Lola POV
A week had passed since everything happened.
Since Jace went down on the court.
Since I saw him writhing in pain, and my heart cracked in places I didn’t know it could.
And since he—
He stood up for me.
I still couldn’t believe it. He stood up to his father. For me.
No one had ever done that before. Not even Cassian, and he was my brother.
After Jace’s father exploded that day in the hospital room, I left quietly. I didn’t want to make things worse. The guilt, the pain, the weight of it all—it was already eating me up from the inside.
But I couldn’t stay away.
Even when people told me to just let it go. Even when my teammates said it wasn’t a good look. Even when I tried to convince myself that we were never supposed to be anything more than rivals.
I went back to the hospital.
I visited him. Every single day.
Sometimes, I brought mango smoothies. Other days, I just sat there in silence with him while he rested, leg propped up, mind quieter than I’d ever seen it.
And now—
Today was the day he was finally being discharged.
I met him outside the hospital, just in time to see him hobble toward me on crutches, a little off balance but still smirking like the cocky idiot he was.
“Took you long enough,” I said, trying to hide the lump in my throat.
He rolled his eyes. “You try walking with one leg and a metal stick.”
We laughed. It was light again. Easy. Just for a moment. “I’m starving,” he added. “Let’s go get something.”
“Diner?” I offered.
He nodded. “Only if Ashley still remembers our orders.”
We took a slow walk—well, I walked. He limped. But we got there.
The bell above the diner door jingled, and we stepped inside. Ashley looked up from behind the counter. The second she saw us, her eyes lit up.
“Oh my god! You two—are you together now?!” she gasped, practically throwing the dish rag she was holding.
I blushed and looked at Jace, who grinned.
“We’re just here for smoothies, Ashley,” I said quickly.
“Mmhmm,” she hummed with a knowing look. “Two mango smoothies coming right up. And maybe a plate of fries to celebrate?”
“Sure,” Jace chuckled, “why not.”
We sat down in the corner booth, the one I always used to sit in with my parents. This time, it didn’t feel heavy. It felt right. The smoothies came, and we sipped in silence for a few minutes before Jace cleared his throat.
“Lola,” he said, looking at me seriously. “I just… I’m sorry. For everything.”
“You shouldn’t be,” I said quietly, stirring my drink with the straw.
“No, I should,” he insisted. “I should’ve fought harder for you. For us. I let too much get in the way.”
I looked down. My chest tightened. “Well… it’s not like you were the only one. We were both fighting for the same thing. The same scholarship. The same dream. We were rivals. That’s what everyone drilled into our heads since day one.”
Jace nodded slowly, eyes still locked on mine.
“But here’s the thing,” he said, voice softer now. “I don’t want the scholarship anymore.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
He let out a breath and leaned back. “I know it sounds crazy, but… my injury? It’s like—yeah, it sucks. But it also kind of feels like a blessing in disguise. Because it made me stop and think. About what I actually want.”
I stared at him, heart thumping.
“And the truth is,” he said, “the only thing I really want right now… is you.”
I blinked. My breath caught.
“Do you mean that?” I whispered. “Or are you just saying that because you’re injured right now and emotional and everything is a mess?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “No. I mean it. I’ve always meant it. Even when we were on opposite sides of the net. Even when we hated each other. You were always on my mind. Every serve. Every match. Every night.”
I didn’t know what to say.
So I just spoke the truth. “You were always on mine too.”
Jace leaned forward, one of his hands reaching across the table to touch mine. “Then maybe this time… we stop fighting and just let it be.”
I nodded slowly, eyes glistening. “Okay.”
He leaned in, and I met him halfway. Our lips touched. Soft. Slow. Honest.
It wasn’t a dramatic movie kiss. It wasn’t fireworks. It was real. And it was everything.
But then—
His phone rang. The moment shattered. He pulled back, annoyed. “Sorry. One sec.”
He looked at the screen, and his face froze. His grip on the phone tightened.
“Who is it?” I asked quietly. He swallowed hard, jaw clenched.
“My dad,” he said.