Chapter 3
Olivia
Olivia drifted in and out of sleep in the early hours of the morning, exhausted but relaxed, snuggled into Connor’s side.
His warmth permeated her skin, and his subtle smoky-citrus scent filled her nostrils.
He felt like home. Like happiness and love, and acceptance.
As she teetered more to the awake side of consciousness her heart flipped in her chest, her affection for him hitting her like a freight train.
Staying with him long-term would lead to certain heartbreak. Again.
The realization had her on her feet and gathering her belongings before she had cleared the sleep from her puffy eyes. She needed to get to work for her seven am shift, anyway. Leaving early one day didn’t give her an excuse to be late the next morning.
Early mornings were the bane of her existence. The exhaustion never went away, and sleeping on a couch hadn’t done her any favors.
When she badged into the hospital, she headed straight for the break room and poured herself a cup of coffee.
She searched the fridge for creamer, sighing when she came up empty.
Resigned to drinking her coffee black, she settled onto the couch and held her breath as she scrolled through the news on her phone.
It could be tempting to avoid everything going on in the world, but she refused to be ignorant.
Every morning with her cup of coffee, she scrolled.
For those fifteen minutes she absorbed the horrors and triumphs of the world, and when her cup was empty, she did her best to compartmentalize and focus on what she could control.
Not finding anything life-ruining or tragic upon her first scan, she got a few paragraphs into a puff piece about a local children’s gymnastics team before the fridge slamming startled her. Her attention jumped to a petite, dark-haired woman, and Olivia smiled. Mel was always so nice and upbeat.
“Mel! How are you today?”
The nurse met her gaze but rolled her eyes and turned her back to Olivia instead of answering or returning the happy greeting.
Olivia frowned, confused at the slight. She was probably cranky about the missing coffee creamer—a surefire way to ruin her coworker’s day. Standing, she grabbed the container of sugar from the cupboard for Mel.
“Uh, are you okay?”
She ripped the sugar from Olivia’s hand. “I’m fine.”
“If you weren’t, you could tell me. I’m always happy to help.”
Mel stirred sugar into her sludgy coffee and stole a seat on the couch, curling her Lilo and Stitch scrub-clad legs beneath her. She grunted in acknowledgement of Olivia’s offer but didn’t take her up on it.
Olivia sat next to her and finished her coffee, doing her best to shake off the abnormal behavior.
She refused to cry at work. These people were her coworkers.
They didn’t owe her any explanation for their moods, just like she didn’t owe them any explanation as to why she looked like she hadn’t slept in a week and her cheeks were flushed and chapped.
Obviously, Mel was going through something.
The crummy interaction set the tone for her day.
All the nurses muttered under their breath and rolled their eyes at her when she interacted with them.
Her colleagues in the billing department greeted her in the morning as usual, but throughout the day she noticed a lot of them staring.
Whispering to each other. Conversations silencing as she walked past desks or into conference rooms.
Her confusion gradually faded. The news of her breakup had spread, and for whatever reason, the gossip hadn’t painted her in the best light.
The nurses probably heard Lance’s or Amanda’s version of events and ran with it, twisting the story until Olivia became a villain.
She’d seen it happen to multiple other women in the last few months.
Once the nurses decided they didn’t like someone, the entire hospital staff kept them at arm’s length.
Healthcare could be a toxic, incestuous, soul-breaking industry, but she’d never been on the receiving end of all the negativity.
After work she allowed herself to have another meltdown in her car.
When her tears ran out, she wiped at her swollen eyes and attempted to book a hotel room for a couple of nights until she could figure out a better plan.
Her card declined. She attempted it again, and again it declined.
Her stomach dropped. She had no way to check the account balance.
Lance handled all the bills and finances, and he gave Olivia a budget for her needs.
She checked the time. Fuck. Lance clocked in for the day already. She didn’t want to talk to him, but she’d have to in order to get access to any funds. Sighing, she turned the ignition in The Reaper and pulled out of the work parking lot. One more night with Connor wouldn’t kill her.
Olivia stopped at McDonald’s on the way to Connor’s house. A Diet Coke wouldn’t fix all her problems, but it sure would help, and she could get a treat to bribe Connor with.
