AGAINST the ODDS

Chapter 24: Distance Doesn't Work

(Lillian's POV – She pulls away, but he won't let her.)

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I tell myself that walking away from Jaxon Monroe is the right thing to do.

That keeping my distance is what's best for both of us.

That this is how it has to be.

I repeat it like a mantra every morning before heading to the facility. I keep my head down, focus on my work, and remind myself why I came here in the first place—to be a doctor, not a scandal.

But no matter how much I try to convince myself, none of it makes a damn difference.

Because Jaxon won't let me go.

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The Cold Shoulder That's Killing Me

I keep things strictly professional.

Short answers. No lingering eye contact. No unnecessary interactions.

I act like our late-night conversations, our easy banter, and the way he looks at me like I'm the only person in the room never happened.

But Jaxon sees right through it.

And he hates it.

Every time I walk into the rehab center, his gaze lingers on me, sharp and questioning. He tests me with little things—holding my stare for too long, cracking a joke he knows will get a reaction, brushing his hand against mine when I adjust his knee brace.

Each time, I force myself to ignore it. To ignore him.

Until today.

Today, he reaches his breaking point.

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Pushed Too Far

I'm adjusting the resistance bands for his workout when I hear him let out an irritated huff.

"You gonna ignore me forever, Doc?"

I keep my focus on my clipboard. "I'm not ignoring you, Jaxon."

He lets out a short laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Could've fooled me."

I glance at him, giving my best detached expression. "I'm here to do my job. That's what I'm doing."

His jaw tenses, his hazel eyes darkening. "Bullshit."

I inhale sharply, my fingers tightening around my pen. "Watch your language."

"Oh, now you care about what I say?" His tone is mocking, but beneath it, I hear something else—frustration.

Hurt.

I force a breath. "Jaxon, just do the workout."

"Why?" he challenges, stepping closer. "So you can pretend I don't exist when it's over?"

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Because, honestly? That is what I've been doing.

And we both know it.

His gaze hardens. "Look me in the eye and tell me this is what you want."

My pulse spikes. "Jaxon—"

"Tell me that you don't feel anything."

I swallow hard, gripping the clipboard like it's the only thing keeping me upright.

Tell him, Lillian. Tell him you don't care.

But I can't.

The words won't come.

His eyes flick over my face, searching. Then, his jaw tightens, and he exhales, stepping back.

"Yeah," he mutters. "That's what I thought."

The guilt slams into me so fast, I almost lose my footing.

But I can't do this.

No matter how much I want to.

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The Warning That Still Stings

I spend the rest of the day trying to shake the conversation.

Trying to remind myself of the warning Coach Reynolds gave me.

Of the risk I'm taking if I let Jaxon in.

It should be simple. Logical.

But every time I close my eyes, I see the way he looked at me when I couldn't give him the answer he wanted.

Like I was breaking his heart too.

And that's what terrifies me the most.

Because I don't think I can keep pulling away.

And I don't think Jaxon is going to let me.