Always There (Always Series: Book Two)

by Lindsay Becs

  “Are you done?” I ask after she’s paused from her rant of bullshit.

  She lifts her hand, and I know it’s to slap me. I do one better and kiss her, but the second our lips touch, she shoves me away. “You do not get to kiss me. Not now. Not ever again.” She turns and pulls the handle of the door, but I push it shut, keeping her captive.

  “You are wrong about everything. Well, not entirely everything. I did sleep with… Sheila? Is that what you said her name was? I couldn’t remember; it was a long time ago.” She crosses her arms and shoots me a look like I better get on with it if I intend on keeping my balls. So, I do. “Anyway, not important. What is important is that the woman you saw leaving my office with my key was Tatum.” I pause to let that one set it. And it does when I see her defense fall a bit. “Yeah. My sister. And Gwen? I’ve never touched her. She’s my nurse, and that’s all. You heard me telling her she was the best nurse I’ve ever had. Nothing more. Now, I can apologize for…fuck. What’s her name?”

  “Sheila, you dumb ass!”

  “Yeah, I can apologize for Sheila, but I’m not lying when I say it doesn’t matter. It was months ago and before I met you. Since you, I haven’t slept with anyone else. I might fuck around, but never with more than one pussy at a time.”

  “You’re disgusting,” she scoffs, pushing past me and sitting on the bed behind me.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t change it.”

  “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Bex. Really? Come on, we can work this out,” I say as I walk forward and crouch in front of her.

  “Maybe it’s just getting to be too much. Too much like a relationship. I told you before I don’t do those. This obviously shows that. I think we should cut things off.”

  “What?! No. That’s stupid. This is good. We’re good together. I haven’t pressured you, have I?” I ask her, not wanting this to stop. This can’t stop.

  “You are now.”

  “Alright, fine.” I stand and back away. “I’ll see you around then, I guess.” I reluctantly pull the door open and walk away, not chancing a look back at her because I know if I do, I really will grow a vagina and beg her to be mine again.

  Funny though. She never really was mine. I just liked to pretend she was.

  Chapter 8

  Ollie

  This night ended shitty.

  By the time I get home, I forget that Tatum is staying here. I grab the bottle of Jack that I bought and walk inside, wishing she’d gone home.

  “Where the hell have you been, Ollie?” she yells from my couch as soon as I open the door.

  “Nice to see you, too, Tates,” I mumble, trying to keep from slurring.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Nope,” I say, popping the ‘P.’

  “Oh, my gosh. You drove like this?” she asks as she comes to stand in front of me now.

  I shrug as I take another swig from the bottle in my hand.

  “You fucking idiot! You could have killed yourself! Or someone else! What the hell is wrong with you?!” she yells at me, pushing me with each word until I’m backed up against my door. I don’t even care or fight her because I know I deserve much worse than this.

  “It was a shitty afternoon. Leave me alone.” I push past her, kicking my shoes off as I go and dropping my coat on the floor.

  “Oliver! We are not done here.”

  “Yes, Tate, we are.” I give her a pointed look and fall onto my bed. I know she won’t drop it, but at least for a few seconds, I can enjoy the quiet softness of my bed before she stabs me in the balls. Kind of like how Bex did earlier.

  I don’t hear her walk up to the platform of my bed, but I do feel the crash of a pillow hit me over and over as she yells at me. “YOU STUPID FUCKING IDIOT!!”

  “Stop! Tatum! Knock it the fuck off!”

  “NO! Not until you admit to being a complete asshole.”

  “Fine! I’m an asshole! Now get away from me!”

  “Ugh! What the hell, Ollie?” she says, falling on the bed with me. “Talk to me. This isn’t like you.”

  “No?” I counter. “Because this is exactly fucking like me. You just don’t see this side of me.”

  “Well, I don’t like this side of you.”

  “I don’t like any side of you,” I grumble.

  “Noted. Now talk, asshat.”

  I pull on my hair and yell, “I messed it up!”

  “What? What did you mess up?”

  “Bex. I actually like her, and I messed it up. She broke things off today.”

  “What in the hell did you do, Oliver? She was a nice girl.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tate.” I move to sit up in hopes that it’ll help the sick feeling I have in my stomach. “She saw a bunch of things today and interpreted them all wrong. She thought I was sleeping with other women while we were fucking around.”

  “Were you?”

  “No!”

  “Then tell her that.”

  “I did. She didn’t care. She ended things.”

  “Ollie, this is the first girl you’ve ever brought home. Well, except for Autumn, but she doesn’t totally count since you didn’t officially date her.”

  “No, that ended almost the same way as this,” I huff a laugh, “looks like I have a pattern.”

