Surge (74 page)

“Done,” Akio says as he ties off the stitches.

Setting his tools aside, he removes his glasses and brushes a forearm across his sweat-covered face. Akio looks completely exhausted, and I’m sure relieved that he was able to successfully complete a surgery that he was never trained to do in the first place. Once I’ve assured my terrified brain that Olivia’s fine, I’ll apologize for my behavior, but not one second before then.

Looking at Olivia, I see that Cory’s gripping both of her bloody cheeks as he wipes them clean with his thumbs, and is talking to her quietly less than four inches from her face. If I wasn’t positive that the asshole loved her only as a platonic, adopted brother, he might have been missing a limb or two right now. But since I’ve seen their relationship through many ups and downs, close calls and reunions; I know that there’s nothing sexual about it. It’s pure emotion that bounces back between the two of them, not chemistry or attraction that glues them to each other for life.

After kissing her forehead, Cory steps aside and holds her hand. Nodding at me, he gives me permission to approach; as if I needed it, but I appreciate the effort just the same. He’s trying to accept me, same as I am him, so this is a good sign that he’s willing to let me have a minute with her. Little does Cory know that as soon as I get my hands on her, Olivia’s disappearing with me upstairs and won’t be back until I feel that it’s safe.

Quickly stepping forward, I reclaim my place by her head and brush her hair back. She has her eyes open, and instead of pain or happiness in their depths, there’s pure fury. I glance around to see who pissed her off, and am surprised when I look back to find her sitting up and heaving out breaths.

“Wha..”

My question is cut off abruptly when a tiny hand lands across my face. It stings a bit, but I ignore it as I turn my head back, startled as I look at her. Olivia points at me, pats her chest and picks up my hand. Showing me my bloody bandage, I know why she’s so pissed. Picking up her hands in mine, I give them a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “But you were in so much pain, I couldn’t just sit here.” Olivia still looks like she wants to whack me again, so I appeal to her nature. “You would have done the same for me, so don’t give me that. If I was sitting where you are, struggling with pain, you would have comforted me, no questions asked.” Holding up my hand, I continue.

“This is nothing. I don’t even feel it, but what I did feel was guilt that I’m sitting here useless, when I could at least give you something to brace against instead of tearing at your own flesh.” I flip her hands so that they’re palm side up. She gives the crescent shaped scratches and dried blood a cursory glance, but I know that she’s softening.

“You can be tough, but you aren’t alone anymore.” I point around the room to Whitney, Akio and Cory, before pointing at myself. “We’re all here because we care about you, and we aren’t going to let you suffer alone anymore, so you better get used to it.”

Olivia slides to the edge of the counter and throws her arms around my shoulders. I can feel sobs wracking her back, a mixture of pain and relief that she was obviously holding back. Snatching the water bottle that Whitney mixed with pain meds, I pick Olivia up and carry her out of the room; ignoring Akio’s orders to set her down. She doesn’t even fight me, which warms me because I have her trust to take her anywhere, and shows how upset she really is.

I make sure that the back of her t-shirt is closed, before I pass the living room, where there are several pairs of curious eyes watching my progress. I ignore those too, and continue on to the stairs. Climbing them two at a time, I proceed to our room at the end, and it is
our
room. I may have instilled myself in there, but it’s the room where Olivia finally let her guard down with me. It’s where she’s shared her nightmares, and we’ve battled them together each night with her snuggled tight to my chest. Where we’ve joked, talked the night away, and doctored each other. And it’s where I feel impossibly more in love with her.

Adjusting her slightly, I enable it possible to open the door without setting Olivia or her bottle of pain medicine down. Stepping inside, I kick the door shut behind me and lock it before I walk over to the bed. Slipping my boots off along the way, I climb onto the bed with her clinging onto me like a monkey. Assuming my position on the bed, I settle her on my chest like she always winds up in when she sleeps, being extra careful with her new stitching. I’ll see to it that it’s cleaned and wrapped as soon as she’s calmed, but right now, I just want to comfort both her and myself.

Olivia may have went through the physical trauma, but I went through the ringer emotionally. Fear, anger, hope, back to fear, circling around each emotion like a vulture searching for its prey until it was finally over. I can still feel the remnants coursing through my body as if I drank a liter of caffeine and haven’t worked it off yet.

Hoping to calm my still shaking hands, I remove her ponytail holder and run my fingers through the braid. Once it’s sufficiently spread over me like a cashmere blanket, I grab a handful and inhale her apple/mint scent. Even with Olivia washing my own hair with her products, I still prefer the smell on her. Maybe it’s because I can’t smell it on myself, or maybe it’s because she adds her own natural mix to it, but I can never seem to get enough of it.

Each night, I lay awake and take hits of it like a crack addict. Obviously, it’s after she’s gone to sleep so that she doesn’t whack me for being a creeper, but it’s become my routine. Brush out Olivia’s hair until she’s fallen asleep, then cuddle her and sniff her hair like a weirdo so that I can go to sleep with the smell of apples still in my nostrils. I know, I’m approaching borderline obsessed, but this is Olivia we’re talking about here; it’s not just some random chick I picked up off the street. This is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life pleasing, or begging for her to give me a chance. She’s my friend right now, but I want so much more than that. I nearly laugh at the very realistic scenario in which I chase her around with my arms spread out in front of me while screaming,
‘Let me love you!’ 
at her retreating form.

