Fix You: Bash and Olivia (5 page)

So when I tried to sneak into the apartment an hour earlier without doing my workout, I knew he was going to grill me. With a breakout fight just a few months away, I couldn't afford to slack. But all I wanted to do was lie in bed and stare at the ceiling until the air spit out some wisdom about what the hell was going on with me the past two days.

I'd been an early bloomer, and in a neighborhood full of dirt-poor girls with Daddy issues, I had no shortage of “friends” to chill with. We’d sleep together when the mood hit, or when one of us needed to feel a warm body lying beside them for a while when the nights felt especially cold. Some of them had even stuck around for a while and became short-term girlfriends. But in all that time, no one ever had me strung up like
this
girl.

Olivia Beckett.

I didn't even realize I said it out loud until Matty repeated me. As much as I didn't want to hear one of his speeches, I also knew there was no point in trying to pretend I didn't know what he was talking about. The only thing more determined than a pit bull with a bone was Matty when he thought somebody was hiding something from him. Probably a leftover from dealing with our father dying of an overdose when we hadn’t even known he had a problem, and our mother leaving us in the care of the state six months later out of the blue. I guess it stood to reason that would turn out at least one kid who would grow up to detest secrets.

I lowered my fists and backed up to the ropes. Then I clenched my teeth around the loose tape at my wrist to unravel, buying some time while I decided how much to tell him.

"Olivia who? I get the feeling you’re hiding something serious from me. Why's that, Bash?"

The tone was already threading its way into his voice. The worried, cautious sound that made him seem so much older than his twenty-two years.

I’d planned to tell him about what happened after I found a replacement job, knowing he would only tell me not to bother if I didn’t. That he could carry us both for a few months until I went to Vegas for the big fight. But now not knowing was going to give him more stress than telling him, and he had enough of his own shit going on to be worried about me over what was soon to be nothing. I filled him in on how Olivia and I met, and had just gotten to the part where I punched Andy in the mouth when he stopped me with a groan.

"You know Butch is going to kill you if you tell him that."

I did know. Punching a guy bare-knuckle like that in anger was a bad idea on so many levels. I could've broken a finger or a bone in my hand that would have derailed my upcoming bout, but it also could have ruined my career. Not to mention, I could've gotten arrested.

I flexed my hands, now free of the tape. Not bad. A little sore, but nothing to complain about. Not that it would stop my crochety old bastard of a trainer from doing so if he got wind of what went down.

"Yeah, well, I have no intention of telling him and he won’t be back for another two weeks. It’ll be old news by then. It's all good now."

"Except for that’s not the whole story.” Matty stared me down, like if he looked hard enough, he might be able to read my mind. “Let me see if I can fill in the blanks on the rest. Now sexy little rich girl Olivia—I’m assuming she’s sexy because you can’t stop thinking about her, am I right?—feels all grateful, and wants to take Big Bash McDaniels for a ride."

I stepped through the ropes and out of the ring, making my way to one of the long wooden benches that circled the perimeter of the tiny gym, and sat. Reid tweaked my nerves on the regular, but Matty and I were tight and didn’t usually butt heads. The anger that swelled in me at his words was out of line and I knew it, but shit, they bothered me.

"Fuck you, bro,” I said finally. “That's not what it's about."

"Are you sure?

Not even a little.
But I refused to let the doubt show on my face. It wasn't any of his business. "Look, I only even told you what happened because I don't feel like having you hound me about it. Now you know. I met a girl, she was having a little trouble, and I helped her out. That's it."

"So if that happened last night, then why are you still thinking about her tonight to the point that you're letting it interfere with business? Did you see her again?"

I kicked off my sneakers, shoved them into my duffel bag and nodded. "Yeah. She came by the bar earlier. She felt bad because I got fired. Then I walked her home."

"Is that a euphemism?" His wide grin at his own stupid joke made my lips twitch but I wasn't about to encourage him.

"No. I actually just walked her home. That was that. So can you give me some space? There's no big drama going on or anything. I'll probably never see her again."

