Waking Olivia (21 page)

W
ill’s been
weird all through dinner. He seems angry, though at whom I’m not sure. And I’m a little angry at him too. Or actually, I’m just hurt. I knew me getting dressed up would change nothing, but I thought maybe … I don’t know what I thought. Will is as blind to me in a dress as he is to me in anything else, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise.

“Jessica’s coming over,” he sighs as he comes back to the table. “Apparently she got you a gift, Mom.” He looks at me warily.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

“When I broke up with her, she made some accusations involving you.”

“Then I’ll just go home.”

“No,” says Dorothy hastily, “absolutely not. You’re not running off just because Jessica got the wrong idea.”

“There’s not time anyway,” Will says. “She’ll be here any minute now.”

“Let’s just tell Jessica she’s dating me,” Brendan says with a grin.

A flicker of anger crosses Will’s face. “No,” he says, his voice hard.

“I’ll go to the stables,” I suggest. I jump to my feet. “I can groom the horses a bit.”

“You’re in a dress,” Will objects, but I’m already on my way out the door.

What a disaster.

I was so happy that he’d broken up with her, but here I am looking as good I’m ever going to look and he still doesn’t care. And now his hot girlfriend is going to come over and he’s either going to regret what he did and get back with her, or he’s not and she’s going to flip out if she finds me here. She will definitely know I’m here—my stuff is all over the room and my plate is still sitting on the table.

Brendan catches up with me as I near the stables. “You don’t need to come,” I tell him.

“It was worth it to watch my brother’s head explode when I left. Besides, you need to tell me what the hell is up with Peter and my mom.”

I smile. “It’s pretty obvious what’s up, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but how long has it been going on? They seem more married than my parents did.”

“I don’t know. Your mom is pretty evasive about the whole thing.”

“Well, what does Will say about it? I mean, Peter’s his boss. That’s got to be weird.”

I laugh. “I think Will doesn’t have a clue, shockingly enough.”

Brendan shakes his head. “That’s not shocking at all. His head is totally up his ass about his own feelings, so why wouldn’t they be about Mom’s?”

We get to the stables and I groom Little Boy while Brendan lays there comfortably, watching. “You could help, lazy ass.”

“I could,” he replies, “but that would take work away from you, and I know how you love it. Besides, what endearing nickname would you give me if Lazy Ass no longer fit?”

“I can think of plenty, believe me.”

“I’ll have you know I’m extremely dedicated to things I care about.”

I raise a brow. “Oh, is that right? Like school?”

He laughs. “Don’t get carried away.”

“Then what?”

“I do P90X religiously every morning.”

“I’ve
never
seen you do P90X.”

“I haven’t started yet. But come December, I’m going to be the P90X poster boy.”

Something cuts into my corresponding laughter. Voices approaching. Brendan and I glance at each other. Jessica’s high voice, her dumb fake giggle. Will’s low rumble.

Jessica strides into the stables with purpose, while Will comes up behind her reluctantly. “Jessica insisted on coming out to say hi to Brendan,” Will says, shoulders sagging.

But Jessica is only looking at me, with malice so intense I’m surprised it doesn’t actually burn my skin. “I knew you’d be here,” she says.

Brendan pulls me into him, his arm wrapped around my waist. “Do you have a problem with my girlfriend, Jessica?”

“Your girlfriend?” she asks. “Since when?”

He glances at me. “How long has it been, baby? I guess since that first night I made you sneak out of your window? Four weeks? Five weeks?”

Will is glaring at both of us, but I have no choice but to play along now. “Yeah, about five,” I agree.

“What night at the window?” Will hisses. His eyes have turned bright blue, the anger in them palpable.

Brendan gives me a cocky smile. “I climbed out of my window, pulled her out of hers and the rest is history.”

His story rings true because, I suppose, it is true. Not a word about it is a lie, but then he failed to mention that absolutely nothing happened.

