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Olivia
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Over the next week Rourke came by for dinner twice, but both times he was cold, his smiles never reaching his eyes. His words were cutting, his tone lifeless when he talked to me, if he talked to me at all. I might as well have not been there. Cheryl at first teased him, then went quiet as she looked from me to Rourke. Yet when she saw I was just as confused she stopped her teasing.
Which is a part of the reason why when Cheryl told me he’s on his way over for dinner—well, when she asked me what I want Rourke to pick me up for dinner—I lied to her about having to go over to my brother’s place. Now I’m frantically trying to stuff my fat ass into jeans and pushing my feet into flats. I need to be gone before he gets here.
With a wave goodbye, I’m out the door within five minutes of her saying Rourke’s name. Nope, I’m not sticking around to make a fool of myself. Not after how my stupid, stupid heart started beating two times faster and felt like it was trying to escape from my chest at the idea of seeing him again. Even though he’s gone ice cold toward me. This whole gaga over Rourke thing has to stop; I have to get a grip. There is no one better at helping me get out of the clouds and hit the ground with a thud than my brother, Gabe.
It’s a little after seven so he won’t have eaten dinner. I stop to pick us up a rotisserie chicken since he loves those things, some French bread that he won’t eat, and fried okra which he will eat, bitching at me the whole time for getting it.
His lights on the outside of the building are off. I call him as I pull outside the garage entrance. There’s the front where customers come in with a register and office, then there are four bays for cars. Gabe can do cars, it’s what the shop was first opened to repair, but it’s evolved to almost all motorcycles and only a handful of cars. He opens the heavy metal door to the garage with a nod. Then he sees the food I’m carrying. He hugs me with his arm around my neck, giving me a kiss on the top of my head.
“What’s the matter, little Liv?”
“Why does something have to be the matter for me to want to spend some time with my big brother?” I avoid his sharp, bittersweet chocolate brown eyes, so like my mom’s they always bring a twinge of pain when I see them.
He slaps my ass hard as I walk in front of him to go upstairs to his apartment. “Avoiding the question is the same thing as lying.”
“Asshole,” I mutter as I practically run up the stairs to get away from him. It doesn’t work, he’s six three and could take the stairs three at a time if he wanted to. He’s still muscle bound from his time in the Army, he was a paratrooper. He loved jumping out of planes until one time he jumped, and his parachute didn’t open. One of his team managed to soften his landing somewhat, but he still broke about a dozen bones. That was six years ago, and he decided to leave then rather than get shipped home in a body bag like our dad. “I’m too damn old for you to spank me. Stop it, jerk face.”
“You’re never too old for a spanking. I would love for you to come over more and bring dinner while you’re at it, and you know it. It’s not my fault you only do it when you need to talk to someone who won’t just tell you what you want to hear.”
I roll my eyes as I go into his kitchen, the space is one large, open room. The kitchen is industrial with butcher block countertops and everything else stainless steel. There is a massive island separating the kitchen with barstools, the only real place to eat. A television is the focal point of the living area, while a large leather couch in the shape of an L sits in the middle of the huge space. I helped him pick out some large closets to break up the space and have a way of blocking off the bedroom. His bathroom runs the length of the other side of the room, and is the only real room closed off from sight. “Well, excuse me for not wanting to interrupt you and some chick going at it in the garage.”
“Well, if you called first you wouldn’t interrupt something, and it only happened twice.”
“Oh shut up, please don’t remind me. Do you want a beer?” I ask as I pull one out.
“I want one, but you aren’t getting one unless you plan on spending the night. There is soda in there, or water.”
“Bossy,” I mutter as I grab a Dr. Pepper, then pop the top. I rarely allow myself to have soda, and the fizzy sweet has me sighing with pleasure. Grabbing plates, I bring them to the island where Gabe is picking at the chicken.
“Fried okra? I tell you every time, Liv, don’t buy this stuff. There’s green beans or something else.” The words get lost as he starts popping the little pieces of fried yummy badness into his mouth.
I laugh as I make my plate. I’m able to get a few handfuls of okra before he growls and I give up trying to get close to it. Gabe is one of those guys who requires complete focus on whatever he’s doing. So it’s silence as we eat, a comfortable silence, though. Even if Gabe weren’t my brother I’d like him, for all the reasons most people don’t like him. He’s dead honest to the point of being mean. Then there’s the way the guy is never nice, if he pays you a compliment treat it like gold, because it is. He has a low tolerance for bullshit and considers anything that isn’t important to him bullshit—and there are very few things that are important to him.
But there’s this other Gabe, the Gabe who is loyal to the end. If he likes you, if you managed to win his friendship and he cares about you, there isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you if it’s within his power, and he’s not above going outside the lines of polite society to do it. When he got back from overseas he was still healing and wasn’t in the best shape. Still, he saw things were wrong between me and Connor. He told me to leave Connor if I needed to. But the last thing I was going to do was run from Connor to Gabe. I learned my lesson: no one else could make my life better but me.
