“Get the fuck out of my apartment. Now.” Her voice was low, dangerous in its intensity. Because she was ready to commit murder. Never in her life had she felt so outraged. Her emotions were running so high, she didn’t trust herself not to fly right off the rails.
The guy must have realized this because in the next moment, he’d grabbed the girl by her shoulders and pulled her up. They were leaving the bathroom before he’d even finished buttoning his fly.
Moving deeper down the hall, she opened her bedroom door, breathing a small sigh of relief to find it untouched. Then she pivoted on her heels and flung open Spencer’s door.
The smell of marijuana was nearly overpowering. It poured from the room in thick, cloying clouds. Coughing, Olivia covered her mouth and nose with her hand and stepped inside.
Spencer lie sprawled on his back in the center of the full-sized bed. He was alone, thank God, but as Olivia stepped closer, ready to lay into him, she saw that his eyes were closed, his mouth slack.
He was passed out cold.
Fury like nothing she had ever experience roiled in her gut and she marched to the side of the bed. Grasping his shoulder, she gave him a violent shake. He didn’t even stir.
“Wake up, dammit! How dare you do this, after everything I’ve done for you!” She slapped his face, leaving a muted handprint across his cheek, but nothing she did, no matter how loud she became, could rouse him.
Fine, she would handle it herself.
Storming out of the room, she slammed the door shut behind her—protecting Spencer despite him being the epicenter of her troubles.
The stereo was a small one, just large enough to occupy the lone bookshelf she’d purchased at J.C. Penney when she moved in, but it had power enough to vibrate the walls. Spencer could cost her her apartment, leaving them both on the street.
Barely containing her rage, she ripped the cord from the wall. The music cut off, plunging the room into profound silence. Everyone turned to look at her, wondering what had happened.
“Party’s over. You have thirty seconds to get out before I call the cops and have you arrested for breaking and entering.”
Outraged and confused murmurs flooded the room, but she didn’t give a lick what they thought of her. All that mattered was they were leaving. When the last person was gone, Olivia slammed the door shut so hard, the paintings on the wall lifted.
What the hell was Spencer thinking, throwing a party? Was that what he had to take care of this morning? Frustration gripped her. She’d been so certain he was changing, taking his thoughtfulness as proof positive. It didn’t make sense that he would do all that if he was just snowing her.
Had something happened today to set him off? To send him back down the rabbit hole? Worry replaced some of her frustration. Had Spencer gotten himself into trouble again?
God, what if he hadn’t closed all the doors to his past? What if he’d started gambling again? What if he owed money?
She found herself standing in the doorway to the guest room before it developed into a conscious thought. Spencer was still passed out cold. A deep ache formed in her chest, so painful she pressed her hand over her heart.
He was so lost. So broken. Their pasts were so different, yet much like hers it clung to him like a dark, suffocating fog. He could no more outrun it than she could. In her head, she heard the hurtful words, felt the cold disconnect, the easy dismissal, as if she held no more value than a stray animal.
Goosebumps erupted down her arms and a shiver traced down her spine. Maybe this was the best either of them could hope for—clinging to life by their fingernails.
Backing out of the room, she closed the door then shut herself inside her own. Kicking off her heels, she crawled into bed fully dressed in her work uniform, curled into a ball, and prayed for a dreamless sleep.
ELEVEN
We need to talk.
Spencer woke up with a massive headache and a note posted on his door. He’d recognized Olivia’s handwriting right away, and groaned inwardly. He’d fucked up.
Yesterday had been a giant clusterfuck of events, starting with Jami’s refusal to accept anything Spencer had to say, and ending with an impromptu party and way too much pot.
He could scarcely remember what happened after he opened the door to a group of old friends from the neighborhood. But he was clearheaded now and he knew, beyond a doubt, that he’d jeopardized everything.
A quick scan of the apartment revealed Olivia gone. A mess of empty bottles and discarded cigarette butts littered the space, leaving behind a bitter, smoky stink that turned his sensitive stomach.
There was no way Olivia would accept his apology for this one. He’d violated her home and what little trust she had for him. Resigned, he turned back to his room and began packing a bag.
He’d wait until she returned and let her say what she had to before he left. She deserved that much.
Clearing his boxers from the top dresser drawer, his fingers grazed the cover of his journal. Picking it up, he crossed back to the bed and sat down, staring at the thing.
In truth, he’d forgotten about it. Dr. O’Valley said he should write in it whenever life got hard. Well, it was hard now. Drawing a line with this thumb down the edge of the pages, he parted the paper and opened it.
Blank lines stared back at him. What to say? Hey, it’s me again. I screwed up…again. Did he really need a written record of every time that happened? If that was the case, he should buy stock in Memo.
No, it was a silly waste of time, especially when no one else would see it. It was enough to have the memory of it, like a giant stain in his head. Standing, he made his way to the kitchen and tossed the book in the trash, pushing it down deep to make sure it didn’t resurface.
After a shower and a fresh change of clothes, Spencer ate a breakfast of dry toast to settle his stomach. He’d definitely overdone it last night. Why couldn’t he just keep his shit together? He knew the moment he stepped foot out the facility’s door that he was going to fail. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when. And here he sat, waiting for yet another mistake to catch up with him.
The consequences were entirely predictable: Olivia would draw the line and kick him out. Done. Over. He’d be on his way.
An hour passed and he was picking up what was left of the trash when she came through the front door.
Bent over with his fingers on a half-burnt cigarillo, Spencer paused to look up. Time froze for the barest moment, and their eyes met. The hurt and anger he saw in hers was crippling.
Straightening, Spencer clutched the garbage bag in a tight fist and faced her.