Brendan turns me toward him at the waist, wrapping his hand around my neck. “Best five weeks of my life,” he says, bringing my mouth to his. He holds me there tight, not letting me pull away, opening my mouth with his tongue, grabbing my ass as he does it. I stagger a little when he finally lets me go, and he gives me that sidelong grin of his that would make me laugh if I wasn’t so inclined to slap him.

“So you finally managed to wedge your way into their family,” Jessica snaps at me.

“Yeah,” says Brendan, “and you tried and failed, so get lost.”

Jessica turns on her heel and storms out. Will stands there a second longer and there’s something in his face now aside from anger. He looks hurt. So hurt that I want to run after him as he turns to follow her out.

I lean back against the pillar that stands between the stalls. “You shouldn’t have done that,” I breathe.

He laughs. “Did you see his face? Oh my God. I wish I had that on film.”

I raise a brow. “Why do you enjoy torturing him so much?”

“That’s just what brothers do. And besides, he needs someone to light a fire under his ass.”

“I think maybe you ought to find a better way to do what brothers do,” I sigh, picking up the grooming brush I dropped when he attacked me. “Like coming back to help for a while after you graduate.”

“Help?” he says. “Why? Will’s got it under control.”

I look at him in disbelief. “Do you really think that, Brendan? He’s working two jobs to keep you in school. Your dad left so much debt they can’t even afford full-time help anymore. I know it’s not my place to say this, and Will doesn’t want you to know, but this place is a sinking ship and you’re swimming away as fast as you can while he bails water.”

He looks stricken. “I had no idea. The farm always did well.”

“I don’t think it’s done well in a long time. Your dad took out a second mortgage a while back just to stay afloat.”

“Why the hell didn’t my mom tell me? Or Will?”

“He’s been trying to give you what he had—four years of college without feeling responsible for anyone but yourself. But his life is hard, Brendan. So when you sit there talking about biking through Europe, it’s got to piss him off.”

“Great. So he’s doing all that and he thinks I’m trying to steal his girl on top of it.”

“I’m not his girl,” I counter.

“The hell you aren’t. But admit it—that was the best kiss you’ve ever had. And for the record, I’m just as good at everything else.”

“I’ve had better,” I reply, thinking of Will.

“No one’s better than me,” he argues.

My head raises just in time to see Will coming at us, looking only at Brendan.

“Oh fuck,” mutters Brendan and seconds later Will’s fist is airborne, connecting with Brendan’s jaw. Brendan takes the hit, stumbling backward. He flinches as he rubs his face. “I’m going to let you have that one,” he tells Will, “but that better be the end of it.”

“Will,” I breathe. “What the hell?”

He grabs my wrist, pulling me outside of the stables. He rounds on me as soon as we’re out. “What the fuck was that?”

“I could ask you the same question!” I cry. “Why the hell did you punch him?”

“Are you dating him?”

“No, of course not. You know I’m not.”

“Well, that was pretty damn convincing back there,” he growls. “And if you’re not dating, what was up with letting him kiss you?”

“What choice did I have?” I cry back. “He lied to save your ass and I went along with it. You should be grateful.”

He presses me to the wall, pinning me there with his hands at my shoulders, his face an inch from mine and angrier than I’ve ever seen him. “Well, I’m not,” he snaps. “So don’t do it again.”

He is solid muscle as he presses against me, and the anger inside me is morphing to something else, something hot and liquid and weak. I can feel his breath against my mouth, his angry eyes registering the difference in me just as I register it in him. And then his mouth descends, crushing mine beneath his, pulling me into him with his hands tight on my waist.

This can’t be happening.
But it really is. I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life and it’s too much to take in, to memorize. His soft mouth and the rasp of unshaven skin and his smell and his warmth. It’s too much, too good, and yet not close to being enough.

There is no uncertainty, no hesitation. There’s something urgent, almost desperate in it, and I am senseless to everything except for him. His mouth, his tongue, the rasp of his breath, his hands beneath my dress, sliding along my thighs.

He pushes away from me suddenly, looking stunned. “Oh God,” he breathes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I’m your coach. I can’t …” He trails off, shaking his head, backing away from me with a look of horror on his face. “I
can’t
.”

