Garrett (25 page)

Olivia nods at him with wide eyes, almost begging for him to make this all better.

“Because what does life-limiting mean, anyway? Does it mean that possibly you could live to be ninety years old, but then it comes back one day and you die at age eighty-five? Yes, it could mean that. Does it mean that it could come back within three months of your last treatment? Yes, it could mean that. We just don’t know. There’s too much to speculate on. But what I can tell you is that we have ways to fight this. There is new research being done…new medications. Five years from now, we may have a cure. We just don’t know. So I need you to stop focusing on the what-ifs and when something might happen, and concentrate on the fact that you are responding very well. If I was a betting man, I’m going to bet that you are going to lead a long and healthy life.”

Man, this doctor is the shit. He’s managed to verify Olivia’s fears but put it in terms that are relatable and positive. Olivia even lets out a gust of breath over her lips that I recognize as a relieved sigh. I lean over and put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her over to me so I can kiss her temple.

“You got this, baby. I just know it.”

Olivia nods and whispers, “Yeah…I got this.”

I unlock the back door of Fleurish and walk in, hanging the delivery van keys on the wall hook just below the alarm panel. Our delivery guy is out sick today, so I made the midday runs for Stevie, leaving him and Garrett at the shop to continue their incessant talking about my cancer.

After my appointment with Dr. Yoffman, Garrett tagged along with me to work, knowing that Stevie wouldn’t care, because he’s enamored with Garrett. Which was fine. It’s never a hardship to have Garrett around me.

But when we got to the shop, Stevie wanted the lowdown on how the appointment went, and Garrett jumped right in with a dissertation on everything Dr. Yoffman said. Then they started in on speculating and postulating, making plans on who would cover my next treatment cycle and arguing over who would go with me to the next bone-marrow biopsy. Garrett even suggested they duke it out with rock, paper, scissors, and I knew that was my cue to leave.

It was enough to drive any woman insane, so I gladly grabbed the delivery van keys and hauled my ass out of there.

I can hear them both in the back area, talking quietly, and I pray they’ve moved on to something more interesting than my cancer. As I walk down the hallway, I get a peek into the design room and see Garrett sitting next to Stevie while he works on an arrangement. Garrett is leaning one hip on a stool, his elbow resting on the worktable. He looks so damn gorgeous, he steals my breath away. I suppress a giggle as I watch him reach out, pushing a piece of greenery down into the foam base, and Stevie slaps at his hand.

“Lay off my masterpiece,” Stevie snarls.

“It looked odd, sticking out too far,” Garrett smoothly replies.

“Whatever! You know nothing about this stuff.”

I stop my progress and just watch them for a bit. They’ve become good friends these last few months, bonding over their concern for me. I know Stevie has a bit of a crush on Garrett and shamelessly flirts with him. This used to embarrass Garrett at first, but now he gives it back as good as he gets sometimes, causing Stevie’s cheeks to pinken on rare occasions.

“So how do you think Olivia’s truly doing with all of this?” Stevie asks quietly as he pokes some lavender roses down into the arrangement.

“She’s a trouper,” Garrett says proudly. “She’s handled all of this with such grace…strength. She’s an amazing woman, and I’m lucky to have her.”

My heart swells on hearing that, and I decide to eavesdrop a little more. Hearing Garrett tell me this morning that he loves me has caused quite a stirring of emotions deep within me. The minute the words were out of his mouth, a feeling of both peace and elation swirled through my blood. It wasn’t the first time those words had been handed to me by a human being, but it was the first time that they physically caused a reaction in my body.

I opened my mouth to give the words right back to him, because without a doubt I love him as well. How could I not when he has fulfilled every fantasy about what love should look like? But they wouldn’t come, because a part of me was just a little uneasy over all this, because my life is in such disarray. I still have feelings of guilt that Garrett would commit his life to me like this, when I can’t offer anything but the here and now. The future is too unknown for me to imagine what a permanent relationship with this wonderful man would look like.

“And how are you holding up?” Stevie asks, his voice sympathetic and warm. “Everyone concentrates on Olivia, but I know this is hard for you as well.”

