Chapter 3 – Olivia
OLIVIA
I’m going to die.
Knees curled into my swollen stomach, I leaned against the brick wall and stared at the sky, wishing for rain. Even a single drop of water would do. On hot days like this one, my skin ached from all the sunburns. My chapped lips cracked and split from dehydration.
I reached over and grabbed my older brother’s hand. “Tate, we should move someplace shadier. We’re too exposed out here.”
He didn’t respond, so I shook him.
“Tate, wake up.”
Our last decent meal was three days ago, when we feasted on scraps from the dumpster.
Restaurants waste so much good food. For months, we survived on whatever we could find.
Unfortunately, our last trash haul only lasted a day.
By now, the hunger pains had settled deep into my belly, stabbing like a knife.
“Tate,” I shouted when my brother wouldn’t wake. “Please don’t do this to me. Open your eyes.”
We’d been waiting in the alley behind the bakery for hours, hoping they would throw out a loaf of stale bread or even a tube of icing—anything to keep us satiated.
“Hey,” a deep voice boomed.
A shiver rushed down my arms, my heart racing faster as footsteps approached from behind. If Tate were alert, he would have already grabbed my hand and yanked me down the alley. My older brother had been running for so long that he knew nothing else.
I held up my hands. “We’re not hurting anyone.”
Store owners often called the police because they didn’t want us loitering near their businesses. People like us were not welcome in a wealthy town like Beacon Bay. But this was the best place to find discarded luxury items and high-quality food. Trash or not, it was still worth something.
“You can lower your hands.” He hunched down beside me, and I instantly recognized his expensive aftershave. “I’m not a cop.”
My mouth widened in shock.
It was the same rich boy Tate had turned down for the past few months. He had short brown hair styled off his forehead and the biggest blue eyes I’d ever seen.
“Drake,” I choked out, wondering if I was hallucinating.
Everything about Drake Battle screamed money, from his tailored shirt and pants to his shiny black shoes. He carried himself like a man twice his age, yet he wasn’t much older than me. And for some odd reason, he always wore a suit.
The gold cufflinks shone when the sunlight hit them just right. I wondered how much they cost and whether we could pawn them for a decent price. Knowing Drake, they were worth a fortune.
For months, Drake had shown up at abandoned houses and stalked us down dirty alleys, offering to bring us home with him. His kindness seemed genuine. So did those striking eyes that held me captive whenever he stared directly at me.
Tate didn’t trust people with money. Whenever Drake came around, he told him to get lost. Once, he swung at Drake, but despite his pretty-boy good looks, he could handle himself. He got my brother in a headlock and held him until he calmed down.
If Drake were to tell the police about us, we would get split up again. That was our real concern. I wanted a roof over my head, clean clothes, and a decent meal. But the thought of losing Tate again hurt too much. I’d rather struggle on the streets than live without him.
After years in different foster homes, Tate wouldn’t give me up without a fight. I was his only family. In a few months, he would turn eighteen. He planned to be my legal guardian. I tried telling him it could never happen because the cops would arrest him the second he resurfaced.
Food was becoming harder to find. The abandoned house we called home recently sold to a new owner, forcing us to live on the streets.
Drake pushed a water bottle in front of my mouth. “Here, take a sip.”
I shook my head. “Give it to Tate. He needs it more than I do. He won’t wake up.”
He stuffed the bottle into my hand and uncapped another, tipping it to Tate’s lips. “You stubborn ass, you better open your eyes and stop scaring your sister. Why won’t you accept my help and stop doing this to yourself?”
My brother coughed as Drake forced him to drink. After a few gulps, he choked on the water and shot upright. His eyes opened, narrowing on Drake, and then his fist crashed into his cheek.
“Who the fuck do you think you—”
Drake tackled him to the ground, but my brother swung at him, fists flying. Despite my brother’s attempts, Drake did not hurt him.
He curled his muscular arms around Tate and yelled, “Knock it off.”
“Fuck you,” Tate growled.
“Tate, stop it!” I got on my knees and yanked on his arm, but a punch landed on my jaw this time.
“Oh shit,” Tate muttered, blinking rapidly as our eyes met. “Liv, I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. Shit.”
Drake gripped my brother by his dirty shirt collar and pulled him closer. “This ends now, Tate. Look at what you’re doing to Olivia. Both of you are coming home with me. End of fucking discussion.”
