37. Liv
Heart racing, I practically skipped down the stairs of the chemistry building at Portland State University.
I’d only visited once before, for the career fair, but something about the college campus got me all in my nostalgic feels.
It would be so lovely in autumn, when all the trees lining the quad and streets changed color.
If my plan worked, I would see it again. Explore and enjoy it.
Ash didn’t know I was in town. As much as I wanted to reach out, I hadn’t told him about the interview, unsure if he would care, given the weeks of radio silence from both of us.
Maybe the time apart was enough to let this thing between us die, if he let it. I hadn’t heard from him, so I didn’t know. Was scared to know. Maybe this was what he wanted.
My future remained in free fall.
The interview went well. At least, I thought so. With my mind running through every word I said, I was second-guessing everything. Shit. Shit .
The cold wind blowing through my coat dragged me away from those worries for a moment, but tendrils of anxiety still wove around my fingers. I tapped them to keep from squeezing until my knuckles popped.
When I reached my car and checked the temporary parking pass’s validity for the three hundred and thirteenth time, I typed a quick thank-you email to the interview committee before trying to pull myself back to the real world without losing my way in the labyrinthine streets.
A week of uncertainty passed, with every vibration of my phone sending me into a frenzy.
Every day, I packed the few possessions in my apartment and obsessively checked the job posting, refreshing the page dozens of times.
It hadn’t updated in the days since my interview, which was encouraging.
Unless it wasn’t, since I’d had no news.
The job was perfect , though. It was part outreach and part instruction, and I’d be one of the sponsors of a women in STEM society on campus. If I got it.
If you’re good enough, a voice suspiciously like Alex’s kept intoning whenever I thought about anything else.
If you were good enough, they would’ve called you by now.
You’re going to have to go back to Hurst with your tail between your legs.
Or worse yet, you’ll have to go home to Raleigh and beg for a job there with---
The one good thing I learned while working with Brad was how to tune things out, and the little part of my mind speaking in Alex’s voice grew easier to drown out.
Sure, the thoughts drowning it out were still anxious, the churning waterwheel in my head trapped in the usual worries; rent and Ash and credit cards and Ash.
I wanted the job so badly. I wanted so badly to stay . I wanted Ash . If he’d even take me back after the way I’d hurt him. The way we’d hurt each other… it wasn’t insurmountable, not if we worked together and learned from our mistakes instead of letting them hang between us.
Ugh, but if the wheel kept spinning, I’d implode.
Instead, I tried to plan for my dream job, because the job at PSU would be my dream job… if I got it. Lesson plans and demonstration ideas ran through my head like a news ticker, but then I worried creating actual plans would set some weird negative energy in motion to keep me from getting the job.
Damn, I was a mess .
Telling myself not getting the job wasn’t the end of the world didn’t help either. I’d tangled getting the job and reuniting with Ash so completely in my head they’d become one and the same.
When a call came from a local number as I was browsing the stacks in the public library, I shrieked. The stern librarian, who, despite looking not much older than me, had all the air of an old schoolmarm, aggressively shushed me as I raced through the library to the lobby to answer the call.
* * *
Hey, I’m in town. Can we talk?
Ash
(typing)
(typing)
Watching the typing bubble appear and disappear might have been the most nauseating three minutes of my life.
Yeah. Game tonight. Meet me after?
Was he inviting me to the game? Did he mean meet him at his house? What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to ask and press further.
I’ll be there!
But before then, I had another stop to make.
* * *
The dull concrete building housing Hurst Labs was especially drab in the cold, cloudy afternoon light when I pulled into the parking lot.
A box sat in my passenger seat; I planned to trade a box for a box.
All the Hurst Labs notes from working at home and my security badge for a box full of papers and books and sticky notes and pens.
After a day of deliberation and waffling—I really, really didn’t want to go back—I decided it was best to get the whole ordeal over near the end of the day rather than show up first thing in the morning when all my former coworkers would be arriving.
If I ran into Brad, I couldn’t promise not to make a scene without the threat of repercussions looming overhead.
Since it was after four-thirty p.m., there was a ninety-percent chance he was already gone. I was banking on it when I stepped inside the chilly atrium and waved to the security guard.