  “Then change the pattern, you moron! It’s time to grow up, Ollie.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you’re too old to be drinking like this. And smart enough to know it’s really fucking stupid to drive like this. You could’ve ruined everything you’ve worked for, Ollie. And if anything happened to you…”

  “Tate, I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

  “Not if you do dumb shit like that.”

  “Yeah. You’re right.”

  “I know I’m right. And I’m right about Bex, too. Ollie, grow up. Not just with the drinking, but with the women. Stop being a man-whore and get the girl you want. Fight for her. Show her that she needs to do the same. Be scared together. Work it out together. Be together. If this is really what you want and you like her as much as you say you do, then go get her.”

  I let everything my little sister is telling me sink in. It’s humbling to have an eighteen-year-old be wiser than you when you’re a doctor, but she’s right. I know she is. I need to grow up. Professionally, I’m there and it’s great, but my personal life is a mess.

  “I know that you’ll always be there, Ollie,” she continues. “But you need to be there for yourself, too.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “One day at a time. I know I walk around with an air of confidence, but really I’m scared shitless, and I think you do the same thing.”

  “You know that I think? I think you’re more than just the wiseass of the family. I think you’re the wise one.”

  “It’s good you’re finally seeing the truth.” She smiles at me, nudging my shoulder.

  “Oh, don’t do that. I’m gonna be sick,” I say as I run to the bathroom.

  After my heart to heart with Tatum and the low point of realizing how stupid I was for drinking and driving, I decided to take her advice and work on me. For the first time, I was looking at myself and not others for why I was doing the things I was doing or acting the way I was. It was sobering to think about having my medial license taken, hurting someone, or leaving my family with another tragic loss. None of those were things I wanted, but if I didn’t wake up, they were all possibilities. Yeah, no thanks. She was right; it’s time to grow up and stop acting like I’m still a dumb kid when things don’t go my way.

  Walking into my closet, I look at the box that sits in a dark corner on the top shelf collecting dust. The last time I opened it, I had lost Bonnie. Now, I’m opening it with fresh eyes. I take a deep breath as I pull the box down and hug it to my chest, walking back to my bed. I open it cautiously, as if something is going to jump out at me or explode in my face. Funny, I guess the words my mom
left behind will be doing just that, giving me the smack on the head that I need to wake me up to take responsibility for myself.

  My fingers run over the tops of all the white envelopes neatly lined inside. Bending down, I lean my face over them and inhale, still smelling her in them. Lavender. I feel my emotions already threatening to bubble up as I sit vulnerable on my bed with all I have left of the one woman I have ever loved more than anything else.

  Don’t get me wrong; I love my sisters and I would gladly do anything to protect them. My love for them is fierce, but the love I had—have—for my mom goes so much deeper. I take another breath and wipe away the wetness that’s beginning to form in my eyes. “I can do this,” I say to myself. It’s been two years since she passed, and I’ve only ever read two of these letters. Some I couldn’t bring myself to open, some I despised why they were there, and others simply haven’t happened yet. As I sit here now, looking at them, I know it’s time.

  I sniff reading the labels of each one:

  Funeral Day

  Last Day of Residency

  First Patient

  When Tatum Finally Breaks

  Travis <3

  Lucky Penny Needs You

  Dr. Duncan

  You’re Stupid

  You’re in Love

  The One

  Dirt Pudding

  The list goes on and on with almost fifty letters. I don’t know how she did this for each of us, but she did. And knowing Josie Gellar, they are all different and heartfelt for each of us, too.

  A cry gets caught in my throat as I reach for the one labeled You’re Stupid. She knows me so well.

  Oliver Duncan!

  There, can you hear my “mom” voice? I’m giving it my best shot.

  Ollie, what did you do, my sweet boy, that you needed to read this letter? I know that in order for you to see that you made a mistake, no matter how small or dumb, it had to be a doozy to admit you were wrong. If there’s anything I’ve learned about you through the years, it’s that you don’t like to look at the faults in yourself and you don’t ask for help to fix it if you do. It’s alright; it’s not a totally bad trait to have. Well, except for the not asking for help part, you stubborn man.

  Confidence is good, sometimes great, but even the strongest man can break. Even the wisest man can make a stupid decision. Even you are allowed to cry. You, my boy, have the biggest heart of gold. I know you would do anything for anyone and you’d do it with a smile on your face the entire time, even if it killed you.

  So, tell me, is this stupid thing over a girl? Or is it just you being dumb? If I had my guess, it’d take a girl to bring you to this point, but I could be wrong. But I’m not, am I?

  You already know what to do. You don’t need me to kick you in the butt or tell you how to handle this. You’re smart, Ollie. You know what you need to do to fix it. I’m sure you’ll beat yourself up enough; I don’t need to berate you more.

  Give yourself a break, let yourself breathe, learn from your mistakes, and come out so much better than before.

  I love you, Ollie.

  Mom

  P.S. Go get the girl!