He turns, disappearing from view as quickly as he appeared, leaving me so angry and sad and turned on all at the same time that I have no idea how to react.

I walk back into the stables. Brendan takes one look at me and grins, still rubbing his jaw. “Told ya.”

W
hat the fuck
am I doing? I just punched my brother and kissed the girl I
coach
, all while my boss waits inside the house. And in spite of this I just want to do both things again.

Our first kiss, the night she was asleep, felt like I was merely going along with something I shouldn’t. But this time, I demanded it and it was as if the part of me that’s shown any restraint whatsoever these past few months had walked straight out the door. I didn’t care that it was wrong in a thousand ways and couldn’t go anywhere or mean anything, that it would only create more problems to be solved and more memories to be forgotten. I just didn’t care. I wanted her and for a second, before I finally came to my senses, I planned to have her, right there against the back wall of the stables with my brother a few feet away.

I must have been out of my damned mind.

I return to the house and sit at the table, not even trying to disguise what I feel. It’s pointless anyway.

“I guess things didn’t go well with Jessica,” my mother says, looking at my face.

“No, not really,” I sigh.

Brendan and Olivia walk in a few minutes later. I should be worried about what they’ll say, or about how mad my mom’s going to be when she hears I punched Brendan, but honestly all I can do is look at Olivia. With her hair messed up and her lips kiss-swollen she only looks more beautiful to me. I can’t believe that I did what I did. And I also can’t believe I stopped.

“My God, Brendan! What happened to your face?” my mother cries.

He grins, taking a quick look at me. “Got hit by a falling rake. It’s cool. I should probably be more careful with shit that’s not mine.”

Olivia doesn’t meet my eye once, and I wonder what that means. Maybe she’s mad at me for walking off the way I did. Or maybe she’s mad at me for kissing her in the first place, though I find that difficult to believe. When I remember the way her whole body arched into me, her sharp inhale as my mouth moved to her neck, I know it was mutual. Just thinking about it has me hard again.

She and my mother serve the pie, and surprisingly, we manage to get through dessert without me assaulting anyone or violating NCAA regulations.

“I’m going to head home,” I announce once we’ve finished cleaning up, giving my mom and Olivia a quick glance to silence any objections.

Peter and I walk out to our cars at the same time. “Will—” he begins, and then he trails off. Finally, he shakes his head and settles a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve grown into a fine man. I know I can trust you.”

Now I feel like an asshole in pretty much every way possible.

H
e kissed me
.

He kissed me like it was something he couldn’t live without. As if he was suffocating and I was oxygen.

He kissed me as if I wasn’t optional. Made me forget everything that had happened and everything that stood before us and between us.

And then he ran, and I haven’t seen his cowardly ass since.

He started this. And now he’s avoiding me. Probably worried he’s going to have to sit me down and explain how sorry he is and how it can’t happen like I’m some pathetic girl with a crush.

I don’t plan to give him the chance.

When he still hasn’t appeared by lunchtime, I ask Dorothy to take me home. “But why?” she asks. “I thought you’d stay for the whole weekend.”

“I probably ought to study,” I mumble.

“Didn’t you bring your books here? Please, at least stay today,” she begs. “I’m making that chicken you like, and one of the kids from next door wants to go riding. I was hoping you could take her out.” Holy shit. She’s as good at begging as Brendan. I wonder if Will possesses even a quarter of their ability, and if so, what he begs for.

Bad Olivia. Not helpful when you’re trying to stay mad at him.

I clean the stables, rake the side yard, give the riding lesson and let Dorothy teach me how to make pie. I may be stuck here, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna be sitting long-faced inside the house when Will returns.

Again and again, though, I run my fingers over my mouth in wonder. He kissed me. And it was so unbelievably good, so perfect, that I don’t see how I’m going to go through my whole life without feeling it again.

Y
es
, I’m avoiding her. It doesn’t feel like I have a choice. Right now some gate I’ve had shut tight, on lockdown, is swinging wide open just waiting for her to walk through, which means that I should be berating myself. But instead, all I can think about is the feel of her, the small hum in her throat as she responded, and that makes me recall just how much further I wanted to take things yesterday.