I’m pulled out of my little stalker-like thoughts, when I feel Olivia tilt her head slightly to meet my eyes. Olivia’s are bloodshot, her cheeks are splotchy and her nose is a little red, but she’s never looked more beautiful. Brushing her hair away from her face, I tuck it behind an ear so I can take in the whole picture without any obstructions to my view.

“You okay?” I ask and she nods. “You can breathe, there’s nothing bothering you?” Another nod. “How are the stitches? They don’t pinch you or anything, right?”

Olivia finally sits up so she can use her hands to motion out her answers. The first thing she does is tell me that
‘She’s fine, and
to calm the hell down before she has to knock me out.’
That makes me smile, and once she’s satisfied that I’m not going to talk my way into another panic attack, she returns it.

“Glad to hear it,” I reply and sit up as well. “Now let me doctor you, you’re getting blood all over the bed.”

She’s not, but it makes her sit through my ministrations without a single complaint. Once I’ve got both sets of her stitches covered in the antibacterial and the pain cream, I apply the gauze patches and medical tape. Next, I clean her face of the dried blood she coughed up. Lastly, I work on her hands. They’re only minor cuts, so after I clean them with a sterile wipe, I put a little bit of antibacterial on and leave them alone.

Looking up after completing my task, I see that my torn and bloody shirt is in danger of slipping from her shoulder and flashing me the goods. As much as Junior is jumping at the chance to gaze upon the beauties about to pop out and say hello, I know that would wind up embarrassing her, or sending her into an anxiety attack; so I carefully lift the goose down comforter and wrap it around her shoulders. Olivia looks at me curiously, as if she doesn’t know why I’m smothering her in a hundred pound quilt when it’s muggy in this room, but I ignore it and go grab my bag from the floor. Digging through, I locate another one of my t-shirts, that Whitney has since cleaned, and hand it to her.

Finally realizing why I covered her, Olivia’s pale cheeks flush with color as she snatches the shirt from me, and buries herself under the blanket. Fighting the urge to laugh, because I’m positive that it’ll end with me cupping my balls and be mewling in the fetal position on the floor, I climb up onto the bed. This time it isn’t Olivia’s added weight that makes it a challenge, it’s my now engorged cock and heavy balls that have become uncomfortably fuller with the thought of Olivia’s exquisite breasts. Once I’m situated with a portion of the blanket draped across my lap, I breathe in deep and calming breaths to settle down and wait for Olivia to resurface.

Let me just say that men have the worse luck in hiding their arousal, I mean, we have this fucking sword that pretty much pokes the woman in the eye; so it’s pretty freaking impossible to hide, while a woman can just cross her arms or wear a padded bra to hide their pointy nips. It’s completely unfair, and they have the nerve call us the privileged sex? As if. You can play hard to get since we have to literally get in your face or touch you to see how you’re affected, while all you have to do is glance south and find the
‘X’
marking the spot, saying
‘go ahead and take me!’

I’m pulled out of my mental rant, when I see a head full of black hair pop out of the white blanket. Her face is now flushed with heat instead of embarrassment, and covered in sweat. Olivia’s hand comes out next, offering me my torn shirt, so I take it and toss it aside. She scowls and picks it back up.

“What?” I ask. “It’s ruined.” Holding it together, she motions that it can be sewn. “You don’t have to, I have plenty more.”

Olivia holds my gaze to see if I’m lying, I’m not really since I have at least three more in my bag, besides I can score some more pretty easily. Once she’s done, she folds the scrap and sets it aside, I guess I didn’t convince her, so I’ll be getting a mended shirt in the near future. Hell, if she goes through the trouble of sewing the bloody scraps back together, I’ll wear it every freaking day until it can’t be worn anymore if it makes her happy.

Pointing at the gauze, Olivia picks up my right hand. I pass her the necessary supplies and patiently wait through her doctoring. It’s no hardship on my end to have her run gentle fingers along my skin to apply the creams, or brush my hair back so that it won’t get caught in the tape on the other side. It’s actually pretty damn relaxing, so I close my eyes and let her mummify me.

When she’s finished, I reach over and put the first aid equipment away, before picking up her laced water bottle from the night stand on the way back. As soon as she sees it, Olivia nearly knocks me off the bed in order to get her hands on it. Laughing at her exuberance, I catch her shoulders and set her back.

“Relax, I know you want to guzzle it down, but you have to pace yourself,” I say and give her a stern look.

Olivia nods obediently, and makes a
‘gimme’
motion like a toddler, which is quite adorable since she’s not that much bigger than one. Seeing that she still looks like she wants to tackle me, I hand the bottle to her, and she immediately twists the cap and sets it to her lips. I go to intercept her, but she holds her hand out and shows me that she is indeed only taking tiny sips. Taking small increments of medicine laced water, Olivia manages to drink about half of the contents down in ten minutes, before she can’t stand any more. After recapping the bottle, she hands it back to me and lays down.

I stretch out beside her, immediately feeling an arm curve around my waist and a head settle on my chest; along with the mouthwatering scent of apples. Happy that she won’t be poked by a now settled appendage, I smile as I wrap an arm around Olivia’s back and hug her close. I know that she’ll be out in seconds, and then I can stalk to my heart’s content.

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