I fully expect Garrett to trivialize his feelings, because while he thinks I’m strong, he’s the one who has been an absolute rock through all this. But to my surprise, his shoulders sag a little and he turns to rest both arms on the table, blowing out a breath of anxiety.

“It’s complicated, Stevie. Every day with her is amazing…discovery without end…” Garrett’s words trail off, leaving something unsaid.

Stevie picks up on it and prompts, “But…?”

“But…it’s terrifying. Knowing that I could lose her to this. Wondering if I’ll lose her to this.”

Stevie’s hands become still and he turns to face Garrett. I can see the sympathy lining his face in profile, and he puts a reassuring hand on Garrett’s shoulder. “I know. It eats at me too.”

“You know the worst part?” Garrett asks Stevie, his face looking miserable. “I’m already envisioning what it would be like if she…if she…died. It’s been plaguing me a lot since Gina’s funeral…watching how destroyed Zack is. If it happens…I know it will destroy me.”

A sharp pain of despair wells up inside me, punches through my chest and turns the blood in my veins to ice. My heart throbs painfully…stabs of guilt pinging ruthlessly. Garrett’s never voiced these fears to me, but how could he? He spends all his time making me feel strong…making sure I stay positive. He’s not about to ever weigh me down with his own doubts.

Love is grand and warm and secure. But love is painful, and my worst fears are confirmed. Garrett’s love for me is causing him hurt…torture…insecurity. And he can’t even share that with me, because he doesn’t want to burden me. He’s carrying it all on his shoulders, along with my illness. I have to wonder, how can he even find anything good in this? How can this be a relationship that will bring him the happiness that a man such as he deserves?

I spin away quietly, tears welling in my eyes. I’m not a crier. Never have been. But now I have the sudden urge to curl up into a ball and wail against the unfairness of it all.

Slipping out the exit door, I grab the van keys and hop back in. I need to get away for a bit and think what to do. I have to really decide if I’m selfish enough to keep Garrett, knowing that I might be dooming him.

Garrett moves inside me with almost painful slowness. He’s making love to me…not fucking…and there’s a world of difference. His gaze holds mine, love shining bright and deep. He leans down to kiss me tenderly, his hips languidly pumping. It feels amazing…our connection going deeper than it ever has before.

And each thrust into my body fills me up with care even as it hurts my heart. Because, yet again, I’m shamelessly taking what Garrett is offering me, knowing that every second our relationship forges stronger, it will be that much worse for him if something happens to me.

I know he didn’t mean it today when he said I’m an obligation to him. I know he meant only that I’m important to him…more important than even hockey.

Another stab of guilt.

Because my illness and every bit of the unknown that comes with it is a stain on his soul.

And when I stain his soul, I stain my own.

It makes what we have not so bright. It darkens it and fills me with anxiety and dread.

“You with me, baby?” Garrett breathes out as he pushes in extra deep.

“Yes,” I whisper, wrapping my hands around his neck. I pull him down for another kiss, and I try to pour out through my actions every bit of the love I’m feeling for him at this moment. I love him so damn much…and that hurts even more. “I’m with you.”

For now.

Garrett reaches his hand down between our bodies, stroking me with his fingertips and causing my climax to start sparking.

“I’m close. Let’s do this together,” Garrett growls, and my heart cracks wide over the double meaning to those words.

Pressing his fingers against me hard, I jerk, moan in response, and thrust my hips against his. My heart might be all kinds of fucked up, but my body wants him badly. It craves this connection, even as my head tells me it’s so very wrong to lead him down this path.

One more deep stroke into me and I start to come apart. I let it seep through me…overwhelm and hurtle me toward the ultimate, intimate connection with this man. Garrett’s body tightens, his eyes squeeze shut, and the muscles in his neck tense as he starts to come in me…with me.

He’s beautiful, magnificent, the most amazing man I’ll ever know.

The most incredible human being that I’ll leave behind.

A tiny sob bursts out of my mouth and tears leak from my eyes. Garrett stares down at me, his brow furrowing in worry. “Are you okay?”

I nod vigorously and paste a smile on my face. “Yes. That was just…a little overwhelming. Caught me off guard.”

