung up, tossing the phone aside with a muttered curse.

Our eyes met. For one heartbeat, he looked like a man drowning.

“See?” he said bitterly. “Contract.”

I had no answer.

That night, after Ethan went to bed, I stood alone at the kitchen sink, staring at my reflection in the dark window. My hands shook as I gripped the counter.

Everywhere I turned, he was there, on the ice, in the therapy room, at my dinner table. And every time I pushed, he pulled harder.

I was breaking.

“This has to stop,” I whispered. “I can’t let this happen.”

But the memory of his mouth on mine, the heat of his hands, the way his eyes stripped me bare...

I pressed trembling fingers to my lips, closing my eyes.

Pushing him away was tearing me apart.

And I didn’t know how much longer I could hold.