The mechanic arrives to fix the combine. The whole ride out to the field he’s telling me some story about a seed separator. The only thing that could conceivably make this story interesting would be if flesh-eating zombies emerged from the seed separator and went on a rampage, but today I’m not even sure I’d listen to that.

I’m avoiding Olivia because I’m weak. Because the worst part of me wants her to be the one to pursue it, to not take no for an answer and somehow make me guiltless. Which is impossible because unless she tied me down—which is a possibility I’m
definitely
going to imagine later—it’s entirely on me. And I can’t do that to her, or to Peter.

But it doesn’t stop me from imagining it all day. Or from missing her, and hating the fact that she’s here and I’m not with her. My mom takes the golf cart out later and brings me lunch. “Looked like you were never planning to come back in,” she says.

I shrug. “Lots out here to get done.”

“There’s almost nothing to be done out here that can’t wait,” she replies. “So why don’t you tell me why you punched your brother and are spending the day out here hiding?”

I should have known she’d never fall for Brendan’s ‘I got hit by a rake’ story. “He kissed Olivia,” I tell her. “He said he was just trying to cover for me with Jessica, but he didn’t have to take it that goddamn far.”

“Will,” she sighs. “You’re so in love with that girl you can’t see straight. Something has to change or this is going to turn ugly fast.”

“What can I possibly change, Mom? I can’t quit. We can’t afford it. I could probably get her a scholarship with another school. Now that she’s winning, I could probably get her in a D1 school, but I’m not uprooting her like that when she only has three semesters left. Plus, I can’t even imagine what it would be like knowing she’s off in some new city and there’s no one to stop her—”

“I know, I can’t imagine that either. So we need to look at other possibilities. What if Peter tried to find you a position somewhere else at the school?”

“I still wouldn’t be allowed to date her. And then who’s going to help her during the away meets? Who’s going to talk her off a ledge just before the race starts? It’s all pointless anyway. She’s leaving here after graduation and I’m not.”

She cocks her head to the side and sucks in a cheek. “I wouldn’t give up on everything just yet,” she says softly. “These things have a way of working out when they need to.”

“Nothing’s worked out for me in a long time, Mom. And I don’t see a lot of point in hoping that’s going to magically change.”

“Well, we’ll worry about that later. In the meantime, come back and take that girl climbing. She’s working herself to the bone trying to keep busy and the last thing she needs is more work.”

“I figured she was busy being entertained by
Brendan
,” I say snidely.

“Your brother loves you,” she replies. “I know he’s got a strange way of showing it, but I think he’s trying to help.”

O
livia is pissed
. She doesn’t even look at me as I approach, and I can tell by the rigidity of her stance that it’s intentional. She has her guard up again, the way she did when she first arrived, as if she expects to be hurt. I hate that, but I can’t exactly fix it either.

“Let’s go climbing,” I say. She wants to stay mad, but she wants to climb more. I can see it in her face as she reluctantly agrees.

We don’t say much on the drive. Maybe she’s waiting for me to begin, to explain. Or maybe the truth is so obvious that neither of us feels the need to address it.

As we turn left on the highway, she looks toward me. “This isn’t the direction we normally go.”

“Yeah, I figure you’re ready for a bigger climb.”

She almost smiles, and it’s the first glimpse of happiness I’ve seen on her face today. “Are you
actually
admitting I’ve done something well?”

“Nah, just admitting you’re not quite as terrible at it as you were.”

“Terrible?” she scoffs. “You’re gonna eat your words, asshole.”

When we arrive, the doubts sink in. I’ve chosen a really difficult, technical climb and for all the wrong reasons. I was looking for something hard enough to silence the awkwardness between us, put it on the back burner, but now I’m worried I may get her killed in the process.

“I was kidding before,” I tell her. “You’ve done really well so far, but now that I’m looking at it I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Feel free to wuss out,” she says over her shoulder. “I’m climbing it.”

Fuck.

