Chapter Twenty
Hayes
Right. Right. Left under cut, right jab. Left hook. Each punch drives through the punching bag until the exertion radiates through my muscles, from my arms to my shoulders, back, and stomach.
I put the weight of my body into every jab, begging for exhaustion so it will distract me from my thoughts.
She’s back to treating me like a ghost, but I can’t pretend we’re strangers. I can’t erase everything that’s happened between us. I can’t forget the way her arms felt wrapped around my waist.
I can’t stop thinking about the way she smells. The twinkle in her eye when she smiles. The lithe body in those damn bikinis.
Beautiful, beautiful, Olive.
And the diamond ring on her finger. Because she’ll never be mine in the way that I want her to be.
She went to visit her fiancé this weekend, and all I can imagine is his hands on her. His mouth touching all the places that I’ve dreamed about.
The bastard won’t ever understand how lucky he is to be chosen. He will never cherish her the way she deserves. She’s Olive-fucking-Greenwood.
My fists slam into the bag again, pummeling the leather until I’m gasping for breath, letting strangled grunts of frustration tumble out of my throat.
It’s not enough.
My leg whips out, and my shin connects, once, twice. Jab, Jab. Left kick.
He’s probably peeling her clothes off now.
Right, right, left. Right kick.
Dragging his lips across her delicate collarbone.
“AHH!” Roundhouse right kick.
I collapse to my knees, staring up at the rafters of the garage. She’s going to leave. Once she’s married and done with the Porter case, she’ll move back home to her condo with her husband.
I finally got her back, and I’m supposed to say goodbye?
I should. I should let her move on and live her life the way I always wanted her to. It’s not her fault that I never actually wanted to let her go.
My phone starts ringing atop my workbench, and the vibration has it nearly falling off the table top by the time I reach it. Olive.
Doesn’t matter where she goes. Whenever she needs me, I’ll be there.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” her voice cracks. It’s nearly 10 pm, and she should be with Elliot. Such a stupid name.
For a stupid fucking man.
“What’s wrong?”
She doesn’t respond, but I hear rustling and sniffling like she’s trying to pull it together. I don’t give a shit about that. “Olive?” I need to know what is wrong.
“I messed up.”
“What happened?” Maybe she accidentally killed him, and now she needs help hiding the body. No. That’s ridiculous. Don’t get your hopes up.
“I came here to surprise Elliot, but he wasn’t even home. He’s on a business trip.” I hear her roll her eyes. “I got mad because I didn’t even know about it, and I turned around to drive home, but I ran out of gas.”
“Are you stranded on the side of the road, or could you pull in somewhere?”
“I pulled into some hotel on the side of the freeway, but I haven’t gotten out of my car. I’m pretty sure I see lot-lizards,” she whispers as if someone could hear her.
A small smile tugs at my lips, imagining her panicked eyes. “I’ll be right there.”
“No, you don’t have to come. I’ll call AAA.”
“You called me, Liv.”
“I know.”
“You can always call me.”
She doesn’t respond.
“Drop a pin, I’ll leave right now.”
“Can you drive your SUV?”
“Sure.” My bike would be faster. “Why?”
“I was hoping you’d stay on the phone with me until you get here.”
“Yeah, dove. I can do that.”
Unfortunately, all that is left unsaid between us makes small talk difficult. I can hear her hesitation as the silence on the line grows. She needs something to take her mind off the situation she’s in currently.
“Talk me through the Porter case since we have pre-trial next week.”
I can’t see her, but I imagine her smile.
“Okay, well, I’ll start by showcasing my evidence regarding Randall Porter’s conspiracy to obtain Second Chance Sanctuary by illegal means to build his private properties.
I have multiple witnesses, including contractors and city ordinance officials who he discussed building plans with.
“I have multiple letters from Lochlan Dane refusing to sell his property. I also have all of the communication and letters of harassment that Mr. Porter sent him under the guise of legitimate mayoral duties.
