AGAINST the ODDS

Chapter 19: More Than Just Dinner

(Jaxon's POV – The dinner isn't just dinner. The chemistry is undeniable.)

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I should have played it safe.

I should have just sent her a gift basket or a simple thank-you note, something professional.

Instead, I asked her to dinner.

And now I'm sitting across from Dr. Lillian Carter in a dimly lit restaurant, watching the candlelight dance across her face while she tries to pretend like this is just a casual meal.

It's not.

Not for me.

And judging by the way her fingers toy with the stem of her wine glass, it's not for her, either.

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The Unspoken Shift

I knew I was pushing my luck when I asked her out—well, not out out, but close enough.

"This is just a thank-you," she had reminded me when she agreed.

And I had nodded. Played it cool.

But now, sitting here, listening to her talk about something I can't even focus on because I'm too busy watching the way her lips move, I know we're both lying to ourselves.

The air between us is different.

It's been shifting for weeks, ever since I woke up from surgery and realized she wasn't just another doctor. She was Lillian.

And Lillian was the only person who looked at me like I was more than my broken knee.

She was also the one person I shouldn't be thinking about this way.

But here we are.

And for the first time in a long time, I don't want to fight it.

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Avoidance, Her Favorite Game

She's been trying to keep her distance ever since that dinner started.

Avoiding eye contact. Keeping the conversation strictly neutral—football, rehab, the weather.

But the more she tries to act like this is nothing, the more obvious it becomes that it's something.

"So, let me get this straight," I say, smirking as I lean back in my chair. "You're a doctor, but you don't drink coffee?"

She rolls her eyes. "Not regularly. Caffeine dependency isn't exactly healthy."

"That's disappointing." I shake my head dramatically. "I thought you were perfect."

Her lips part slightly, as if she wasn't expecting that. And for a split second, I see the cracks in her armor.

She recovers quickly, though. "I never said I was perfect."

I grin. "Yeah, but I'm starting to think you might be."

She doesn't answer. Just exhales softly and takes a sip of her wine.

But she's blushing.

And I like that a little too much.

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The 'Just Dinner' Lie

By the time we finish eating, she's loosened up.

Not completely—she's still careful, still keeping a measured distance—but enough that I can see it.

The way her guard slips when she laughs at something I say. The way she holds my gaze a little longer than necessary.

We step outside into the crisp night air, and I know she's about to retreat.

Back into her professional shell.

Back behind the walls she keeps between us.

"Thank you for dinner," she says, shifting on her feet. "It was... nice."

I tilt my head, studying her. "That's all it was?"

She looks up at me, and for the first time tonight, she doesn't hide.

She knows.

She knows what I'm really asking.

And I know she wants to lie.

To say yes.

But instead, she hesitates.

And that tells me everything.

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Crossing the Line

"Jaxon..." she starts, but I step closer, closing the space between us.

Not touching her. Not yet.

But close enough that I can hear the sharp intake of breath she takes when she realizes just how not over the line I am.

I smirk. "Relax, Doc. I'm not gonna kiss you."

Her lips part slightly. "You're impossible."

"You keep saying that."

She shakes her head, looking up at me with something unreadable in her eyes. "Because it's true."

I exhale, rubbing the back of my neck. "Look, I know you want to pretend this is nothing, but we both know that's a damn lie."

Her jaw tightens. "It has to be nothing."

"Why?" I press.

"Because," she says, voice quieter now. "You're my patient. And because this—" She gestures between us. "This is dangerous."

For a second, I almost push.

Almost tell her that I don't care about the rules, that I've never been one to follow them anyway.

But then I see it—the worry in her eyes.

She's scared.

Not just of what the team might say.

But of what this might mean.

And for the first time, I wonder if I should stop pushing.

If maybe, just maybe, I should let this go before it turns into something neither of us can control.

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Letting Her Walk Away

I take a step back, giving her space.

Her shoulders relax slightly, but she still looks at me like she's waiting for me to say something else.

But I don't.

I just nod.

"Alright," I say, voice even. "If that's what you want."

She hesitates, then nods. "It is."

But we both know she's lying.

And as she turns and walks away, I realize something else.

This isn't over.

Not even close.