Nepenthe (Bracing for Love #2) (28 page)

Is that why Olivia is seeing me? I'm basically a version of Aaron, but one she can fix. I mean, look at how far I've come already, largely due to Olivia and her help. Am I her replacement for Aaron? Why in the hell didn't she talk to me last night? Maybe she was planning to tonight and needed a little time to get herself together first. I can definitely understand that, so I need to make sure I don't get pissed over it. As long as she was in fact going to tell me about this, that is.

Fuck. The timing of this sucks. I grab my football and lie on the couch, tossing it in the air like old times. Is Olivia going to text me and cancel dinner? Does Aaron know she has a boyfriend? He could be trying to get back together with her for all I know. Using being hungry as an excuse, I pull my phone from my pocket and text her, only to see if she'll text back.

Me: I'm guessing our plans are postponed??

The minutes tick by with no response. She's so busy with Aaron she can't even take two seconds to text me back. Part of me wishes she wants me over there with her for support or something, just so I can be with her. I want to punch him in the face and I don't even technically have a good reason. Yet. If I knew what happened or why he was here, then I could figure out whether or not to barge in.

Shit. I wish we weren't so similar. I wish he wasn't here. I don't want Olivia around him for her sake, and for mine if I'm being honest. I sure as hell don't want him alone with her. She was obviously around him yesterday. What if she didn't tell him about me? He definitely needs to know she's taken. That she's mine. Not his. Not anymore.

Right?

Or am I his replacement?

Groaning, I tightly grip the football. I can't torture myself like this for God knows how long he'll be over there with her. My appetite is gone, but I can't stay and wait. First, I make sure my spare key is under the mat in case she decides to come over once he leaves. Then I write a note and place it on the table with the football, telling her I left to go people-watching and to text me. Hopefully, the million thoughts and questions will stop if I'm not within walking distance of them.

Two and a half hours pass with me sitting in a parking lot, watching people come through the drive-thru at a restaurant. My muscles seem to tighten and tighten until I'm wrung to the point of exploding. My thinking is split in half. One half is all jealousy-driven. The other is worried for Olivia and what spending time with this guy may do to her. I'm in the middle of a text to Lucy, to check in with her about her trip, when my phone vibrates with an incoming text.

Olivia: Thanks for the note. Can you come back now please?

Me: On my way. Did you ever cook? Are you hungry?

Olivia: No and no.

Me: I'll pick you up something.

After getting her some food, I drive home. I run my sweaty hands down my thighs numerous times on the way. I'm not sure what I'm going to find on the other side of my door, assuming she's still in my apartment.

She is.

Olivia is sitting on my couch with her head in her hands, not bothering to look up when I enter. Can't decide if that's good or bad. I set the bag of food on the coffee table and sit next to her, laying an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to me. The squeezing in my chest lessens a bit when she leans into me. Olivia snakes her arms around my waist and tilts her head back to look at me.

“I'm sorry I didn't text you back earlier. I know you've probably been going crazy wanting to know what's going on.”

I nod as we lean back into the couch. “Crazy sounds like a nice word for it. You okay?” That's my number-one concern at the moment. She doesn't look as if she's been crying, so that's good.

“I don't know. Are you okay?”

My eyebrows pinch together and I frown. I already don't like where this is going. “Depends on what you're about to tell me. Eat first.” Can't blame me for prolonging the inevitable if it's helping Olivia in the meantime.

We don't talk as she eats, which makes me second-guess wanting her to do this first. I'm antsy to know already. Finally, she finishes. Olivia angles herself towards me, criss-crossing her legs as she reaches for my hand. This isn't going to be good. She's being too cautious.

“I was going to tell you tonight why I came home early. You know how when your siblings bring up your parents, you freeze?” I nod. “Mom sent me to the grocery store and I ran into Aaron. I froze while he was trying to talk to me. I was stunned at seeing him, that he was talking to me, but mostly I wanted to get away from him. Corey, it was bad. I left the cart in the middle of the aisle and just turned and left. When I got to my parents', I told them some excuse, got my things, and drove straight here.

“This is my safe place. I wanted to come back and I wanted to be around you instead.” She squeezes her eyes closed, taking a deep breath. “I had no clue he would follow me here. My mom must have told him where I live. Anyway, he wanted to talk about what happened. After all this time, he wanted to talk about it.” Olivia shakes her head, but her voice softens as she continues, “I had to let him, Corey.”

“Okay.” I nod in an effort to be supportive. Even though I'm dying to know, I force myself to say, “You don't have to tell me what you two talked about unless you want to. I get that it's between you and him.” The words nearly kill me.

“No, I'll tell you.” A steady exhale relaxes me. “He mainly wanted to tell me the full story and how he's worked to get better. Then he wanted to catch up. And he apologized too. That's it, really. He's in a steady relationship, he's in college, and he's happy.” Olivia shrugs like this is all over now.

It's not.

I still have questions I don't want to ask, but need to ask.

“Why didn't you tell me he played football?”

Her eyes widen with surprise. “How did you know that?”

Answering a question with a question is never a good sign. “He was at my door instead of yours. I told him which apartment was yours and then asked him. He has the look. Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't think it mattered. Football is a sore subject for you anyway.”

“Says the girl who showed up at my door with a football and asked me to throw it with her.” I shake my head. Seeing Aaron has rattled me, possibly more than it did for Olivia. “Why did you want this?”

“Want what?” she replies, confused.