The smile he gives me is brilliant and he leans down to brush his lips on mine briefly. I can still feel him pulsing inside me as I accept his kiss. “Everything about you overwhelms me,” he murmurs. “But I don’t want you to ever stop overwhelming me, okay?”

I can’t even respond, instead choosing to pull him back down and deepen the kiss. I pour every bit of my love into it, hoping he understands how strong my feelings are for him. I can’t give him the words, because I don’t want to give him false expectations. I don’t want to give him any reason to love me more.

Garrett rolls off me, pulling me right along with him so he can wrap me up tight in those magnificent arms. I lay my cheek on his chest and stare blindly at my bedroom window. We’re silent…letting the afterglow of those amazing orgasms settle in. His fingertips stroke my arm, then my hip. His lips caress my forehead.

I figure now is as good a time as any to start making the break.

“Listen…I think I’m going to go visit my mom,” I say hesitantly. “I have some vacation stored up and I’m missing her a lot lately.”

Garrett’s arms squeeze around me. “I think that’s a great idea. Although I’m going to miss you like crazy.”

Yeah, I’m going to miss you too,
I think to myself.
More than crazy. Probably in an utterly insane type of way.

“I’m not sure how long I’ll stay,” I venture further. I know I can’t stay away forever, because I’ll have to come back for my next treatment, but I need to be gone long enough to put some emotional distance between us. “I have a lot of vacation, and Stevie will give me extra time if I need it.”

“I’m sure he will,” Garrett muses. “He adores you. And your mom is going to be so happy.”

“Yeah, she will,” I mutter, because I don’t know how to say what I am really aiming to accomplish.

“Is it bad form and completely selfish if I say that I’m going to hate you being gone?” Garrett asks, his voice impish with teasing.

“Not selfish at all,” I choke out.

Not selfish the way I’ve been.

“When will you leave?” he asks good-naturedly. “I want to make sure I wring as many orgasms out of you as I can before then.”

“I’m not sure,” I say distractedly. “In a few days.”

Garrett pushes me up off his body and rolls to the side so he can face me. “What’s wrong with you? You totally didn’t take the bait over me teasing you about orgasms. Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

His eyes are curious and worried. He knows me well, and it’s another testament to how close we’ve gotten.

I look him dead in the eyes and curve my lips up in a smile, so I can lie right to his face. “Nothing’s wrong. You just scrambled my brains a bit with that last orgasm.”

Garrett stares at me…weighing the truth of my words. I’m not sure he’s buying it, and that’s not surprising. I was never a good liar. Before he can push me further, I roll over on top of him, spreading my legs to straddle his lower stomach.

Placing my hands on his chest, I whisper, “I’m going to miss you too. So much.”

That’s the absolute and painful truth.

“I love you, Olivia,” he says simply, yet his words have a weight attached to them. They press down on me in an almost suffocating fashion.

Yet even with the knowledge that I could hurt him even further with this admission, I lean down and kiss him. When I pull away, I tell him another truth. “I love you too.”

Oh, what a mistake. I know this the minute Garrett’s face transforms, showing me the most naked and transparent look of devotion and love I have ever seen form on another human. He smiles at me…big and dazzling, full of happiness and relief.

His hand comes up behind my head and he pulls me down. Just before our lips touch he says, “Fuck, Olivia…I can’t even tell you how good those words sound. Sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

His mouth touches mine…softly at first, then passion ignites once more between us. His teeth scrape against my lips, which he in turn licks at gently to ease the sting. His arms band around me tightly for an instant while our lips slide and our tongues mate.

Then he’s flipping me, kissing his way down my body…licking at my breasts, teasing my nipples. Worshipping me. Showing me all the ways in which he loves me through touch and taste.

Garrett spreads my legs and dips his mouth down to my core. Molten heat sizzles through me, love and devotion sweep me away. Releasing those words to him have been liberation, but they also imprison my heart in pain.

Pain over what is to come and how hard it’s going to be on both of us when I let him go.

