Safe With You (19 page)

The waiter drops off our beers and I down the whole thing before the glass hits the table. Aubrey told me to give Liv the textbook four days of space; it’s barely been three and I can’t stand not seeing her face. It was my fault, and Cam’s right … I need to make it better.

Before I have a chance to sprint out of the bar, Noah shows up, already half bombed. Zach trails behind him and I know I’m not leaving anytime soon. Noah has the liver of a ninety-year-old Irishman, and at this point, I don’t think Cam even has a liver. I’m royally fucked all around because Zach doesn’t give a fuck if he has to play D-D every night to keep the rally going for whoever needs it.

Noah hands me a beer and cradles a few shots in his palm. “Bro,
Jaegerbahmbs
on me!”

I’m not sure if he’s
still
reciting lines from that shitty reality show Jersey Shore or if he’s serious. Either way, I drop the shot glass into the pint and down the whole thing in two gulps, beating Noah by four seconds. The licorice taste mixed with beer makes doing shots of blood sound more appetizing.

“Dude, don’t you know about regular car bombs? So much better than this shit.” A shake courses through me as the taste settles.

Zach runs his fingers through his hair and pulls me off to the side. “I think you better get to Olivia’s.”

“What’s wrong?” My stomach rolls, all the alcohol sloshing around from sheer anxiety. I barely noticed he was on the phone when they walked over. I knew I should have left before, and I’ll never forgive myself if something happened.

Again.

“She’s having a panic attack or something. She bailed on hanging out with Aubrey tonight because she didn’t feel well. Aubrey called me—”

“Get my truck back to their apartment in one piece or I will end your life.” I slam my keys into Zach’s palm. I trust him more than Cam at this point. I’m way too blitzed not to get pulled over.

I run to the corner and hop in a cab as a bunch of people get out. Thank God her apartment is only a few miles away. My mind won’t stop racing with thoughts about why she’s freaking out so much. I don’t want her to leave New Orleans or leave me. I can’t handle it. I refuse to handle it.

My knee burns as I take the stairs two at a time. I heave a few breaths before knocking and wipe the sweat off my forehead. I probably smell like a brewery and I hope she doesn’t notice. Aubrey pulls it open about a foot, letting me slide inside.

“Is she okay?” I whisper, taking in how small her studio apartment
really
is.

“No. I gave her one of my Xanax I have for emergencies,” Aubrey whispers, grabbing my hand.

“What’s up?” My shoulders fall and the alcohol is threatening to make an appearance.

Aubrey wipes under her eyes, nodding to the piece of paper in the kitchen. “I’m gonna go because she needs you right now.”

“Thanks for taking care of her.” I give Aubrey a quick hug and close the door behind her, locking it.

As much of a creeper as it’s making me, I walk into her kitchen and glance at the letter on her counter from the hospital. A bright red D
ENIED
stamp is plastered under the filing for Charity Care.
Charges totaling almost thirteen grand.
Helena is a saint for letting her have as much time off as she needs, but a million extra classes would never cover the bill about to come.

I pull out my phone, furiously texting my dad. I don’t know how the hell she was denied. Every person we talked to said she qualified. I don’t say anything as I kick off my shoes and climb into bed next to her.

“Hi,” she croaks. The dim light from above the kitchen sink shines against her watery eyes and she smiles.

“Hey.” I shift, pulling her closer.

She tucks her arms against my chest, leaning her head on my shoulder. “I know you guys were trying to protect me. My mind is a backstabbing bitch sometimes. I should have never treated you that way.”

“We’re going to figure this out, I promise.” I kiss her forehead again.

She darts her head up and smiles. “I know.”

“Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?” She pecks my lips and settles into my side. Within seconds, she’s asleep again. For now, I feel a little bit better.

Chapter Seventeen

Too Many Feels

Olivia

The room is pitch black and my brain is finally calm. The fleece blanket warms my body and the quiet soothes my nerves. Everything came crashing down when I saw the hospital bill. I’m so sick of having to stop my life because I can’t get through most situations without thinking it’s the end of the world.