“Why do you keep coming back, Richie Rich?” Tate sneered. “We don’t need or want your charity.”
“Then, you can work for it,” Drake shot back, releasing his grip on my brother’s shirt.
“What?” Tate’s lips parted. “Work for what? No one would hire me. That’s why we’re in this mess.”
Six months ago, Tate finally made good on his promise to find me. We’d lost contact after Child Protective Services separated us. I lived with the McDougalls for almost six years while Tate bounced between filthy, unsafe homes.
He was lucky to be alive.
I couldn’t believe my eyes the night he knocked on my bedroom window. Despite having a decent life with my foster family, I needed to be with my family. Without Tate, I didn’t feel whole.
I thought one of us would eventually find work, but no one would hire us without an address, a social security card, or respectable attire. Not that I could blame them. The dumpster smelled better than us.
“You can fight,” Drake said to my brother. “You’re scrappy. A survivor. I could use someone like you as the head of my security at Battle Industries.”
Tate scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Battle Industries? Never heard of it.”
“My company specializes in technology-based weapons.”
“So,” Tate spat back. “Like I give a fuck about you or Battle whatever.”
I shook my brother’s arm. “Please just hear him out. I can’t keep doing this. We’re starving, tired, and can’t live like this much longer.”
“If we hang on for a few more hours, we can eat at the shelter.”
I hated going there. The last time we attempted to spend the night, I almost got sexually assaulted. Tate beat the shit out of the guy.
“We’re banned,” I reminded him. “The shelter is not an option anymore.”
“Well,” Tate mumbled. “We’ll figure something out.”
Drake rose from the ground and wiped his hands down the front of his perfectly pressed pants. “Let’s go. I’m taking you home with me. It’s not up for debate.”
“Thank you,” I said, eyeing up my handsome hero.
Relief washed over me in waves, but I noted my brother’s hesitation and felt the air drain from my tired body.
“Please, Tate. It’s not charity. I’m hungry, tired, scared, and… I just can’t anymore. I want to finish school and go to college. This is not how our lives were supposed to turn out. You wanted to join the military. Maybe you could still do that.”
“I can get the parental signature waived,” Drake said. “If that’s what you want.”
My brother always talked about becoming a Marine, but without a parent’s signature, he had to wait until his eighteenth birthday to join. But the biggest obstacle was the list of charges he’d accrued since kidnapping me from my foster home.
“How?” Tate croaked, his voice hoarse, and took a swig of water. “I don’t have parents. It doesn’t matter. They’ll lock me up for stealing Liv from her foster home.”
“I have connections,” Drake said in a patient, deep tone. “Let me worry about the paperwork.”
Tate glanced at me. “I can’t go anywhere. Liv needs me.”
“I’ll take care of her,” Drake said, and it sounded like a promise. “You have my word.”
Tate ran his tongue over his chapped lips. “Why are you doing this?”
Drake rolled his broad shoulders. “Because you need someone to give you a chance, and I’m in the position to do so.”
Tate held his gaze and sighed. He was beyond beaten down and on the verge of death if he didn’t take the handout. Charity or not, we needed Drake’s help. Either we accepted it or died on the streets.
“Fine,” Tate agreed. “But one day, you’ll tell me why you’ve been chasing after us for months. The real reason. Not some made-up bullshit about giving us a chance.”
I wanted to know why Drake had sought us out. At our lowest point, he was there to rescue us from going to jail. He spoke to the police, made arrangements involving an envelope of money, and escorted us from the police station.
Tate bolted the second he got outside, dragging me away from Drake. He didn’t trust anyone but me. Nor did he believe Drake was doing this out of the kindness of his heart.
Drake offered his hand and lifted me from the ground. I smelled of sweat and dirt, standing inches from him in ratty, worn clothing, but he didn’t even flinch. He was a kind soul and genuinely wanted to help us.
“Thank you,” I whispered, forced to put my hand on his shoulder when my legs slipped out from under me. “I don’t know how we’ll ever repay you… But we will.”
Drake hooked his arm around me. “Can you walk on your own, or do you need me to carry you?”
I took a step forward and fell into his muscular chest. He smelled of a sweet cologne and the mint from his toothpaste. When was the last time I brushed my teeth? Or taken a shower? Too long to remember.
“I got you, Liv,” Drake said as he held me in his arms. “Hold on tight.”
Drake was my hero.
I would never let him go.