Round 41
ROUND FORTY-ONE
OLLIE
I see her before she sees me. Her beautiful raven hair tied in a high ponytail, her rosy red lips, swollen in a perfect bow that is magnificent when she kisses… when she smiles… when she argues.
Fuck, the last might be the best.
She wears figure-fitting jeans and the boots I stole from my sister’s closet eons ago. A blouse she spent her first envelope of cash on—she insisted on shopping with her own money—and a blazer that keeps her just warm enough to combat the cold spring breeze.
She walks in with a megawatt grin, hugging that damn kitten to her chest and cutting a beeline straight to the nurse’s desk. Because Janine waits for her with open arms and a noisy aww when she gets to hug the kitten, too.
I remain where I am, hidden in plain sight, and simply watch her exist. Because just feet from where she stands is the room she once woke up in, terrified, skittish, and untrusting.
Broken, bruised, and in excruciating pain.
Now, although her recovery is not yet complete, she’s strong and brave.
Outgoing and comfortable. Her lashes flutter down and kiss her cheeks as she chatters.
Her hands fly while she animates whatever fun thing happened today.
She allows a patient of mine—a kid—to wander across the hall and cradle Poopy McStinkypants in his arms, and, lowering into a crouch so they’re on the same level, she fingers the boy’s gown and scrunches her nose.
I had to wear those, too, buddy. They suck.
Did I expect to fall in love with a woman whose entire life is a mystery? Whose existence scares her? Whose memory may someday come back, and with it, shatter my heart?
Nope.
But am I throwing myself all in anyway? Grabbing on to what we have and riding the waves of what could come, no matter how much it may hurt if things don’t go our way?
Yes.
With my whole fucking heart.
Because I watched Tommy Watkins and Alana Page live out their love for most of my childhood.
I stood there on the sidelines, not quite in the way Chris and Alana were in.
But in enough to get an unrestricted, unfiltered view of what love should look like.
The all-consuming, obsessive, desperate kind of love that leaves a man breathless day after day.
The kind he can’t live without. And dammit, I vowed to find it for myself someday too, and if, by some wondrous miracle, I did, then I would hold on with everything I have.
Everything I am.
Everything we could possibly ever be.
I would make her happy even if it fucking killed me. And if that were the case, then I’d move into the afterlife without complaint, knowing I touched Heaven while on earth, and I would wait for her to join me again when she was done.
I found my slice of Heaven. My perfection. My purpose.
And now that we’ve traipsed gleefully across the three-month deadline we set for ourselves, I consider what comes next.
A ring, perhaps. A vow of forever. A discussion that may include dragging her clothes out of the spare room closet and hanging them in mine, and a promise that, on my very next weekend off, I’ll start rebuilding the greenhouse she sits on the porch at least once a day and stares at.
Does she even realize she does it?
When the time is right and the authorities have done their jobs, when she’s ready to talk to a judge and get her new name stamped into existence, maybe she’ll choose Darling for a last name. Save herself the trouble of making something else up.
I’m ready to share.
I don’t move. I don’t even twitch. I merely stand with my back against the wall, my feet crossed at the ankles, while I get my daily dose of Rose.
But she looks up anyway. Not searching. Not uncertain.
Her stunning brown kaleidoscope eyes lock on to mine, and after a slow beat of my heart, her lips curl into the most beautiful fucking smile anyone on this planet has ever known.
How did I exist before I knew her? How did I breathe?
Straightening her legs and leaving Poopy McStinkypants with my patient, she wanders my way. Seductive, swaying hips swing with every step. Long, dark hair bouncing with every shift of her head.
Three months ago, she was a patient. A scared, sad, broken shell of a woman.
Now, she’s a goddess, striding along the halls of my home away from home, and instead of focusing on her insecurities and oh no, what if Ollie doesn’t like me today? she walks straight into my arms, wrapping herself around my torso, and lays her cheek on my chest.