“But most damning will be the text message communication between Randall and his brother Jeremiah. So, I’ll express to the judge that Randall used his brother to do his dirty work. I’ll be able to provide a lengthy criminal record for Jeremiah Porter.
“I’ll also show the judge that I have financial statements proving that Jeremiah was in financial distress and likely more easily swayed to do Randall’s bidding.”
“That’s a strong case, Liv.”
“I know,” she states proudly. “This is only pre-trial, so all of that might not be necessary, but I want to make sure that the judge knows I’m going to nail these suckers. Hopefully, their defense attorney underestimates me because I want to get them on every last charge.”
“You want them to underestimate you?”
“Absolutely. That way, I can wipe the floor with their lame arguments.”
“You’re an incredible lawyer, Liv. They’ll never see you coming.”
“I know!” She sing-songs. “I love seeing the opposing attorney’s face when they realize they’re totally fucked.”
“Easy killer,” I laugh with her until the silence returns. “I’m really proud of you, you know that?”
The sounds of the road are all I hear for a few minutes, and I think she won’t respond until she finally sighs. “I went to law school because of you.”
“What? Why?”
“After seeing what happened to you… I never wanted to feel that helpless again. Seeing all of the people in the courtroom who held all the power shifted something in my brain. People need advocates during vulnerable times in their lives. I always wanted to help people, and I realized that I could use my knowledge to my advantage.”
There’s a lot we haven’t talked about with our past, especially the day I got sentenced to prison, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. It was the last time I saw her.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I’m sorry for how everything went down. I–”
“Don’t, Hayes. I’m not ready. I certainly don’t want to discuss this over the phone.”
“I know. Just tell me that you believe that I’m sorry. I need you to know that how I left things with you is the biggest regret of my life.”
“I believe you.”
It doesn’t change things, but at least she believes me. That’s one bit of closure that I’ve needed for a long time.
“I’m almost to the hotel,” I update her, trying not to trap her in another serious conversation.
“I thought about you every day,” she admits, surprising me. “I went to college and cried myself to sleep every night. Thea was my roommate. That’s why she knows about you. She held me when the sobbing became uncontrollable.”
“Liv…”
“I’m in the back part of the lot. See you when you get here.” She hangs up, and I’m left staring at the black screen.
I’ll never be able to fix all that I’ve broken.
* * *
11.5 years ago…
Tap. Tap. Tap. I wait as I listen to the rustling of movement behind the window, and her to slowly open it.
“It’s so late, Hayes.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve just missed you, Liv. Haven’t seen you in forever.”
“I’ve been busy–”
“Busy, I know. I’m starting to feel like you’re avoiding me.”
She smiles softly and chuckles. “That’d be silly. I’d never be able to hide from you.”
“That’s right. I’d track you down.” I smile. “Can I come in?”
Her eyes grow a little wide with panic. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? I’ve spent the night before. I’ll be gone before your mom wakes up.” We’ve slept in the same bed on numerous occasions, and I’ve always been a perfect gentleman. I don’t know why it would be a concern now. Unless…
“Do you have a boyfriend, Liv?”
“What? No.”
“Then why can’t I come in?”
“You’ve made it clear you only want to be my friend.”
“You’re my best friend. I just wanted to hang out with you, I wasn’t going to jump your bones.”
“Right, because why would you do that?”
“What is going on?”
“Nothing, Hayes. I’m just setting boundaries.”
“Liv, we’ve talked about this.”
“No, you’ve talked. You put up the wall between us because you think I’m not old enough to make my own choices.”
“That’s not–”
“My friend thinks that I’m very mature for my age and that I’m way too smart to date high school boys. But you still think I’m a kid.”
“I don’t think you’re a kid. And, what fucking friend is telling you that you’re mature for your age?”
“Why? Are they wrong?”
“I mean, no, but it just seems odd…”
“Bye, Hayes.” She closes the window in my face, and I’m left staring at my befuddled expression.