The ref blows the whistle—a long, sharp blast that immediately stops play. Doesn’t stop Lucas Brinson from coming after me, though. He charges me with his stick chest high, parallel to the ice. It connects solidly with my own chest and he rams me backward into the board, and my helmet cracks loudly against it.

I leer at him, even as he pushes his stick up higher to just under my chin and leans all his weight into it. “Is that the best you’ve got, you pussy?” I scream at him, spittle flying out of my mouth.

He doesn’t get a chance to answer or retaliate further, because we’re swarmed by members of both of our teams, pulling us apart. Another ref jumps in and pushes Brinson off me.

“You’re dead, motherfucker,” he yells at me.

I struggle to get free of the numerous hands holding on to me. “Bring it, asshole.”

The ref blows the whistle again and Alex manages to grab me by the back of my jersey and start hauling me toward the bench. “Calm down, Garrett,” he growls at me.

I shrug free of his grasp and skate a lazy loop while glaring at Brinson. The ref glides over to the glass where the ice officials sit, holding one arm out straight, and makes a chopping motion over it with his opposite hand. No surprise he’s charging me with a penalty. I slashed that fucker good across his right arm, and it felt amazing to release my anger and frustration on him.

Skating back over to me, the ref points toward the gate that leads back to the locker rooms. “Game misconduct, Samuelson. You’re out.” The announcer is right on his heels as I hear, “Slashing penalty to number seventy-two, Garrett Samuelson of the Cold Fury…game misconduct. Five minutes for fighting to number eighty-one, Lucas Brinson of the Washington Breakers.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you, Thompson,” I yell toward the ref. I skate toward him to give him another piece of my mind, but Alex is pulling at me again.

“Ease the fuck up,” Alex snarls at me. “What the hell is your problem? Are you trying to lose this game for us?”

“Fuck off, asshole,” I snarl back at him and pull loose. I skate toward the gate and exit the ice, stomping my way back toward the locker room, to the sound of both cheers and boos from the crowd.

My anger doesn’t diminish the farther I walk away from the game. If anything, it increases, because I’m quite sure when I pull my phone out of my locker, there won’t be a text or voice mail from Olivia. I haven’t heard from her in three days…not since she left to go visit her mom in Portland.

At first, I went out of my mind with worry, but Stevie told me that she texted him that she had arrived and was just chilling with her mom. I called…left voice mail after voice mail, and she didn’t respond. I texted, quite desperately, begging her to talk to me.

Fucking nothing.

She went off the grid and is completely ignoring me, and every minute that has passed since then causes unbridled fury to rage through me.

I’ve taken it out on my teammates and on the game…prime example just now, letting my rage get the better of me and taking a stupid game-misconduct penalty. But fuck it. It’s too difficult to have passion for a game when my heart has had the shit beat out of it.

I should have sensed something was wrong when Olivia left. She had been somewhat withdrawn and evasive since her visit with Dr. Yoffman, particularly refusing to commit to a time frame as to when she might return. I thought it was great she was taking some time off to go visit her mom, but my own selfish desire to have her back close to me kept me hounding her for some type of game plan on her travel. She tried to come across as a free spirit, insisting she just wanted to play things by ear, wanted to take time with her mom, but deep down I sensed there was something else behind her evasiveness.

Most telling was the fact that she refused to give me those three little words again. She said them to me that night of her appointment with Dr. Yoffman…just before I went down on her and showed her how much I loved her with my tongue. But since then, she kept the words locked tight. I never heard them thereafter, not even when I took her to the airport and dropped her off for her flight.

Not after I pulled her into my arms and gave her a desperate hug, a soft kiss, told her how much I loved her.

How much I would miss her.

She dug her fingers into my shirt, holding on tight to me. Almost desperately.

She whispered, “I’ll miss you too. So much.”

Those words didn’t sound prophetic or foreboding, but in hindsight, they apparently meant something different to her than they did to me.

For me, it was merely a temporary goodbye. For her, I’m thinking it was permanent.

Of course, I don’t know for sure because she won’t fucking talk to me, and thus the reason for my rage.

Five paces from my locker, I take my stick and throw it against the wooden cubbies, where it bounces off and clatters to the floor. I shake my hands, dislodging my gloves, and sit down on the bench heavily. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for further disappointment.