The restaurant would also allow her a clean place to wash her face and put herself together before she had to beg her best friend for a place to stay.
Her change of clothes and the addition of concealer and lipstick were unnecessary, but the makeup helped her cover the redness of her eyes and provide a confidence boost. She painted it on.
Fuck, she hated asking for help.
Parked behind Connor’s G-Wagon again, she stared into space.
She just had to contain her stupid little lovesick heart.
Being around him hurt too good. He kept her safe and comfortable, and often downright giddy.
But they were friends. Only friends. If she spent too much time with him, she might forget.
It was only for a day. Or two. Until she could talk to Lance and figure out her next steps.
A cherry-red sports car pulled into the driveway behind her, blocking her in.
She sipped her soda, letting it bring life back into her before forcing herself to exit her vehicle.
Olivia hoped for a few minutes to talk to Connor alone, but now someone had seen her lurking and avoiding going inside was questionable behavior.
Better to rip the band-aid off. She grabbed the greasy bag from her passenger seat and headed for the door, her shoulders back and head held high.
She didn’t recognize the red car, but she’d bet the twelve dollars in her wallet that it belonged to one of his teammates. Olivia refused to look back as she opened the door and let herself into Connor’s house. As she went to close the door behind her, a large hand shot out to hold it open.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, pulling it open again.
She looked up and up and up, finding the man Connor seemed inseparable from these last few years. She’d never met Connor Valentine before, but if she intended to stay with Connor for any length of time, she’d be getting to know him pretty well.
Looking at him now, in the flesh, Olivia could get on board with the idea.
It might take her attention from the boy she’d loved for as long as she could remember.
He was fucking tall. And broad. And had Prince Charming hair and pretty blue eyes lined with thick, dark lashes.
She gazed at him through her lashes and put on a shy smile.
Sticking her hand out, she said, “Hi, I’m Olivia.”
His cheeks turned pink, but he accepted her handshake, holding on for a split second before letting go of her fingers and saying, “Connor.”
Olivia tried to maintain eye contact for a few more seconds, but his bashful expression had him staring straight at the floor.
“I know,” she dragged the word out, studying him briefly before turning on her heel and leading him further into the house.
Connor wasn’t in the immediate vicinity, and when she called his name, no answer came. Olivia set her drink and his apple pie on the counter and went about making herself at home. Unsure which room he’d put her in, she couldn’t get settled in yet.
She unloaded the dishwasher, putting away clean bowls and plates just for something to do with her hands while ignoring the prying eyes of Connor Valentine. He didn’t seem inclined to speak to her, only stare. She focused on her chore and hoped Connor would show up soon.
There she went again, waiting for him to rescue her. A pattern she’d been stuck in since she was six. The awkward silence dragged on for ages, interrupted by the clinking of dishes as Olivia tidied the kitchen.
Finally, when Olivia thought she might burst out of her skin, Connor entered through the sliding glass door off the kitchen. Shirtless and sweaty, he stared at his phone, oblivious to the two people standing in his kitchen. She stared, her mouth going dry. This was such a fucking bad idea.
When he looked up from his phone, he froze mid-step.
“You’re here!” he said, breaking into a trot to scoop her into a hug.
She wrapped her arms around him and laughed, relieved by his reaction to her coming over unannounced again. “I was here yesterday.”
“Yeah, and you left without saying goodbye. I was worried.” Connor let her go, spotted her cup, stole it, and took a deep gulp. When he noticed his friend staring between the two of them, his tone became accusatory. “Did you come on to Lover?”
Olivia choked on her own saliva and pounded on her chest until she could breathe again.
“What?” she sputtered. “No!”
Connor waved a hand at his flushed buddy.
“Why does he look like that then?”
“Why does he look like what? I introduced myself and minded my own business. He’s the one who’s been staring.” Olivia raised an eyebrow at Connor Valentine, trying to prompt an explanation.
Connor’s semi-mute friend cleared his throat. “Uh, I didn’t know why you were here, and you seemed comfortable. I couldn’t figure out whether I should call the police or if Hazy got a new cleaning lady.”
Olivia blushed. “I’m not a cleaning lady!”