6. Chapter Six
chapter six
. . .
Carter
I stared at the blueprints spread across my desk, the lines, and angles blurring together. The community center project consumed my every waking thought, a constant hum of calculations and revisions buzzing in my skull. But today, a new distraction had slipped into the mix.
Olivia. The woman who had waltzed into my office this morning with a bright smile and a backbone of steel. I'd thrown everything at her—my clipped orders, my exacting standards, my relentless pace. And she'd taken it all in stride, never once faltering or losing that damned sunny composure.
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my jaw. I had to admit, I was impressed. It had been a long time since anyone had managed to keep up with me, let alone anticipate my needs with such uncanny precision.
She sat at her desk outside my office door, her fingers flying over the keys with impressive speed. Her brow furrowed in concentration, a loose tendril of chestnut hair falling across her cheek. Without breaking her rhythm, she tucked it behind her ear, revealing the delicate curve of her jaw.
I caught myself staring and quickly looked away, focusing on the work spread across my desk. What the hell is wrong with me? I never paid this much attention to my assistants.
But Olivia was different. In a few short hours, she'd reorganized my entire filing system, scheduled three crucial meetings I'd been putting off, and even managed to sweet-talk that asshole developer in Chicago into extending our deadline.
I glanced at her again, this time noticing the rigid set of her shoulders, the way she winced and shifted in her chair every few minutes. Is she in pain?
The ache in my chest took me by surprise. I recognized that pain, that struggle to maintain composure in the face of relentless discomfort. It was a battle I had witnessed firsthand.
The memory was a sucker punch, the familiar ache of grief and helplessness threatening to overwhelm me. I was twelve years old again, watching as my mother's face contorted in agony, her delicate frame wracked with spasms of pain.
“Mom, why are you crying?”
I stood in the doorway of my parents' bedroom, clutching the report card I was so eager to show her. My mother lay curled on the bed, her face buried in a pillow as sobs wracked her thin frame.
“It's okay, baby,” she managed, lifting her head to give me a watery smile. “Just having a bad day.”
I padded closer, my brow furrowed with concern. “Is it because you're hurting again? ”
Her smile faltered, and she reached out to smooth my hair. “Yes, sweetheart. But I'll be alright. I promise.”
It was a promise she hadn’t been able to keep. I gripped the edge of my desk, willing the tightness in my throat to subside. It had been years since I'd allowed myself to think about those dark days, the slow, agonizing decline that had stolen my mother piece by piece.
A soft knock dragged me back to the present. Olivia stood in the doorway, a stack of papers in her hand. “Are you okay? You looked... I don't know, far away for a second there.”
I schooled my features into a neutral expression. “I'm fine. Just lost in thought about this project.” I gestured vaguely at the desk, hoping she wouldn't press further.
Olivia nodded. “I have those permit applications you requested. I've organized them by priority and flagged any potential issues for your review.”
I took the files, scanning the meticulous notes and color-coded tabs. Damn, she’s good. “Thank you. This is excellent work.”
She beamed at the praise, and something tugged in my chest. I quickly tamped it down, focusing on the papers in front of me.
“If there's nothing else, I'll get started on those contract revisions,” she said, already turning to leave.
“Wait.” The word escaped before I could stop it. She paused, looking back at me expectantly. I drummed my fingers on the desk as I frantically searched my brain for an excuse. “Your chair. It doesn't look very ergonomic. We should get you a new one.”
Her brow furrowed. “Oh, it's fine, really. I don't want to be any trouble. ”
“It's no trouble,” I insisted. “I can't have my assistant developing back problems on my watch. Consider it done.”
She blinked, clearly taken aback. Hell, I was taken aback. Since when did I care about my employees' lumbar support?
“Well, thank you,” she said, a small smile playing at her lips. “I appreciate it.”
I waved her gratitude away, uncharacteristically flustered. “It's nothing. Now, those contract revisions?”