I glance toward the window. Sunlight peeks through the edges of the thick, room-darkening shades. I press my palm to my forehead, trying to ward off the headache I know is about to follow. My mouth constricts as if it’s coated with super glue and I choke out a dry cough. I down half the bottle of water on my nightstand. The one he probably left out for me.

Kyle stirs and rolls over toward the wall. I cover him with the rest of the blanket as I sit upright. After everything he’s done for me, I blew him off so quickly. But I’m proud of myself for not pushing the envelope last night. We’re both sorry and we both know we did things we shouldn’t have.

I stand and pull on my old softball hoodie. I really miss his UNC hoodie, still fleecy-soft, like a security blanket. My phone lights up on my nightstand with texts from Natasha and Aubrey. I sigh, flipping through them. They’re both wondering how I’m doing, but I don’t want to talk to them right now. I really want to go back to work at the studio, even if only for a few hours to get my mind off everything. But after last night, I can’t. I need to start handling life instead of pushing it away.

My feet drag behind me as I pad over to the window. I hover over Tyler’s number, sucking in a breath before pushing
call
. The phone rings twice and my jaw drops as the robotic disconnected recording plays. Within seconds, I furiously type out an email to him and hit send.

Immediately, Mailer Daemon pops up in my mailbox and I slam the lid of my laptop shut. Kyle barely flinches.

Brother of the year, Ty.

I want to talk to him. He should know about what happened. But, it’s like he dropped off the planet. As much as I would like to think I did something wrong, I know I didn’t. If all he ever wanted was to be free of responsibility from me, he should have said so. It’s not like I would have been shocked.

“I give up,” I mutter, shoving my feet into my flip-flops.

I swipe my bag off the kitchen counter and slip on Natasha’s giant, bug-eyed sunglasses. The bolts click as I lock the door and I schlep downstairs. I need rocket-fuel coffee and food. Instead of going out the back alley, I knock on the windowpane at the rear of the bookstore. One of the employees lets me in and I make my way through the giant stacks of antique books.

The smell of roasting coffee and fresh bread pours into my nose the moment I walk outside. I breathe deeply and pick up my pace, continuing into the coffee shop next door. Thank God Aubrey isn’t here studying. I order two giant coffees and two cheese, egg, and bacon baguettes.

When I make it back to my apartment, my phone rings and Kyle’s number pops up. I knock on the door. It flies open and Kyle looks at me, wide-eyed and pale. I should have left him a note before I went out, but I want to dismiss my disappearing act and get back on good terms with him.

“Thank you for coming last night. It meant the world to me.” I step in, unsure of our boundaries.

His strong arms envelop around me as he kisses my hair. “Olivia, I think we both needed some space.”

I nod, cuddling into him deeper, and I know I need to make things right. This has to stop. He’s never given me a reason to believe he won’t be by my side through the good and bad. He is the furthest thing from Braden or any of the shitty excuses for friends I’ve had.

Kyle takes a sip of coffee. “I saw the letter.”

“I figured.” I swallow hard and take a step back.

“But that wasn’t my reason for coming.” Kyle pulls my face to his and kisses me softly. “I love you. I meant it before and a few days of a semi-fight aren’t going to change how I feel about you.” He kisses me again. “I’m not going to get mad at you for shielding your past. I did the same thing to you, whether I realized it or not.”

The walls between us start to crumble. But it’s not because we’re swinging the doors open to our fortresses; it’s because the foundations were never set right and they’re falling on their own.

Just like my apartment. The grimy, shitty place I’ve barely called a residence the past few days, nevermind months, makes me want to vomit. I only have one framed picture of Natasha and me from high school. Even though Braden has never stepped a foot inside, the place reminds me of him. There is nothing here to comfort me when I know what a real home is like.

It’s drab and claustrophobic. I need personality and something I can make my own. I want nothing to do with it. I’ve never had a home. The comfort and warm-fuzzies people associate with home is something I’ve only felt when I’m at Kyle’s apartment. When I’m here, I just want to cry.

Which seems like all I’ve been doing lately. Overly emotional is not a good look on me.

“I want to go home,” I sob. The feelings I have for him surge through every inch of my body.

