Nepenthe (Bracing for Love #2) (19 page)

“I need to be in control of this as much as humanly possible first. I need you to wait for me to get there. Okay?” She nods. “So unless you don't want things to stay as is, unless you want things to be simpler, then that's our plan.” Olivia nods again, not yet speaking. “And I'll get there,” I promise in a low voice. “I want you too much not to try like hell to make it happen.”

Her response is a kiss. As her hand travels down my chest and over my stomach, my muscles tighten in response. Today, I want nothing more than to kiss her for the rest of the night, but I need her to say something too. Olivia pulls back slightly, her mouth close enough to mine that our breaths intermingle.

“I'll need more time to process all of it, but we're on the same page, Corey.” Relief overwhelms me as I realize that's what I was waiting to hear her confirm. “You know, I never got to thank you,” she adds.

I hate being thanked. Olivia usually thanks me for the simplest things. Things that she should receive anyway. Does she always thank people for the smallest actions? Or does she only thank me because she knows that doing these things don't always come as naturally for me as for other people? She usually deserves whatever she's thanking me for, but I still wish she wouldn't. It bothers me more than it should, I guess.

“For what?”

“My early Valentine's Day presents.”

Oh. “Well, you're welcome.”

“I haven't thanked you yet,” she says with a grin. Olivia moves to straddle me before kissing me again. I'm tempted to move her back to her own seat because if she keeps right on, my resolve is going to disappear. Her moan hums into my mouth, shutting down my thoughts to allow my emotions to run rampant. My hands move away from hips, up her torso. “Why don't you,” Olivia mumbles between a small break for air, “take us,” she shifts purposely in my lap, “to your room?” she finishes.

Moving my hands down to cup her ass, I stand and her legs wrap around me as I take us to my room, that sweet mouth of hers kissing my neck. Everything I said might as well have flown out the window. As I lay her on the bed and lift her shirt up and over her head, we begin a run on the road of no return. Olivia is the only thing that exists in my world tonight. She's the only thought I'm able to think.

Our fate is sealed as she brings my mouth back to hers, tugging on my shirt. Tonight, Olivia becomes mine just as much as I become hers. We're in a relationship, regardless of whether or not we label it as such. Hopefully, we're both strong enough to deal with the consequences.

IF IT'S POSSIBLE for me to have a happy place, it's at work. Hard to believe, right? That I could have a happy place? I do, though. Working with my hands, doing heavy lifting, and using power tools clears my head and leaves me with a sense of accomplishment. At the end of every day, I can look around and see progress.

It's an amazing feeling for me. My world might stop turning, but I can still find progress somewhere inside it. When it seems like I have nothing to look forward to, I think about coming to work the next day and my spirits lift a tad. Faintly, I wonder if my dad would be proud of me. He would have to be, right? I'm not following his dream for me since I can't, but it has to count for something that I'm doing the same work he did.

I've been thinking of my dad a lot today. Maybe it's because I walked out of my bedroom to find that at some point before I woke up, Olivia came over and placed the football back on my end table. It reminded me of her stupid future-kids comment and how my dad would play with me. By how my chest tightened and my jumping at the sight of it, you would have thought I walked out to find a dead person in my apartment. Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't scream too. She's definitely going to pay for that.

“Lunch break, boys,” Hank announces. We all find a stopping point and start going our own ways. “Corey.”

I turn at the sound of my name. Uh-oh. “Yes, sir?”

Hank walks over to me. “If you don't have major lunch plans, I thought you could join me.”

“Um, yeah, sure.” I can't tell my boss no. Why does he want me to have lunch with him? It's all I can think about as we get in his truck and head to a nearby restaurant. Once we're seated and have ordered, my heart is about to burst from anxiety.

“I've been watching you, and Nate's been giving me updates as well. One reason why I wanted to take you out to lunch.” He pauses, and I take note that there's more than one reason. “You've been doing good, and I wanted to let you know that.”

“Thanks. I really like it.”

Hank nods. “You learn quickly. I'm pretty sure you were made for this job.” Something, an emotion I can't quite name, swirls inside me. “I'm glad you like it. If you ever need help, need to discuss something, or whatnot, you can always come to Nate or me.”

I've been racking my brain all morning, too, on how to bring up my doctor appointments. I go back to see Dr. Stewart this week and I need some time off, but I don't know how to bring it up without saying what it's for. Clearing my throat, I figure now is the time to get it over with.

“There is one thing.” Hank doesn't say a word, just waits for me to continue. “I, uh, have some doctor appointments coming up and need time off to go.”

“Nothing serious going on, is there?”

“No, sir, but they're on a regular basis and I won't know until I go in when the next one is.”

His eyes study me, possibly trying to figure out what kind of appointments I'm going to. He's silent for a solid minute. “How long do they usually last? When is your next one?”

“About an hour or so, and on Thursday in the afternoon.”

“That won't be a problem. Here's what we'll do. After this one, schedule them either first thing in the morning or last one in the afternoon and come in an hour early or stay an hour late. That way you'll still get your hours in and keep learning. Let me know which one, and I'll be sure to be there for the extra hour with you. Will that work?”

“Yes, thanks for working with me.”

He nods and is quiet for a second. “Liv told me your father was a carpenter as well.”

I wish she wouldn't say anything at all. What else has she told them? Hank is obviously waiting for an answer, so I scrounge one up. “He was. I never got to really see that side of him, though.”

Our food arrives and thankfully, Hank doesn't talk and eat at the same time. Unfortunately, he eats fast.