Even as the words left my mouth, my stomach clenched. Some part of me knew it before…maybe had known it from the second she stumbled into my arms. The thought of never seeing Olivia again was flat-out unacceptable. A thousand excuses for why that was ran through my mind at once. Maybe she’d need someone to have another little “talk” with Andy for her. Or maybe she really did want some self-defense lessons. Hell, we were practically neighbors. Maybe she’d need a cup of sugar to bake a cake someday. Not that I could help her on that front. We had frozen chicken, broccoli, egg whites, and protein drinks in the apartment during training, and that was it.

But no matter how I tried to dismiss her away to Matty, the fact was that I wanted to see her again.

Soon.

Now.

Which only reinforced all the reasons I shouldn’t. "For real. I'm definitely not going to see her again."

Because Olivia wasn't a fun party girl who wanted me to make her come and leave the next morning with a smile. Olivia was wounded. And when two people with issues came together, shit got fucked up. If my parents taught me anything, it was that. Getting close to this girl would leave its mark.

"You trying to convince me or you?" Matty leveled me with a long, searching look, and stood. Then he strode toward to door leading up to our apartment, taking a quick jab at the speed bag as he passed.

I didn’t follow him. Instead, I made good use of the heavy bag and just let my wheels grind. By the time I climbed into bed an hour later, I was mentally and physically exhausted but had gotten nowhere. Olivia was still haunting me, and I still had no clue  where I was going to look for work to make up for losing the Shorty's gig. I had less than a week to figure it out.

Jamming a hand under my pillow, I tried to get comfortable, but something felt off. Like I had a live wire loose in my stomach. Bone-tired, but my thoughts too chaotic for sleep. I stared at the neon-blue numbers on my alarm clock and willed myself to relax. It was already well past two, and 7:00 a.m. was right around the corner. If I didn't get close to five hours of sleep, it would be a rough morning in the ring. Matty would be stoked for the chance to torture me over it, too.

My cell phone lit up from its docking station on the nightstand and bathed the room in an eerie light. I eyed it consideringly. Only two things ever came from calls at 2:00 in the morning. Death-in-the-family-serious kind of bad news, or bring-that-ass-over-here-and-spend-some-time kind of good news. Since my whole family was either already dead, dead to
me
, or sleeping in the other two rooms down the hall, a booty call from a past hookup was a safe bet. I wasn’t interested in the least and considered leaving it on the table, but curiosity got the better of me.

I snagged the phone and peered down at it. Not a call at all, but a text from an unknown number.

Are u still awake? It's Olivia.

I stared at the message, heart hammering against my rib cage. No good could come of me answering.

I hadn't even finished the thought when a second message came.

Beckett. Olivia Beckett. In case u know another Olivia. This isn't her.

Another few seconds.

It's the other Olivia.

I smiled for real then. The first time in weeks. Maybe longer. Probably longer. Olivia Beckett might be wounded, but she was also pretty funny.

Okay, I guess you're asleep. Sorry to bother you.

Before I could think better of it, I thumbed out a quick reply.

Sorry, I was in the shower.

The lie came too easily. I hated lying, but I couldn't deny the very real feeling of wanting to impress this girl, and telling her I was lying in bed staring at her message like a chickenshit instead of answering wasn't all that impressive.

I waited for her to send another text, but a full minute passed. She didn't seem like the booty-call type, so what was up? Maybe something had happened with Andy. What if he decided not to get on the plane to Cabo at all, or had come back?

Everything okay?

I waited, curiosity ramping up to concern at lightning speed. If that motherfucker laid another hand on her…

Yeah. Fine. I'm just awake and wondered if you could…talk to me for a couple minutes?

The words “Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.” blared in my head like an ambulance siren. But it didn’t stop me from replying, S
ure. Call me.

I left the light off but crabbed backward until I could sit up against the headboard. Lying in bed in the dark with only a pair of boxers on while talking to a hot girl was a recipe for trouble. Already, I could feel my dick getting hard. While my mouth was saying,
“How’s things going?”
my brain would be asking,
“What are you wearing?”
Not on purpose. It was hardwired into my DNA.