Someone has already established the route, but I don’t necessarily trust it, so I go up first, checking the bolts to about the halfway point, which is as far as I’m letting her climb. I hang my weight off each one to assure myself they can hold hers. When I’m satisfied, I climb back down and grab the ropes.

“Your goal today isn’t to hit the top,” I tell her. “It’s just to get some practice dealing with these kind of angles. There are a couple moments when you’re going to feel like you’re leaning backward. Just know that I’ve got you, okay? If you don’t have the grip strength yet, you can just slide back down.”

She rolls her eyes as cocky as ever. “I’ve got the grip strength,” she says. It should irritate me, but instead, I feel a shot of lust through my stomach so strong that my fist tightens around the rope in response.

It doesn’t go away as I watch her begin to scale the cliff face. She goes at it like she’s on the attack, and something about her intensity makes me long for a whole lot of things I can’t have.

She scrambles to the mid-point far faster than I imagined she could.

“That’s good,” I shout up to her. “Come on back down.”

She looks down, arching a single eyebrow. “Right. After you said I was terrible, you think I’m giving up halfway?”

Shit. I didn’t bank on her not listening to me and why the hell
wouldn’t
I bank on it? When has she
ever
listened to me? “I didn’t say you were terrible,” I shout up to her, “but seriously, Liv, the climb gets harder and you’ve got to be tiring out. I haven’t checked the bolts above where you are right now either. Don’t be stupid.”

“The next time you don’t want me to act stupid,” she calls back, “don’t make the grave error of telling me I’m terrible at something.”

She resumes her climbing, going past the midpoint, and all I can do is watch. She’s still safe at the moment, not far above the last bolt I checked, but not for long. I have no idea who established this route and how long ago it was. For all I know, a good breeze could knock them loose. I wish to God someone were here so I could hand off the rope and scramble up after her, but I’m stuck watching her, angrier than I’ve ever been.

“Olivia, stop!” I demand as she clips onto the new bolt, but she ignores me. God damn it, I’m never taking her climbing again. If those bolts come out, she could wind up plummeting to her death.

Exhaustion has set in too. There’s a strain I can see in her hands and shoulders that wasn’t there before, and I’m not sure if she’s doing this to punish me, but it’s fucking working. I struggle to think of some way to make her stop while at the same time I marvel at her. Sometimes her grace and agility seem unnatural, and I wish … Fuck. I wish a whole lot of things and not a single one of them will ever happen.

“Come down NOW!” I finally bellow. “I’m serious, Olivia. Now! You’re too tired and you’re going to get hurt.”

She ignores me.

“I’m never taking you climbing again if you keep going!” I threaten in desperation.

“I’m never climbing with you again anyway, asshole!” she shouts back, and I hear that wounded thing behind her anger. “Who the fuck do you think you are anyway? You kissed me and then you just ran off like I was going to stalk you or something.”

“Olivia, that’s not why I ran. Please, come down and we’ll discuss it.”

That’s when it happens, when her hand slips above her and she starts to fall. I watch her progress through my worst nightmare, falling, screaming, the first bolt ripping out of the mountain under her weight and sending her hurtling downward. I watch it happen, frozen in place, so terrified I can’t think.

I already know exactly what will happen. If that second bolt doesn’t hold, she’ll die. It will be too great a fall and her weight will pull out the bolts beneath or she’ll swing into the cliff face like a wrecking ball. It can’t take more than three seconds, but it is the longest, slowest three seconds of my life waiting to see if the bolt holds, the bolt I didn’t secure for her.

The rope goes taut as it pulls against the bolt, and it holds, but the momentum sends her swinging against the face of the cliff anyway. For a moment, I’m speechless. I can’t find the words to ask if she’s injured. It’s been a long time since I’ve prayed but, in that millisecond, I pray as fervently as anyone ever prayed for anything.

“I’m okay,” she shouts down to me as if she knows.

My heart is still in my throat, but I’m able to call up to her. “Just hold still. I’m going to lower you down.”

“I’m okay,” she shouts. “I can climb.”

“No,” I reply, my voice far too harsh. “Don’t even think about it.”