Pulling my phone out of my bag, I turn it on and immediately see a waiting text. My heartbeat picks up and I jab at the text icon, hoping beyond hope it’s from Olivia.

My last text to her was meant to get her off her ass to respond to me. It was short and to the point.

Contact me or I’m getting on the next plane to Portland.

Bitter disappointment bubbles from within as I see the text isn’t from her, but rather Stevie. He’s become my sounding board…the only one who really knows how I feel about Olivia, but he’s as clueless as I am when it comes to the inner workings of Olivia’s brain. She’s refused his calls, but did send him a text that just said she needed some time alone and she’d contact him soon.

Per Alex, she sent the same message to Sutton.

For me…I get nothing from her. Fuck, that pisses me off.

While Stevie isn’t who I wanted to hear from, his text brings me a small measure of peace. When I realized my efforts to get through to Olivia via her cellphone weren’t working, I decided to circumvent that and reach out to the one person that I know is firmly in my corner.

His text was simple.
Call me. I have an idea.

For the first time in days, I actually smile. It’s a devious smile, because I’m not done with Olivia yet. She may be avoiding me, but I’m going to figure a way to get to her…to make her at least talk to me. And apparently I’m going to use Stevie to help.

The sound of players stomping into the locker room filters in and I stuff my phone back into my bag.

“Samuelson…my office…now!” Pretore barks at me. I know I’m in deep shit, but I can’t seem to muster up enough energy to care about it. My thoughts are consumed by Olivia, and until I can figure out what the fuck is going through her head, nothing else really fucking matters.

I blew Alex off after the game. We didn’t win, so there was no celebratory party at Houlihan’s, but rather Alex invited me out to a more obscure bar where we could have a beer and “talk.” I didn’t feel like talking to him, so I took a rain check and he gave me a worried look. I ignored him and now I’m home.

Kicking my shoes off, I flop down on my couch and dial Stevie. He answers on the second ring.

“Stupid penalty, girlfriend,” he chides me. I can’t help but smirk, because Stevie has become a reluctant hockey fan. Or, rather, he’s become a Garrett Samuelson fan, because Olivia made him come over to her apartment to watch all my away games.

And…ouch…just thinking of Olivia, sitting at home with Stevie and cheering me on while I was away, causes pain to throb in the center of my chest. I wonder if she watched the game tonight, but it’s doubtful. She told me that Maryana doesn’t own a TV.

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t give a shit. What’s your idea?”

“Okay, here’s what I was thinking,” Stevie says in a hushed whisper.

“Are you with someone?” I cut in.

“What? No, why?” he asks with surprise.

“You’re whispering. Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know,” Stevie says with exasperation. “I’m getting ready to go all covert, so it felt like a whisper was in order.”

“Fuck, you’re weird,” I grumble into the phone, and Stevie gives a girly chuckle.

“Okay, clearly she’s ignoring me, you, and Sutton. I have no clue why she’s ignoring you, but it’s obvious she’s ignoring me and Sutton because we’ve made it plain to her that we’re on your side.”

“You have?” I ask with surprise.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Stevie simpers. “We’ve been double-teaming her with voice mails and texts, telling her to get off her ass and call you.”

A warm feeling of gratitude overwhelms me because I had no idea that they were being vocal with Olivia. I just figured Stevie was listening to me spill my pain, and I hadn’t really discussed any of this with Sutton because she wasn’t exactly on my side when all this started. But knowing that she’s on my side now makes me want to wrap her up in a big bear hug.

“So, what’s the big idea?” I ask, bringing us back to the real issue.

“We’re getting Maryana involved. We need someone on the inside,” Stevie says in a hushed whisper again, and I know he’s gone all
Mission: Impossible
on me.

“Someone on the inside?” I ask with amusement. “We’re not breaking into Fort Knox.”

“Yes, we are,” Stevie argues. “Or at least close to it. For whatever reason, Olivia is locked up tight.”

That sure was true enough. She’s managed to cut off the three closest friends to her without any explanation.

“What can her mom possibly do?”

