Chapter 29
Chapter twenty-nine
Avery
We got back to the apartment building fifteen minutes ago after an awkward car ride. I dropped the girls off at their door as soon as I could, before hauling my ass back to my room, ready to pass the fuck out.
I’m exhausted.
It’s been a massive day with the game, constant fouls, the crowd taunting me, and then the flight. All I wanted to do was have a decent night’s rest and be as prepared for the wedding as possible.
Sleep had just started to take me when the knock came, sharp, fast, and jarring enough to send me upright. My brain immediately jumped to worst-case scenarios. Has something happened to them? To her?
I shoot out of bed, jogging to the door and yank it open.
Olive’s cradling an enormous, empty water bottle close to her chest. Her hair’s a full-blown bird’s nest, and her face is scrubbed mostly clean.
There’s smudged mascara clinging to her lashes and streaking down her cheeks like she forgot she was wearing any when she washed it off. She looks like a half-melted panda.
"Are you going to invite me in, or just stare at me funny?" Her voice is raspy, almost non-existent. If I know her the way I think I do, she’s going to hate herself for drinking when she wakes up in the morning.
She might even panic, thinking she won’t be able to sing at her next shows.
"Sorry," I say, clearing my throat as I hold the door open wider for her to step inside. Her eyes linger on my bare chest longer than necessary, her tongue swiping across her bottom lip as her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink.
She steps are slow and deliberate as she walks past me. She's not unsteady exactly, but definitely not graceful. Her shoulder brushes mine, and I feel the chill in her skin
She walks with intent, making her way through the kitchen, past the lounge room, and into my bedroom like she’s done it a hundred times before. "You coming, AJ?" I can hear the humor in her voice, no doubt trying to see how far she can push me, but it doesn't work.
Not anymore.
"In a minute," I call back, heading to the kitchen and grabbing a glass from the cabinet. I’m already bracing myself for whatever drunk-confessional version of Olive I’m about to meet.
"Hey, Avery?" she calls out, her voice way too energized for this time of night.
"Yes, Olive?" I shout back over the sound of me rummaging through the cupboard.
"Can I be your big spoon? You’re basically a giant, I think it would be fun to be your little jet pack." I pause, glance up, and catch her shadow on the wall—arms out like wings, playfully pretending to fly.
"Sure," I reply, even though I have zero intention of sleeping beside her tonight.
I fill her glass with ice water, press my hands to the counter, and take a few slow breaths, trying to shake off the weird energy crawling down my spine.
I make my way to my bedroom, fingertips numb, when I stop at the door to poke my head inside.
She’s asleep.
Naked, but asleep.
Her oversized sweatpants, jumper, socks, and underwear are thrown all over my room, with her water bottle resting on the nightstand beside the bed.
The hotel’s white sheets are covering every incriminating inch of her, and I sigh a breath of relief knowing three things.
One: I didn’t have to turn her down for sex.
Two: I wasn’t the one who stripped her down.
And three: I didn’t need to cover her up, because she did all of that for me.
I plug her phone into the charger I had placed there earlier for me, and turn off the lamp I had left on.
Closing the bedroom door behind me, I make my way back to the hallway cupboard, pull out a duvet and an extra pillow, before making myself comfortable for the night.
Well, as comfortable as I can considering the only part of me that fits on this couch is from the waist up.
Lucky I don’t have a game for a couple of days, or I’ll be screwed.
I try to push out the thoughts of my impending wedding, and will sleep to take me.
I don’t allow myself to think about the potential repercussions or the fact that it could ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for.
Not to mention, it could completely destroy any chance Olive has in making waves in the music industry, like she hopes to do.
She’s way too talented to let a fuckup like me ruin it all for her. But for some reason, she’s willing to give it a go.
For the sake of her career and mine.
***
My body clock drags me up before the sun even starts to rise. I sit up, rub my eyes, and stifle my yawn as I glance out the window at the predawn Vegas skyline. With a sigh, I push myself up and head into the kitchen, reaching for a glass and filling it with water.
I feel surprisingly rested, considering I only got a couple of hours of sleep. Still, I’m not stupid enough to think it’ll carry me through the day.
I hear a faint noise coming from the bedroom, and my heart thunders a little harder in my chest knowing Olive could be awake in the next room to me, probably hungover.
I sneak closer to the door and realize it’s music coming from her phone, but her gentle snores overpower the sound.
An alarm is my first guess, and when I stick my head inside a little further, my suspicions are confirmed. I tiptoe to her bedside, turning off the alarm labeled CPX, hoping it isn’t important, and head back to bed.
***
"Fuck! No, no, no no." The panic in Olive’s voice sends shock waves through me. My body moves before my brain does. I’m at the foot of the bed in seconds, adrenaline spiking hard.
"What? Shit! Olive, what’s wrong?" I don’t even think. I’m just there, on the bed, moving toward her like instinct, like gravity. She sits up, the sheet clutched to her chest, her phone in her hands. Her eyes are wide as she scrolls and taps away frantically.
"My alarm. It didn’t go off!"
She jumps out of bed, rushing around the room as if she has super speed, collecting her clothing piece by piece.
I realize quickly that this is on me.
"This can’t be happening." She shakes her head.
I somehow need to find the courage to confess that it was my fault.
"I’ve never missed one before, and it’s so new to me. What happens if I do it late? Oh my God. Oh my God." She sits on the side of the bed, shutting her eyes in frustration, before drawing deep, steady breaths while a single tear stains her cheek.
I suck in a deep breath. "I turned it off." Saying it out loud makes it worse. The words taste bitter. I thought I was helping. Thought I was doing the right thing. I only wanted her to rest. She never lets herself. Now it just feels like a fuck-up.
"You have no idea what you’ve just done, Avery.
" Her voice is shaking. "Hell, I don’t even know. What if it messes everything up? What if it doesn’t work the same now?
" She paces the room, hands flexing at her sides, chest rising and falling fast. "Why would you do that?
" Her voice breaks. "What made you think that was your choice to make? "
I hate that she won’t look at me.
"I’m sorry," I whisper, my head low. "I just thought…you needed the sleep. You’ve looked so tired. I thought I was helping."
She stops pacing, but the shake in her head is sharper now.
"You don’t get to make decisions for me. Not about this. I’ve had to be in control, because if I’m not, who is? You think just because we’re about to become—"
She cuts herself off, breathing hard.
I raise my hand when she opens her mouth to continue.
"I know what we’re doing here. You don’t need to spell it out like I’m a kid.
" My voice is low, regret creeping in. "I didn’t mean to cross a line, Olive.
I really thought I was helping. I saw the letters CPX, and figured it was just some accidental alarm you set while drunk. "
I shrug, the guilt crawling all over me.
She looks past me, her eyes unfocused.
"CPX isn’t just an alarm," she says quietly. "It’s for me. A reminder to take my medication." Her voice trembles. "Because if I don’t…" Olive's voice trails off, one tear slipping down her cheek. She wipes it away fast. Too fast. "I have to go."
"Olive, please wait."
"I’ll see you at the chapel." The door slams behind her before I can even move.
I drop onto the bed and bury my face in my hands.
So much for doing the right thing.