My plan had been to wait until my sister left for college. She really liked Connor, and she felt safe in the home we had created for her. Only six months before she left, as she and I began making plans for her room and board and setting a budget, Connor started pushing for me to take the money out of her account. I resisted, then started checking our accounts, accounts he always told me I didn’t need to worry about because as the man he was responsible for them. Stupid as it sounded, it was how it had been with my parents, even when my dad was away, so I didn’t think anything of it.
When I saw just how much damage was done, I filed for divorce and filed charges against him for theft and forgery. On the advice of my aunt I had kept a small account my grandmother had given me separate from all of our other checking and savings. It was only six thousand, but it was important to my grandmother because it was there in case I ever needed to leave my husband. The account was one she had set up for four daughters and at the time seven granddaughters because she wished she’d had it while she was married to my abusive, alcoholic grandfather. I was able to prove I never intended for Connor to have access and that he managed to get it and forged my signature on the slip to pull the money out.
Over the course of the year, the time it took to get the divorce granted, Connor prosecuted and the bills sorted, Gabe never said a word. He was a silent source of comfort and advice, and he gave me a place to sleep while I got my crap together. Then almost eighteen months after I thought it was over, I woke up to a phone call from Connor saying he was sorry as he cried then hung up. I found out someone had broken into Connor’s place and beaten him so badly he was nearly unrecognizable. Connor had been extremely vain. Even as I told myself it wasn’t Gabe, two days later Gabe dropped off eight thousand dollars at my place. He told me to consider it my divorce settlement. We never talked about it or Connor ever again.
I’m picking at my chicken when Gabe gets up to get another beer. I love that about Gabe, he’s so like our dad. He never asked me to get him a beer, he never expected me to bring dinner or cook when I stayed with him for that month after the divorce. As far as our dad was concerned, he was there to take care of the women in his life, not because he didn’t think we could take care of ourselves but because he wanted us to know we meant more to him than what we could do for him.
Gabe pulls at his massive beard. I notice it is slowly going gray amid the coal black, matching the silver appearing in his buzz cut. “Talk, Liv, what’s up? Is it the new job or our bratty little sister? Or is it finally a guy?” I blush and he smiles. “Finally. Damn, I was beginning to think you’d shut down the store forever. Which is bullshit. One bad apple shouldn’t spoil the whole damn orchard, sis.”
“It’s not like that. He’s like so out of my league it’s hilarious to even think of something happening with him for longer than five minutes. I just... I’m not sure if even five minutes is a good idea.”
“Okay, again I call bullshit. You’re an awesome woman. There are far more men out of your league, who don’t deserve you, than there are in your league. But you’re gonna have to settle sometimes; those are the facts of life. What’s wrong with getting a little ass and keeping it low-key?”
I fight not to roll my eyes. Gabe is crazy sometimes. “Oh a few reasons. It’s Rourke freaking Vega and he just happens to be my boss, because his mom is my new client and he’s paying the bills.”
His eyebrows go up. “Nope, Rourke Vega definitely isn’t in your league. He’s exactly the kind of guy you should stay away from. The guy is too used to having whatever he wants the way he wants it. Unless you mix it up and make him work for it, then no, even five minutes is a bad idea. Coming from a guy who hates it when chicks play games. This isn’t a game really, you just have to make him work, ’cause if you give in too soon he won’t appreciate what he worked to get. Make him see all those chicks he’s fucked are cubic zirconia, and you are a diamond.”
“Gee, thanks. I think.” I’m still confused.
“What don’t you get?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t ask like it’s a stupid question since that was confusing as shit. The guy is my employer for the next six months so nothing is going to happen in that time, he made that crystal fucking clear. Then I don’t get you thinking I’m some kind of ho who just gives it up anyway. I’ve only been with two guys ever: Connor, who I didn’t sleep with until we were two months in and seeing each other every week. And a random hookup, but that’s it. Two guys, it’s not like I give it up to just anyone.”
“Wait. So Vega told you he wasn’t going to fuck you while he was your employer. How the hell did you two get that far when you met the guy like three weeks ago?”
Crap, I blush so hard I get dizzy for a minute. “I—look, it doesn’t matter how he told me, it just matters he did.”
“No, it matters. Has he copped a feel or kissed you?” Gabe is looking like scary-ass biker dude who will break you in half for touching his bike, or in this case his sister.
“No, none of those things. It’s nuts and a part of the reason the whole thing seems like some bizarre dream. When we first met, it...there was just something there. Then the same day, after I met with his mom and we had dinner, I might have—I don’t know what either of us did. He just told me as I was leaving employees were off-limits, I was off-limits and to leave before he made a liar of himself...” I shrug as I trail off, remembering the moment in the kitchen when I fought the urge to throw myself at him and beg—for what, I don’t even know. It takes a minute to realize Gabe is just staring at me. “What?”
He says it so quietly, as if he were whispering it to me. “You’re in love with him.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. No. I am not. It’s absurd, it would never work. I fight to get the words out, but I can’t and I hate myself then burst into tears. God damn it. Gabe holds me close and doesn’t say a word.