Finally, she releases a long, noisy breath. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I crush her close enough that I feel the throb of her heart against mine. “Good day at work?”
“Mmhmm.” She slides her palm under my shirt, stroking my spine with her fingertips like she knows how easily the action slays me.
“Poppy slept on Cliff’s lap most of the day, because he’s in between jobs and would rather scroll socials than start a new project at the end of a work week. He’s finicky like that.”
“Makes sense to me.” I cup her face and tilt her back, purely so I can look down into her eyes. “You’re so pretty.”
Her cheeks flame red, just like I knew they would, because if this were a cartoon, she would be Snow White, with her silky black hair and perfect porcelain skin. And if I had to, I’d play all seven of her housemates if that’s what she needed to feel whole.
Grumpy. Bashful. Happy. Doc.
I wouldn’t even take offense to being Dopey if that’s what she wants from me.
Framing her face with my hands, I draw her to the tips of her toes and press a lingering, entirely-decent-for-public kiss square on the center of her lips. Then I press another to her nose. “I was sad, thinking I’d have to wait till I got home to see you. This is way better.”
“Mmm. I agree.” She kisses my jaw. My chin. And lowering back to flat feet, she lays her hands on my hips and purrs under my massaging fingertips. “Busy day?”
“Eh. Typical day. What did you have for lunch?”
“Tacos. Like I said,” she snickers. “Cliff was bored today, so he swung by the bakery around ten and bought pastries. Then he went out for tacos and brought them back around one. Had a slice of chocolate mud cake at four.” Her brows furrow and pinch.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve gained five pounds since I started working for him. ”
I lean to the side and peek down at her ass, filling her jeans exactly how it should. “Doing the lord’s work and thickening you in all the right places.”
She slaps my arm, though it’s barely more than a tap. “Am I just an object for you to sexualize, Doctor Douchebag?”
“No.” I straighten out again and take her lips with mine. “You’re also funny. And smart. You have did you knows that excite me every single day. And you’re good with a hammer.”
“Oh no! Uh oh!” The little boy fumbles the cat. Because she wants to run to her owner. “Help!”
Grinning, Rose turns and rescues them both, crouching and cuddling Poopy against her chest. And though I consider following her along the hall and begging Dawes to clock in early today, my phone chirps and draws my focus.
I take it out of my pocket and spy Cliff’s name on the screen, so I answer and bring the device to my ear. “Hey. She’s with me.”
“Good.” The sound of a closing door ricochets from his side of the line, then the unmistakable clatter of blinds dropping into place. “Something weird just happened. I wanna run it by you.”
I settle back against the wall and enjoy the quiet of a small-town hospital. “What thing?”
“Is she with you with you? Can she hear me?”
“No.” My heart kicks in my chest, even as I look Rose up and down. “She’s with the cat and my patient. What’s up?”
“Alright. So get this.” His feet pound against the steel stairs inside his building. “This dude just stops by. Never met him before in my life. He’s not a local, but he wanders in and starts chatting about getting work done on a house.”
“Okay…?”
“But he’s not saying where the house is, Ollie, and I watch the real estate websites more than any normal, sane dude would. Ya know, ‘cos I wanna snap up any investments I can.”
“Sure.” I roll my eyes upward. “A little greedy of you, but fine. What about it?”
“He hasn’t bought property in Plainview, Ol. And not in Barlespy, either. I make a point to know who’s buying where and whether that property needs work, ‘cos then I swoop in like their very own Fairy Godmother and become their builder. That means I’m already suss, right?”
“Get to the point, Troop.”
“He’s full of shit! He doesn’t have property, not here, anyway, and he’s not looking for a contractor. But he was looking at Rose, and Rose was looking at him. And when she left, he was tryin’ real fuckin’ careful to ask questions about her, but without being obvious.”
“What kinds of questions?” My pulse quickens, but when Rose glances over her shoulder, I paste on my most convincing smile. “What was he asking?”