“Now, there is another reason I brought you to lunch.” I brace myself for the worst. “Olivia is my niece and I'm very protective of her. I'm sure you can understand since you have a younger sister.” Something else she told him, apparently. “She's been through a lot in her time, which I'm sure she'll tell you about when she's ready. She's tough as nails and has a kind, caring heart.

“There's a lot about you that Olivia hasn't said, that she purposely avoids when she calls us or stops by to have lunch with my wife. I'm assuming that means you have demons of your own. Everyone has them, but some are worse than others. Olivia is a helper, especially if she sees someone who needs it and she knows she can help.

“I'm not saying she's seeing you because of that, but because I know Olivia, I also know she's helping you fight whatever battle you've got going on. All I'm asking is that you don't allow her to get hurt because of it. I don't want to see that happen to her again.”

Again? What is he talking about? Does this have to do with the person she knew who suffered from depression? The way he says it doesn't give me any insight as to who it was. I nod because I don't know what to say. My mind is twisting and turning, trying to analyze his words too much to think clearly enough. For some reason, I remember her saying that she had to see a therapist. Maybe that's why. Because someone hurt her bad enough that she needed help? I don't know.

She probably would give me a look and remind me why I need to go had she seen my reaction to the football this morning. When Hank and I return to the job site, a few minutes early, I go to my car and dig around in the backseat. My fingers finally find the referral slip for the therapist. Should I make the appointment? If Olivia is right about it helping, then maybe I should try it. If it helps me, then it'll indirectly help me not hurt her, like her uncle requested.

My heart beats against my ribcage so fast and hard, I'm surprised I don't break a rib. My hand shakes as I dial the number and lift the phone to my ear. After telling them who referred me and what time would be best, I have an appointment with a therapist late Friday afternoon.

I WASN'T GOING to do anything else for Valentine's Day since I gave her a gift, but I've had a damn good day and I want to do something with Olivia. After stopping by the grocery store and unloading all the groceries, I text her since her car isn't in the parking lot when I get home.

Me: Where are you?

Olivia: just parked.

Me: Ditch the hoodie and come to my place. :)

These moments, where I feel like I could conquer the world, like I'm not in the mist of a battle for my sanity, they don't come often or last long. I want to take advantage of it while I can. Plus, I didn't see Olivia yesterday because she was tutoring Ben, so I stayed here and went to bed early.

I miss her.

I think.

Kind of? I don't know.

She had a lot of homework to do too, so we didn't even text a lot. I'm ready to see her. While I wait for her, I go ahead and start making dinner. This is as romantic as I get, cooking dinner. I hear the door open and glance up to see her walking in with a snug long-sleeve shirt on and a pair of jeans.

“You're cooking?” Olivia gives me a quick kiss before eyeing my ingredients on the counter. “I thought you said you couldn't cook.”

“I said it depends.” I pick up the piece of paper. “I can, only if I have a recipe.”

The corners of her mouth lift and fall as she tries not to smile and laugh. “Did you go hunting for a recipe?”

“No. My grandma gave it to me a while back. If you're going to laugh, go away.” I turn back to my paper and read what I'm supposed to do. “I'm not a freelancer. I need something to follow or all hell breaks loose.”

Olivia finally laughs. “You only do what it tells you to do too, then?”

“Yep.” I get started putting together a casserole that's one of my favorite things to eat. Olivia tries to say something to me, but I huff and look at her. “I can't talk and cook either.” She laughs at me again and I glare at her. “Is this the thanks I get for trying to do something for you on Valentine's Day?”

“Sorry. Do you want any help?” Olivia's still grinning, though.

“No, you'll distract me. Go get the yoga stuff and we'll do that while it's in the oven.”

Her grin widens. “I
knew
you loved doing it. You wouldn't volunteer to do it otherwise.”

“Just go before I change my mind.”

She does, thankfully, and that allows me to focus on cooking. Once it's all ready to go into the oven, Olivia has changed and is waiting in my living room with the mats laid out. I switch out my clothes as well. Olivia has finally stopped laughing at me while we do this. The only time she will is if we're doing a new pose or whatever and I have trouble with it. I've gotten better at it too. Never in a billion years would I have thought that I would have gone from playing football to doing yoga.

The timer goes off just as we finish. When we have food on our plates and are sitting on the counter, I angle myself towards Olivia.

“Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah. Normal day in college. You?”

I smile. “Very good day. Look.” Reaching into my pocket, I retrieve my phone. After finding the first picture, I show it to her. “Those are the new counters in the kitchen we're remodeling. Finished it today. How fucking cool is that?” This is the first real progress I was involved in and I snuck a few photos before I left, so I could show them to her. I lean over and swipe the screen to show her a few more, explaining what we had to do to get it that way.

“Wow, Corey. It looks great. I'm happy you're loving this so much.”

“Me too.” I want to add that I may love it more than football. I love my job so much, and I'm worried if I admit that, if I get too attached to it, then something will happen and I'll be right back where I started. Dreams shattered and lost in a world where the only thing I loved is taken from me. I want to tell her that being at work makes me forget why I loved football so much. Football was an escape more than anything.

Building things isn't just an escape, though.

There's progress to see at the end of the day, more than what a scoreboard every weekend could show. I don't even have to escape. I can think about things, process them, and feel better by the time I clock out. Carpentry, I think, is healthier for me too. I'm not burying myself in it to try and stay afloat. Things are decent, though, so maybe that's why. I keep quiet because I don't want to get too excited too soon.

I'm not going to put all my eggs in one basket again, because those fucking eggs will break when the basket falls. Shaking my head, I clear my thoughts and change the subject.