Even in the dim light, Kyle’s lips pull into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. “It means everything to me to hear you say that.”

I smile and give him a kiss because I don’t know how else to respond. “Let me pack up some stuff. Everything else came with the apartment.”

“Even the blankets and sheets?” He fakes a gag.

“No, but they’re shitty as hell. I prefer the linens on my new bed.” I hook my fingers into his belt loop, pulling him closer. “They smell like this super-hot guy I have a thing for and hopefully he won’t make me sleep on the couch because I was a psycho hose-beast bitch.”

“Never.” Kyle grabs my ass with a smile. “What about your lease?”

“Right.” I sigh, shaking my head. I totally forgot about having to be an actual adult. “I’m paying month-to-month. My landlord is pretty chill, so hopefully she won’t be pissed if I bail.”

Immediately, I tense thinking about what I just brought up. I can’t move in with Kyle. I’m sure half his rent is three times what I pay. But I don’t want to stay here. I avoid eye contact and walk into the kitchen, downing half of my coffee. Now, I’m going to have to work every day and see if I can cram in another job.

Kyle turns me around and takes my face in his palm. “You’re freaking out about something.”

My back straightens and I take a deep breath. I need to be honest with him. “I realized that I can’t exactly afford half of the rent for your palatial apartment compared to my broom closet. But I can’t just move in scot-free and I refuse to let you tell me I don’t owe shit.”

“I wasn’t planning on making you pay.” Our relationship is still new and it’s not like we’ve compared bank accounts, but I know damn well there is a huge difference. After a moment, he steps back and hops onto the counter. “How about this: I got the rent, you get the utilities and cable, and we split groceries?”

“Are we nuts? Moving this fast?” The words spill out before I even acknowledge his proposal. I’ve never been so irrational about anything in my life. I care about him so much. And he loves me. I’d be devastated if things didn’t work out because we moved in together too soon.

“In theory, maybe?” He kisses my forehead as I step between his legs. “This is up to you. I know you hate it here. But I think you’re strong enough to move on if you really want to.”

Only because of you.

***

I’ve been here for three days now. Kyle and I haven’t done anything except make out, eat loads of sushi, and watch movies. At my request, we’re taking this slow. After I slipped in the shower this morning, Kyle almost took me to the hospital. I assured him I was fine, awkward half-naked moment and all. Thanks to the shower curtain and a towel, I kept my cool long enough to get up without him seeing everything. He had two doctor appointments this afternoon; I didn’t want him to miss anything else.

So, Señor Bravo has been waiting on me hand and foot.

Cam shuffles the scrambled eggs in the frying pan, adding some more spices. The smell of bacon sizzling turns me from hungry to famished. Two slices of cinnamon bread pop out of the toaster and I hobble over to the counter with a paper plate, trying not to drool over everything.

“Hey, munchkin.” His exotic aqua and deep sapphire eyes have half the luster they normally do and he offers me a smile. I know he was out late last night, so I feel even worse that he’s babysitting me hungover and playing Julio Child.

I sigh, rolling my eyes with a smirk. “Why do you always call me that?”

“Because you’re three feet shorter than me and weigh like four pounds.” He laughs, nudging my shoulder. “You okay? Seriously. You look like you’ve been about to implode since I got here.”

I shrug, trying to ward off the tears I won’t allow myself to shed.

“Liv … come on.” Cam pulls me into one of his overwhelming hugs and kisses the top of my head. “I know I’m not your studmuffin but don’t make me feel like shit. You’ll be okay.”

“I know. I’m trying.” I can’t help but laugh at his attempt to cheer me up. It always looks like he’s a grizzly bear protecting an acorn when he hugs me, but right now I don’t mind.

After I pile my plate with no less than five pounds of food, I scamper into the living room and snuggle into the corner of the couch, tucking my feet under me. Cam and I watch this ridiculous telenovela and he gives me a quick translation every so often. Apparently it’s his guilty pleasure, watching this trashy soap opera. Every new thing I learn about him makes him twenty times more endearing. Like how he fluently speaks four languages and graduated from LSU with honors.