***
Rourke
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“I think I’ll actually start spending the night starting tonight. If that’s all right with you?” The words are out before I’ve thought them through. That’s a lie, I’ve been thinking about sleeping here, with Olivia right down the hall from me, almost continuously since I got here and about ten times a day over the last two weeks. Even as I’ve been doing my best to push her away, to keep away from her, she’s on my damned mind every single day.
Then I get here to a lecture from my mother to be nicer to Olivia. She was upset Olivia had left the moment she knew I was coming. It was clear Olivia was hurt enough by the way I was acting toward her that she couldn’t take it anymore. The thought of Olivia running from me burned as badly as the gunshot through my body had, leaving a different path of destruction.
I knew my trying to freeze her out was hurting her, only I told myself it was the right thing to do, to keep her away from me. When I saw her eyes light up when I walked in the room, it shook me at how happy it made me. Only it was wrong, for the both of us. I had to put space between us, make it clear it couldn’t happen not just for her, but for me too.
The problem is, it hasn’t worked. I have to find my equilibrium again, I haven’t found it away from her; maybe it will take being near her to find it.
“I’m busier than I thought I would be. With the new people at my downtown hotel, and I’ve been roped into more panels since people have seen me around since I came back. There’s actually a meeting at six in the morning tomorrow I’ll have to be at.”
My mother’s eyes glow a bright amber, the way they do when she’s very happy or excited. “Dear, this is your home. You never have to ask permission to stay in it. You know I love having you here. Fair warning, Olivia is almost as much of a night owl as you are. She’s taken to her late-night swims and sometimes she’ll be up reading the night away. Just please, try and be nicer to her.”
I nod, not able to meet her eye. “I’m going to run and pack a few things, then come back for the night.”
“I’m tuckered out, it’s straight to bed for me. I’ll be asleep when you get home.”
I hesitate. “Maybe I should wait until Olivia gets home.”
“No need. I really am going straight to bed.”
“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, but I’ll probably be gone before you get up.”
“Good night, dear.”
***
Olivia
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I’m not surprised the house is dark when I get home, although I do feel guilty. It’s a little after ten. My head is still pounding and my eyes have only just stopped hurting from all the crying I did on Gabe’s shoulder. There was a lot of Gabe reassuring me it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was, and even more of me telling him it was actually worse than that. When Gabe got a booty text he ignored it, but I knew it was time to leave. I was tired of crying over something that felt like it was out of my hands anyway. In my room I strip, then grab my toweling robe. A swim sounds perfect right now.
I dive into the deep end then begin a few slow laps. Then I swim below the surface, reveling in the heated water all around me. After a while I finally feel better. Rolling onto my back, I gaze up at the stars, kicking my feet a bit and moving my arms from time to time to stay above water. It’s crazy that in the heat of the pool I get goose bumps and shiver. I feel like someone is watching me, but it can’t be. The fence is a seven foot solid wood privacy fence, and none of the houses are two stories for blocks.
“Fuck.” With my ears below the water the word is cushioned, but it’s still so loud it stops my heart for a moment at what it means. I jackknife from floating and my feet are searching desperately for solid ground, but there’s nothing. I’m in the deep end on the other side of the pool, and by the time I grab for the edge of the pool I hear the sliding glass door close.
Oh god, oh god, Rourke saw me naked. He saw me naked and then he ran away. What is the matter with you? Don’t get your feelings—hurt it was a good thing. I wonder if I can stay in here forever, or if I should make a run for my room and stay in there forever, or if I should grab my robe and make for Gabe’s place and text Rourke that I quit. My head falls to the edge of the pool with an ow-inspiring thud. At least that answers one question. Despite what he might have said, when it came down to it, my body was far from perfect and he didn’t want it.
Slowly I swim to the shallow, end then step out of the pool. I wrap my robe around me, cinching it tight enough to leave a bruise. Opening the sliding glass door, I find the house dark, the only light coming from my bedroom where I left the door partially open. I slip into the hall bathroom and rinse off the salt water quickly, then brush my teeth. The sight of Rourke’s toiletries laid out next to mine feels intimate. He’s sleeping here now, for the next two to three weeks. It’s seven steps from my door to his, I counted.
Out of the bathroom, I go into my bedroom then close the door. I find clean panties and my sleep shirt and put them on. Turning out the light, I climb into bed but my mind refuses to shut off; it keeps going over Rourke’s exclamation before he fled. I know I didn’t hear the door open, and it’s usually loud. Wouldn’t I have heard it if I were just floating like I was? I’m sure I would have.
Then I recall the moment I felt like I was being watched. I was. It was only two minutes, maybe three, but he’d watched me. Rourke hadn’t taken one look at me and ran. He took his sweet-ass time looking me over, then...what? Did he come to his senses or something? I have no idea if it’s better or worse knowing he hadn’t just run when he saw me naked. Because now all I can do is wonder: if he had taken his time, did that mean he liked what he saw?