The phone rang a second later and I answered it.

"Hey."

She launched right in. "I know you probably think I'm some kind of psycho, but I'm really not. This is the first time I've ever totally slept alone.” Silence. “Wait, that came out wrong. I mean, I've always lived with my parents, and then came straight to a dorm with roommates, and even once I got my single, you could always hear people out and about. Now that no one’s around, it's…creepy. And really quiet," she murmured with an embarrassed laugh. "That sounds so lame, I bet."

Not to me, it didn’t. When my mother first left, they couldn't find a family to take all three of us, so Reid and Matty were in one foster home and I was in another. I'd gone from a cramped apartment full of yellers who had a lot to yell about, to a little house in the burbs with a nice, quiet Christian family. I don’t think I slept more than ten minutes at a time, I was so terrified. I was ten then, and eleven years later, you still couldn't pay me enough to live in the burbs. Olivia was right. All that quiet was creepy as fuck.

"I think a lot of people feel that way,” I said, omitting the details, loath to tell this girl I shouldn’t even be talking to about my fucked-up family or my kiddie fears.

“I guess,” she said softly. “It’s weird, I never thought of myself as a scaredy-cat, but the past few weeks have been an eye-opener. Maybe I’m not as tough as I thought.”

“Or maybe you’ve just had some scary things happen lately.” I shifted and crossed my arms over my chest, waiting to see what she’d say to that.

I still wasn’t convinced she grasped the depth of shit she was in with this Andy guy. He wasn’t having a bad day, or too drunk to realize what he was doing, although that would’ve been bad enough. This guy was mean to the bone.

I’d seen it before in the ring. Not so much in my own fights; I usually tried to block out the mojo coming off my opponents. A lot of fighters won before the bell even rang through attitude and intimidation, so being able to let that shit roll off me like a duck in water was a big advantage. But when I went to watch Matty fight MMA, I’d seen it a few times. Those guys you just knew weren’t in it for the sport or for the money. They were in it to bring the pain. They got off on making people feel weaker and smaller. Those were the same ones who hung on one brutal second too long after their opponent tapped and found legal ways to break bones when they could.

Straight up vicious.

And that was the same look I’d seen in good old Andy’s eyes when his hands were wrapped around Olivia’s throat. Hot rage poured through me and I kicked the blanket off the bed. I should have punched him harder.

“You’re right. That was scary.” Her voice was almost a whisper, which only pissed me off more. She still sounded afraid. “I have some other stuff going on too. It’s been a rough week. I don’t mean to complain. I know it’s been a bad couple days for you too. Because of me.”

“It wasn’t because of you,” I said firmly. “It was because of me. I made the decision to follow you and get involved. That’s not on you.”

“But if I hadn’t been there, you’d still have your job.”

“True. But if you hadn’t been there, you’d have been somewhere else, and who knows what he could’ve done to you? I’ll take getting sacked.”

The silence between us was unbroken until she let out low sniffle. “That’s…that’s really sweet of you.” Her voice sounded choked and I realized she was crying. “Listen, I have to go, but can I give you a call tomorrow? I’d really love to talk more about getting some lessons. Maybe they’ll help me sleep better.”

My gut knew the right answer.
No. Fuck no.
“Sure. Give me a call.” She sounded so lost. So sad. I was stuck. Stuck in her, stuck in this position, stuck until I knew for sure she was okay.

We disconnected and I stared into the darkness, dread and elation coursing through me in equal measure.

"Who were you talking to?" Matty called through my door before toeing it open and peering through the crack.

"Nobody,” I snapped, not in the frame of mind to deal with him.

"Okay, well, tell nobody I said hi next time you talk to her."

That wasn't going to happen.

I rolled to my side and ignored him.

"Bash?"

"Yeah?" I stared into the darkness, willing him to go away.

"You do what you gotta do to get this girl out of your system, but remember, you have a fight in a few months. Keep your eye on the prize, bro."

That had been the McDaniels boys’ mantra ever since we'd been on our own and had one another to count on and no one else.