Page 29 of Feel Me

“I’m not feeling good. My head is splitting. Maybe with the appointment and MRI, I overdid it. We can talk another day, I promise.”

“I’m sorry, Lake. I didn’t know you were sick. You go. We can definitely talk later,” I murmur, strangely disappointed, but more worried about him.

He grabs my hand and gives me a smile, but I can clearly see the pain that is written on his face. I give him a smile. “Do you have headache meds?” I ask.

“Colt keeps a first aid kit in the bunkhouse. I’m sure there’s some ibuprofen in it. Don’t worry,” he says.

“No, that won’t work for a bad headache. Give me a minute⁠—”

“Livy—”

“Just one minute, please?” He studies my face, but nods okay. I jump out of the truck and jog to my door. I punch the key code in that’s on the lock. Then I rush inside, leaving the door open. I go straight to my bathroom and grab a bottle of the migraine meds I have in the vanity drawer. On the way back to the front door, I run to the kitchen first and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I waste no time getting back outside to Lake. When I reach his truck, he’s standing outside by the front fender, leaning on it slightly.

“Here,” I mutter, shoving the bottle of water into his hand. Next, I open the lid to the meds and take two out. “This is the migraine meds that my doctor prescribed me. I tend to get them if I’ve had a stressful day dealing with anxiety or unwanted memories. It will help you quicker than just regular pain relievers.” I dump the tablets in his hand. He stares down at them. For a moment, I think he’s going to decline them, but he puts them in his mouth, takes a drink of water, and swallows them down.

“Thanks, Livy,” he whispers.

I hand him the rest of the bottle of meds. “Take these with you. They’re a better alternative than things you find in the first aid kit.”

“I don’t want to take yours. I’ll be okay,” he argues.

“I want you to have them. Besides, I have more inside. I always keep extra,” I explain.

“If you’re sure,” he hedges.

“Positive.”

“You’re truly something else, Livy,” he whispers and then he leans down. I think he might kiss me. I’m not sure how I feel about it, but I don’t pull away. However, Lake surprises me by placing his lips on my forehead, kissing it gently. “Thank you for spending your evening with me. It was the best night I’ve ever had.”

“That’s only because you can’t remember a lot of your nights,” I try to joke, my heart feeling joy and fear in equal measure.

“I don’t care what was in my past. It couldn’t hold a candle to a single day with you, Livy.”

His words do something to me that I didn’t expect. They break through some of the walls I have up around me. He’s being sincere. I can tell it and the power of that is stronger than I could explain.

“Go home and get some rest,” I tell him, my emotions a rollercoaster of feeling that I have no idea how to sort through.

He nods. He gets in his truck, and I watch as he backs away from the house, turning and then heading toward the bunkhouse. I stand there until the taillights grow dim. Only then do I finally go inside.

Once I get inside, I lock the door and head straight to my room. My mind is in chaos. All I can think about is what he said. A simple dinner in the diner with me, Winnie, and Blade is one he counts as his best day ever. I should dismiss it, but I can’t. I have to acknowledge that this is the best day I’ve had since losing Bear. I felt almost normal. I felt alive and, most of all, I didn’t want to curl in a ball and die from the suffocating loss that I’ve endured.

I flop down on the bed, wondering what in the world I’m going to do about Lake. He’s becoming important to me and it’s happened in the span of just a few days. What do I even do with that?

I need to get up and shower, but I’m just too tired. I peel off my clothes and put on one of Bear’s T-shirts. After doing a quick version of my nightly self-care routine, I climb into bed. I’m just too worn out from worrying about everything. I take one of the meds my therapist prescribed that help me sleep. Then, I close my eyes and wait for memories of Bear to surround me and take me back to a time when I wasn’t alone. As for everything else? I’m going to manifest my inner Scarlett O’Hara and think about everything tomorrow. The thought makes me smile as I yawn and curl into my spare pillow, wishing—like I always do—that I was holding onto Bear instead.