“On it, boss.” She tossed me a cheeky salute before slipping out the door, leaving me staring after her.
Boss . The word echoed in my mind. I'd worked damn hard to earn that title. But there was something about hearing it from her lips. A flicker of warmth, of connection.
I shook it off, turning back to my blueprints with a scowl. I didn't have time for these... feelings.
“Are you all right?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
She froze, her shoulders tensing before she plastered on another smile. “Oh, I'm fine. Just a little stiff from sitting too long, I guess.”
Bullshit. I recognized that look, that mask of cheerfulness. I'd seen it on my mother's face too many times to count.
“Take a break.” My tone was gruffer than I intended. “There's a yoga mat in the storage closet if you want to stretch. ”
Surprised gratitude flickered across her face. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
As she left, I stared at the empty doorway, a strange mix of emotions churning in my gut. Concern, yes, but also a grudging admiration. Despite whatever pain she was dealing with, Olivia had tackled every task I'd thrown at her.
I turned back to my work, trying to focus on the intricate details of the community center plans. But my mind kept returning to Olivia. What was causing her pain? How long had she been dealing with it? And why the hell did I care so much?
An hour later, I emerged from my office in search of coffee, only to find Olivia's desk empty. Panic flared in my chest before I spotted her through the windows, moving gracefully through a series of yoga poses in the courtyard.
The late afternoon sun bathed her in golden light, highlighting the lithe lines of her body as she flowed from one position to the next. Her face was serene, free from the tension I'd noticed earlier. I allowed myself to watch her for a moment, captivated by her quiet strength.
Then I caught myself. These were dangerous thoughts. Caring only led to pain and loss. I'd learned that lesson the hard way.
When Olivia returned, cheeks flushed and eyes bright from her yoga session, I pretended to be absorbed in my work. But I couldn't help noticing the way she moved more freely as she settled back at her desk.
“Mr. Cassidy?” she called. “I've finished compiling those market research reports you asked for. Should I email them to you, or would you prefer a hard copy? ”
I looked up, meeting her warm hazel eyes. “Both, if you don't mind.”
“No problem!”
Her efficiency was both impressive and a little unnerving. By the time the end of her workday rolled around, we'd accomplished more than I typically managed in three days.
“I think that's enough for today. You should head home, get some rest.”
Olivia nodded and began gathering her things. “Sounds good. Is there anything else you need before I go?”
I hesitated, an unfamiliar urge to prolong our interaction tugging at me. “No, that's all. But... good work today, Olivia. Really.”
Her smile widened, genuine pleasure lighting up her face. “Thank you. I'm glad I could help. Have a good evening, Mr. Cassidy.”
And then she was gone, the click of the door echoing in the sudden stillness. I slumped in my chair, scrubbing a hand over my face. What was happening to me? I'd never been one for small talk. And yet, with Olivia, the words seemed to come unbidden. The urge to reach out, to connect, to...care.
I shoved the thought away, disgusted with my own weakness. I refused to let myself be vulnerable. Not again.
“She's gone, son.” My father's voice was hollow, his eyes vacant as he stared at the freshly turned earth. “She's not coming back.”
I stood beside him, my fists clenched at my sides. Numb. Empty. The pain would come later. The grief, the rage, the bitter ache of loss. But for now, there was only the yawning void where my mother had once been.
“Why?” The word tore from my throat, raw and bleeding. “Why did she do it?”
My father shook his head, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “I don't know, Carter. I guess the pain was just too much for her to bear.”
Those final words echoed in my mind, a bitter reminder of all I had lost.
I couldn't let myself care for Olivia. It was too risky. I had to keep my distance, to maintain the walls I had built and fortified.
And yet, even as I made the vow, I knew it was futile. Because somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, Olivia Friedman had slipped past my defenses. She’d had a fleeting glimpse of the wounded boy beneath the cold facade.
And God help me, I wanted her to keep looking.