“Like, how long she’s lived here, and what she does for me. He thought maybe we were together.” He nervously clears his throat. “Not that we’re ever inappropriate or touchy or too close or anything. I swear—”
“I trust you. Always. What did he want?”
“He didn’t really cut to the chase, but it felt off.
He asked if she was the chick on the news, since he’d seen her on there.
I couldn’t really lie and say no, so I just shrugged and said she was.
Then he was interested, like, did she really lose her memories?
And do I think they’ll ever come back? He was totally smooth with it all, and to be honest, he ain’t the first person who’s come in here asking about her.
She’s a bit of a celebrity, depending on who you talk to.
And her medical stuff is kinda public, seein’ as how she did that interview.
I’ve had other, way less subtle assholes come in and try to get a look at her in the past. But this one feels different. ”
“And she was looking at him, too? Like, she recognized him?”
“Looking at him like she was curious. Like her brain was niggling, but she couldn’t quite place it. I sniffed him.”
“You—” I choke out a laugh loud enough to bring Rose to her feet. “What?”
“She freaked that time at the gym, right? ‘Cos of my aftershave. And maybe it means nothing, or maybe it means a lot, but I kinda figured the smell meant something to her. Like if she had a dude in her past who was hurting her, maybe that’s the cologne he wore.”
“Alright. And?”
He sighs. “He was wearing a different aftershave. Not just no aftershave, like he forgot. But a completely different smell, and she didn’t get close enough to catch a whiff.”
“If he was there on the guise of looking for a contractor, he probably left a name, right?”
“Nope. He didn’t. And I even offered my hand, shook his, and told him my name.
He didn’t reciprocate. So, I dunno. It might be nothing.
But I’m sayin’, I’m glad she’s there with you right now, and not walking on the side of the road with her little watch-cat.
Poopy is cool and all, but I don’t trust her to do a damn thing if a situation arises.
Ya know… except nap. She’s good at that. ”
“I appreciate you letting me know.” I scratch the back of my neck, fixing my expression as Rose turns with Poopy propped across her forearm, all four legs dangling over the side while she sleeps. “I’ll keep an eye on things. Maybe call Billy and see what he thinks, too.”
“Good plan. I might swing by the house tomorrow morning and pick her up for work if that’s alright with you?
I’m not in the business of smothering another man’s girl, but thinking of her walking into town on her own is giving me hives.
If I tell her I was already driving by, she’ll probably be okay with it, don’t you think? ”
“Yeah. I think.” I take her hand and wrap her in close just as soon as she’s near enough. Then I bury my lips in her hair. “I’m clocking out here in a minute, and we’re heading home for the night. Text me later if you need.”
“Yeah.” He grunts, the squeak of his office chair bouncing along the call. “Will do.”
“Alright.” I drag the phone away from my ear and end the call, then, slipping the device into my pocket, I merely hold her.
The silence. The moment. Just like I do every time someone comes to Plainview looking for the woman on the news.
Because maybe that was my idea—blasting her face all over televisions, hoping her people would find her—but now, thinking of the outcome we once openly wished for makes me sweat.
Because what if? What if she decides to leave?
“Are you okay?” More intuitive than I give her credit for, Rose presses her ear to my chest and exhales. “You’ve turned tense all over. Did something happen?”
Tell her? Don’t tell her?
“I’m okay.” I press a kiss to her forehead and hover for a beat.
“Stick with me till Dawes gets here, okay? I miss the hell out of you when I’m at work, and my hours at home are mostly used up on sleep.
” I pull away and search her eyes. “Doesn’t feel fair that Clifford the Big Red Dog gets more awake-time with you than I do. ”
“Only when he’s in between projects,” she counters with a sweet smile.
“The rest of the time, he’s out all day and the office doors are locked, or I’m working from home and our entire working relationship is via text.
” She lifts the cat, placing her soft fur not so far from my nose.
“She vomited on his leg today. It was glorious.”
I laugh and tickle Poopy’s chin. “Clever girl.”