We chatted for a few minutes, and the guard apologized, saying I’d have to call up to Hurst Labs to have someone send down my things.
“I’ve got nothing but time, now,” I said drily, and the guard gave me a sympathetic smile.
Settling into one of the uncomfortable chairs lining the wall, I pulled a book out of my bag, the one Ash gave me for my second hockey game.
Opening to my bookmark, I tried to lose myself in the story.
Several pages in, the Highlander pulled some idiotic self-sacrificing bullshit thinking he knew best for the lady, without giving her a choice.
It was my least favorite trope, and if I’d been at home, I would’ve thrown the book at the wall. Instead, I glared and flipped pages with a fervor that might have ripped them if I wasn’t careful.
Stupid Highlander. Stupid man. Stupid, stupid, stupid .
I seethed. As more time passed, I grew more and more frustrated at the book and at my situation.
How long did it take to bring a box downstairs?
It wasn’t like I accumulated much stuff in the time I worked at Hurst Labs.
If this was some sort of power play, it made no sense.
All it did was serve as yet another irritation from the company I’d hated from the start.
With every page I turned, the security guard glanced up, startled at the aggressive sound.
Making me wait was another sign of their complete disrespect and disregard.
I had somewhere to be. Somewhere much more important.
Nervous energy pitched in my stomach, the beginnings of a storm before it kicked into violent waves. Missing Ash didn’t help. A hollow ache settled between my ribs as if I lost something I hadn’t known existed when he’d pulled away.
But I was prepared, armed with a small flowering ivy plant and a handful of seed packets. The seeds were for any inevitable fuckups I made, but I thought maybe we could work through them together. Grow something new.
“Ahem.”
I had to resist pinching the bridge of my nose. Of course, Brad had said ‘ahem’ as a word. Of course, Brad was somehow working late the one time I needed him not to. Of course, they sent him down.
“Oh. Hi.”
Brad leaned his floppy frame across the waist-high security desk, one arm casually draped over the box presumably containing my precious office supplies. It looked like he held it hostage.
“Livy. Can we talk?”
“Don’t call me Livy. We’re talking right now.” It took everything I had not to let acid drip from my words. My nails dug into the paperback cover, probably leaving scraped half-moons in their wake.
“I meant somewhere private.”
Alarm bells rang out. Not the scary klaxons of an air raid, but the obnoxious ones I set fifteen of to make myself get out of bed. “Oh, darn. My security badge doesn’t work anymore. I guess you’ll have to give me my stuff.”
“Let me help you carry the box to your car.” He pulled it closer.
“Ugh. Fine. Whatever. I have somewhere to be.” Maybe walking fast would get this over sooner and I could fucking leave . Sever all ties with this hellhole.
Brad hefted the box and followed close on my heels as I headed outside.
As I exited, I caught the guard’s eye, who gave a tiny nod, jerking her chin in Brad’s direction. I took it to mean the woman would keep an eye on us.
I didn’t think Brad would physically harm me. But I was grateful to have someone looking out for me.
“So.”
“A needle pulling thread?” I rolled her eyes when the joke went over his head. Truly, he was uncultured swine if he didn’t know The Sound of Music. Captain Von Trapp was…oof. Anyway. “What is it, Bradley? I don’t have time to chat.”
“Are you still seeing that meathead?”
My lips formed the word meathead . It was awfully rich, coming from a guy who still dressed like he was in freshman year Greek Week. He still popped the collars on his neon-bright Polo-branded polo shirts for fuck’s sake.
“I am still dating Ash Wilder, and don’t call him a meathead.” Technically, we weren’t together anymore, but I hoped to change that soon. Not that it was any of Brad’s business. I’d make up a Canadian boyfriend if it kept him off my back.
“You can do better.”
All the acid I hadn’t let flow into my words earlier churned now, roiling in my gut, and burning up my throat, especially once I realized I didn’t have to keep myself in check.
“Oh, yeah? Who did you have in mind? Yourself?” I hadn’t sounded so sardonic and just plain mean since I was thirteen telling off Carter Lee for trying to grab my ass in the lunch line.
I’d called him a pencil-dicked fuckface.