20

SHE SAID MY NAME

BEAR

Son of a bitch. I guess my woman is even smarter than me. I thought the security on this ranch was laughable. It took all of my skill to break into her house tonight. I look around the A-frame cabin. It’s at least a three-bedroom, a large great room with cathedral ceilings, that has an open kitchen and dining area toward the back of the house. The front of the room is large enough for two big sectionals that face one another, a huge fireplace takes up a large section of the wall facing the sofas. This wall is comprised of tinted glass that flows down from the ceiling until it meets the accordion doors that surround the fireplace. The effect allows muted outside light flowing into the room, and makes the house feel like it’s not a structure, but rather a part of the great outdoors itself. I can tell the glass is bulletproof, too. It’s thick and high grade. It took me an hour to find the one weak spot in this house. Olivia had left one window open. It was up high and a damn small one—it’s in the master suite’s bathroom. My woman is claustrophobic, so I figured she’d want some kind of fresh air filtering into her bedroom. I’m glad I wasn’t wrong in my hunch. I hate that Olivia is still suffering so much from this. She was always scared of small spaces. Her fear only increased when we lived in that human cage that Eyeball put us in. I lost count of the number of times I helped talk her down from panic attacks. I had to hold her in my arms so that she could feel our connection and repeatedly talk to her in her ear, reassuring I was with her. Eventually, her trembling would lessen. I hated that I couldn’t take away the scars of the past from her. I’m scared to hear of how she fared after I got free. I still carry guilt that I couldn’t come back for her. By the time I was able, she’d freed herself. My woman is as strong as they come. She’s endured way too much. That won’t happen again. Once it’s safe, I’m going to take Olivia far away from here. We’ll live on a beach somewhere. Sand, salt air, and wide-open spaces all around. We spoke about it often. I was more than ready to walk away from the club. They’re doing fine. They don’t need me anymore. I’m not sure how much money I’ll have left. I gave most of it to Olivia and then some to Ayita—that fucking bitch. My shares in the casino, which were separate from the club itself, I gave back to my brother. Still, I checked online one night in the town library. I still have access to one of my offshore accounts. It hasn’t been touched. Cross was supposed to make sure that Olivia had sole access to it. Everything remains the same and nothing has touched it, except a fuck of a lot of interest. There’s more than enough there to find us our own place. Hell, maybe our own island. It’s something I definitely need to talk to Olivia about. I can’t tonight, though. If she knows I’m alive, she won’t allow us to be apart. Eyeball will know at once and he’ll increase his efforts to get to her. So, for now, I’m going to see her up close and watch her sleep. I’ll slip out when I have to and bide my time until I can see her again. I know I’m putting everything at risk, but at least this way the danger is smaller. It’s all I can indulge in right now. Besides, if I don’t get to spend some time with her, I’m afraid I might snap.

I’ve been inside the house for about ten minutes. I’ve been afraid to move, but the place is quiet. I peek through the opened door. From the small nightlight on the nightstand, I can see someone sleeping on the bed. I smile. She’s here.

I slip off my boots by the bathroom door—doing my best to be as quiet as possible. Then I make my way to my woman. A fine sheen of sweat pops out on the back of my neck and my hands. This is a moment I was afraid would never come. I kneel by the side of the bed. My heart jumps around crazily in my chest before settling back down. My entire body feels weak. I take in her soft hair. It’s darker now than it was the last time I saw her. Her skin is still just as fair, her cheekbones just as prominent—maybe more. I bet she’s not eating right. I frown. Olivia never did take care of herself like she should. She focused all her attention on making sure the people she loved were healthy and happy. I should be here taking care of her—not hiding out like a damn coward. I’m disgusted with myself. This has to end.

The urge to wake Olivia is so strong that I have to distract myself. I look around the room, hoping that our child is asleep in the room with her. I’m disappointed because there’s no sign of a child.