“Us. Why did you want us? Why do you push me so hard all the damn time?” I remove my arm from around her shoulders and stand, walking a few steps away to gain some space. “Why didn't you tell me that I'm a fixable form of him? Is that why we're seeing one another? Because you want to fix me and help me? I mean, even Hank said that you're a helper and he didn't want you to get hurt because of it.

“Am I a problem for you to fix and make all better, Olivia? What the fuck are we even doing? I practically have both feet through the door to crazy's house and you're trying to be my damn savior. I can't stop thinking that you happened to find me in a similar state as him and you jumped at the chance to replace him with me and that this is all about you redeeming yourself or some shit. I don't know. This is making me lose my fucking mind,” I ramble, feeling quite defeated.

Olivia's lips part and close twice. I move to sit on the coffee table across from her, reaching for her hand. The words come easier and much calmer than I expect. “I need you, Olivia. You stabilize my crazy, my dark, and all the bad in my life. I can't handle you being the opposite of that. So tell me we aren't part of your past with him.”

As the seconds tick by in silence, my heart rams against my chest, the blood rushing to my head, and the fear of what she may or may not say is unbearable.

“IF I WAS the type of girl to slap people, I would smack you right now, Corey.” Olivia's voice is hard as steel. “You
must
be losing your mind to ask me questions like that! What in the hell is wrong with
you
? Do you want me to throw those back at you? Why do you want us, Corey? Because I can help you? Am I just a helper to you? Why do you never fucking talk when you need to, huh? Instead, you do whatever the hell you want to call what you just did!”

She shakes her head in disbelief as the bad feeling in my gut intensifies. “I get that seeing him stressed you out. It stressed me out too. What I don't get is why you're freaking out more than I am! Believe it or not, you're my rock and you've just pulled the rug right from under my feet. Get your shit together, Corey!” Olivia stands and starts to walk away.

“Wait.” I grab her elbow, but she yanks it away. I've pissed her off big time.

“No!” she yells as she swivels to face me. “Don't apologize now to make up for it. I don't understand you, Corey. Not nearly enough, apparently. Just leave me alone!” With that, she turns and slams the door on her way out.

So much for a nice night with my girlfriend.

Groaning, I sigh and then get ready for bed. Fucking things up shouldn't come as a surprise. I've been doing it for so long, but I always hoped I wouldn't when it comes to Olivia. With my siblings, they are always going to be there no matter what I do. We're always going to support one another. I don't have a link like that with Olivia. She can come into my life and leave as she pleases. If I mess up, she doesn't have any reason to give me a second chance. Or a third. Or fourth. Or fifth. Or whatever number we're on now.

I want to go apologize, but I don't. I'll leave her alone. Because she asked and because I've exhausted all my energy.

I GUESS IT'S a good thing I went to sleep early because I have to wake up early this morning. It takes a lot of strength to throw the covers back, get out of bed, and take a shower. Every moment takes effort and every breath sucks in heavy air. My feet manage to carry me to work, though. That's better than going back to bed.

Carpentry brings me no solace today. Maybe if I could stop thinking about last night, then it would. At lunch, I text Olivia.

Me: Can I come over after work?

Olivia: I have other plans.

Well, damn. I can't fix things if she's busy with her “other plans.” I try not to let it bother me that I'm having to wait, but it does anyway. I'm about to leave for today to see Ms. Cynthia when Nate stops me.

“Hey, we're going to a bar tonight to watch a hockey game. Same place and time as last time, just no drinking,” he jokes, causing me to laugh.

“I'll be there.”

The only real reason I'm going is because I know if I go home and can't talk to Olivia, I'm going to slip further than I already have. How will that help the situation with her? It won't, so if I have to go sit in a bar with a bunch of guys and watch a hockey game, then I will. Plus, it could be fun.

While I wait for Ms. Cynthia to call me into the back, the temptation to text Olivia to pass the time is too great. Instead, I let my anxiety take over my legs, making them bounce up and down with worry. She's still mad, so texting her simply to hear from her probably isn't a good idea. It's times like this when I wish I was that romantic, big-gestures type of guy. Then I could do something like that and she would forgive me.

I have to work to earn it.

“Corey, come on back,” Ms. Cynthia says from across the room. I do and once we're settled, she looks at me with those see-into-my-soul eyes. “How did it go with your siblings last weekend?”

It feels like it's been more than a week since I've seen her. “Good. My sister surprised me by having a party and inviting all my former teammates.”

Her white brows rise. “Yet you said the weekend went good. I'm not sure I believe it.”

I chuckle. “Overall, it was good. I freaked, of course, but Olivia calmed me down and gave me like a pep talk. It was fun, actually. I got to catch up with an old friend of mine, too. Plus, I told my siblings.” That last sentence hangs in the air between us.

“It couldn't have been too bad considering the world didn't burst into flames,” she replies with a small smile.

“You have a point. I feel better now that they know, but at some point, I need to work on being able to talk about the hard things.”

“What do you mean?”

“My parents. My siblings are ready to start talking about them, and I told them I needed more time. Old habits are hard to break, is what I said.”

“What makes it so hard?”

God, she's pulling out the big guns today, and we haven't even begun to talk about what I really want to talk about yet. “I don't know.” Her eyes harden. I run my hands down my thighs. “When shit gets hard, I'd rather run than talk about it. Besides, when I do talk, it turns out I shouldn't have and it blows up in my face.” Last night is a prime example.

“You're right. You got into the habit of running instead of talking. We can work on that, so one day you can talk openly with your siblings about your parents and football and depression. Don't get discouraged because you are unable to do that right this second, okay?” I nod. “Now, what do you mean when you talk it blows up in your face? Has something happened?”