Screamed it loud enough for the entire cafeteria to hear and fall silent.
“Yes.” Superiority laced his tone in the single syllable.
My jaw dropped.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am clearly the better option.”
“First, no. Second, not what I meant? Brad. Why in the hell would you think this,” I waved between us, “would ever happen?” In the distance, a car alarm began beeping, adding another layer to the already fraught situation.
“You always flirted with me! I thought you wanted this.”
“ I flirted with you ?” We were so close to my car.
Ugh. I just wanted to escape. Placing my hands on the top and bottom of the box, I tried to take it, but he held onto it.
“Dude. I have done nothing but ignore or push you away since you asked me out on my first day . I literally can’t imagine anything I’d want less than to do anything with you.
” You’d think shoving him away instead of kissing him would’ve clued him in.
His dark blond brows rose in horror or disbelief, I wasn’t sure. Didn’t care. “But—I?—”
“While you take the time to figure it out, give me my stuff, and I’ll leave so you can get back to work.”
“I was on my way out,” he muttered, almost as an aside, finally letting go of the box. “It’s been awful since you left, Livy. Everything is so hard without you here.”
“You survived before I got here; you’ll be fine with me gone.”
“I’m sorry. I was so mad , Livy. You were supposed to be with me.”
I froze in the process of hoisting the box to my hip, realization turning my stomach. “What did you do ?”
“I changed some numbers in your data while you were gone. Remember when the machine broke? And I moved up the meeting and presented your data without you.”
“You can’t be fucking serious. You incompetent little shitstain! You got me fired . For what? What did it get you?”
“I didn’t think they’d fire you. I thought you’d come to me for help.”
If the box hadn’t been in my hands, I might have throttled him. “Thank you for telling me. This has been…enlightening.”
“If I talk to Dr. Hurst, I bet they’ll let you come back!”
I didn’t think there was enough money in the world to make me go back to work with him, but I enjoyed the moment anyway. “You’ll tell them you fucked it up on purpose?”
“What?” His forehead wrinkled in confusion as he ran a hand over his sandy hair. “No. I’d tell them you said you were sorry, and you’d work really hard to make things right.”
“Fuck you very much, Sweetcheeks .” He didn’t get it, and he never would. “I’m good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a hockey game to get to.”
* * *
Before the game began, I waded through throngs of people heading toward concessions. Any other time, I would’ve hated the closeness, all the assaulting sounds and scents, but single-minded focus helped drown it out.
Usually, when Polly sat in the stands rather than a box she preferred to arrive early, and sure enough, there she sat in her Knights emblazoned navy pea coat.
A single blue beacon amongst the empty stadium seating waiting to fill.
Something clenched in my gut as I grew nearer, my breaths catching between my ribs.
It wasn’t just Ash whom I left; I left Polly too, my friend and semi-surrogate grandmother. The warm smile on Polly’s face when she turned and found me eased some of the tension.
“I’m sorry I left,” I blurted by way of greeting.
“Nonsense, darling girl. I understand. You don’t get to be my age without gaining some perspective. And some people would do anything for those they love. Parents or otherwise.” The manicured white arch of her brow ticked upward ever so slightly.
“I know I shouldn’t have left things the way I did.”
“But you came back.”
* * *
The game passed in agonizing slowness. Every sound hit my ears, and every roar of the crowd raised the tiny hairs all over my body.
It was constant torture, but I couldn’t bear to leave.
I had to stay. If I left, I wouldn’t have the courage to seek him out at home.
The arena was neutral space, and I wouldn’t have to endure being in his home and having to leave.
During my absence, I realized how much I loved being there. Loved the garden and the library, and the mirrors in the gym. Even waking up to Polly’s coffee and pastries in the morning. (Although I was grateful Polly’s room was far away from Ash’s.)
I wanted to tell him from the moment I realized weeks ago how much I loved him, even if I didn’t know how to say it.
But I didn’t want to cheapen it by telling him from across the country.
It needed to be in person. It needed to be more than a declaration.
Proving it, showing up for him. He needed support, encouragement.
Someone who believed in him. And if I was going to crack my chest open and bare everything to him, to let him in, it needed to be in person.
Even if I wasn’t certain he wanted to hear it.