“She can talk some fucking sense into her,” Stevie says with resolve, and I know he’s serious, because he rarely curses. “You need to call her…right now. I just talked to her a bit ago and she’s really worried about Olivia.”

“Why?” I ask with a sudden blast of icy fear. “Is she feeling okay?”

“She’s fine…physically, but…well, just call Maryana. She wants to talk to you.”

Stevie gives me Maryana’s number, but I don’t dial her right away. Instead, I change out of my dress clothes, opting for a pair of workout shorts and a ratty T-shirt. Grabbing a bottle of beer from my fridge, I head out to the back patio. It’s one of my favorite places to relax, especially at night, when the pool lights are on and the subtle accent lighting around the perimeter softly twinkles, illuminating the various plants in the garden beds.

Flopping down on a chaise longue, I kick my feet up and take a hefty swallow of the beer. Deep breath in, back out again, and I dial Maryana.

“Hello,” she answers in that singsong voice of hers that reminds me of rainbows and unicorns.

“Maryana…it’s Garrett,” I say, my thumb absently running over the condensation on the beer bottle.

“Garrett…sweetheart. I’m so glad you called. Did you talk to Stevie?”

“Yeah…just now. He said you’re worried about Olivia.”

“I am, and I’m worried about you too. Worried about the both of you. What’s going on?”

I sigh deeply and set the beer bottle on the concrete. Scrubbing my hand over my face, I look up at the star-filled night. “I have no clue. Everything was fine…perfect, actually. I assumed she was going out for a visit with you, and that she’d be back soon. Now she won’t answer my calls or texts.”

“She won’t talk to me either. I’ve asked her about you and she won’t tell me anything. She won’t talk to Stevie or Sutton. This isn’t like her.”

“Has she said when she’s coming back here?”

Maryana is silent for a moment, then says, “I don’t think she’s going back until her next treatment.”

“Fuck,” I breathe out in frustration, then immediately say, “Sorry. But that’s two and a half weeks away.”

“I know,” Maryana sympathizes. “Is there any way you can fly out here? She’ll be forced to talk to you.”

I rub the bridge of my nose because a dull ache starts behind my eyes. “I can’t. We don’t have any games on the West Coast for a few months, and even if I did, the schedule is packed too tight. I wouldn’t have any time.”

At this moment, and for the first time in my life, I hate my job. Hate the way this career binds me and takes away a tiny freedom that could put me on a plane and have me standing before Olivia to find out what the hell is going on.

Maryana is silent, and I realize with a sinking feeling that she’s not going to be able to help me any more than Stevie or Sutton can. It seems Olivia may be lost to me until she comes back for her treatment, and I’m worried that more time apart without any communication is going to continue to drive a wedge between us.

And I’m pretty sure that is Olivia’s plan.

“Oh, screw it,” I hear Maryana huff into the phone.

“What?” I ask.

“Just hold on…I’m in my bedroom.”

Maryana is silent, but I can hear the sound of a door opening, padding footsteps, then another door opening.

“It’s for you.” I hear Maryana’s voice dimly, and I realize the phone isn’t near her face anymore. I have a mental image of her handing the phone to Olivia, and I know this is exactly what’s happened when I hear Olivia’s voice say, “Who is it?”

Just those tiny three words—not the three words I’d kill to hear, but just three words in her beautiful voice—cause my heart to pound loudly within my chest.

“It’s Garrett,” I hear Maryana say, and there’s a hard edge to her voice. I didn’t think Maryana could do “hard,” but apparently she can when she feels motivated.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Olivia says desperately.

“Tough shit,” Maryana says. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but you stay locked up in your room all day and night; won’t talk to me, Stevie, Sutton, or Garrett; and we’re all worried sick about you. Now you get your ass up and you talk to this man. You owe him an explanation at the very least. It’s the mature thing to do.”

Silence, and I imagine Maryana and Olivia are engaged in a staring war. Then I hear some shuffling sounds, a loud intake of breath, and then Olivia says “Hey” into the phone.

“Hey,” I say back, and for someone who has been desperately trying to get Olivia to talk to me for the past three and half days, I’m suddenly at a loss for words myself.