“You’re still here.” Olivia’s voice was small but steady. Strong. Closing the door, she stepped out of a pair of black ballet flats and hung her purse on a peg on the wall. Then, she faced him, her arms folded across her middle, her eyes downcast.
Spencer swallowed. “I got your note. The least I could do is stick around so you can say your piece.”
She nodded and cut right to the chase. “Why did you do it? And before you say anything, know that I talked to Ally this morning.”
Of course she did. He wondered how much poison Alyson had poured into her head about him. Not that it wouldn't be true. Alyson was the one person who seemed to have him pegged from the beginning.
“The party?” Spencer diverted his gaze to the wall just above her head and shrugged. “It was a bad day. I needed to escape for a while.”
“You needed to escape.” She nodded sadly. “And where did I factor into this? Did it ever occur to you that this is my place? That I work hard to keep a roof over my head and I might not be able to afford to lose it?”
Lips flattening, Spencer’s jaw clenched. “It hadn’t crossed my mind, no. I was more focused on forgetting.” Because he was a sonovabitch. That was the simple truth of it. His talk with Jamison hadn’t gone well, and he’d needed something to take his mind off it.
Expression filled with disbelief, she said, “You’re backsliding.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. Even Ally knew from the look on your face when you left the gym that you were hanging on by a thread.” Her tone turned fierce. “I understand that yesterday didn’t go the way you wanted it to, and I’m sorry about that, but it’s no excuse to do what you’re doing. I won’t stand by and watch you self-destruct. I already did that once. I won’t do it again. You need to talk to someone. Sort this out before it destroys everything you care about.”
He threw his hands up. “It already has! What more can I possibly lose? I have no family, no friends. Hell,” he shouted, holding his arms out toward her, “I don’t even have you! Tell me why I should bother sorting out anything? Give me one good reason why I should waste any more of my time.”
Olivia’s chin quivered and her eyes turned watery. She took a step toward him. “Because I love you, Spence. I can’t stand to watch you keep hurting yourself like this.”
The garbage bag dropped to the floor. Sucking in a breath, Spencer backed away. “Don’t say that,” he growled. “Don’t tell me you love me. I’m not…” –worth it— “…good for you. I’ll only ever hurt you.” Olivia was strong, and yet she was still fragile. He didn’t want to be the cause of her downfall too.
A steady trail of tears began flowing down her reddened cheeks. “That’s not true, you know it’s not. My whole life, I’ve never had anyone I could trust.” She stepped closer, pain sparking in her eyes. “I trust you, Spence.”
And he knew that trust didn’t come easy for her. For either of them. Their history wouldn’t allow it. “Then you’re a fool.” He swallowed tightly, knowing he was being cruel. “Don’t you see what I am?” he asked, punching his chest with his fist. “I’m a massive screwup. I destroy everything, everyone.”
“It was just a party. A slip-up. You’ll get back on track again.”
Now she was making excuses for him. He couldn’t stand it. “Come on, Liv,” he said in a condescending tone. “You and I both know that’s bullshit. Last night happened because I’m weak. It’s the same shit that happens every time I encounter a bump in the road. That’s never going to change. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can move on with your life.”
“What are you saying?”
Turning away from her, he strode to his room. She followed. He felt her watching him from the doorway as he hefted his bag over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was laced with panic. “You’re leaving?”
“Don’t try to stop me.”
“But where will you go?” Despite his instruction, she attempted to block the door. Grasping her shoulders, Spencer gently moved her out of the way. Chasing after him, Olivia rounded his front and smacked her hands against his chest. “You said we weren’t done. You said I belong to you.”
She’s right. He had said that. But it didn’t mean he didn’t regret it now. He never should have opened his big mouth, because now she had something to try and hold onto, when it was the worst thing for her.
He looked down into her puffy, red eyes. God, she was killing him. Forcing his emotions down, he glared at her. “A guy would say just about anything when he’s looking at a naked woman.”
Head rearing back as if she’d been slapped, Olivia gasped. “That’s not why, and you know it. You care about me.”
Her watery voice tore at his heart. Forcing himself to keep walking, Spencer maneuvered around her. “You’re right, I do care. But not enough to stay.” Opening the door, he paused a moment to look back at her. Shoulders folded in, hands clasped over her heart, Olivia appeared so small and frail. Breakable.
His expression pinched as hatred for the man he was swamped him. He abhorred the idea of hurting her, but he saw no other way to save her from himself. “I’m not leaving to hurt you,” he said quietly. “I’m leaving to spare you. One day, you’ll be grateful I left.”
“I won’t.”
He smiled sadly. “Give it time.”
***
The moment the door closed, Olivia collapsed to her knees in grief. He’d walked out on her for the second time. How could she still love him when he kept hurting her?
He said he would never change, but she knew better. She’d seen the change in him. Spencer had chosen a new path, one that would lead him to all the places he wanted to go. Once, he’d told her his dreams, and she felt how powerfully he desired them. The problem was that Spencer had so little faith in himself he couldn’t see what was already there. He was a good man. He just needed a little help. There was no shame in that.
She wanted to be the one to do it, to be his source of strength. But how could she help him if he refused to be helped? She knew he needed something more than her. Just like she once did, he needed someone who specialized in guiding people through life. He needed to talk to a counselor or a therapist, someone who could give him the tools he needed.
At the moment, however, Spencer was unreachable. She knew from experience that he would be too set on punishing himself to see reason. But Olivia’s heart was shredded now. She could no more help him than she could help herself. She had her limits too, and she’d just broken past so many of them, her heart was pounding. It pounded so hard, she couldn’t catch her breath. She was literally drowning in sorrow.
Help, that’s what she needed. The pain was too much to manage alone. She’d known when she’d found him on her doorstep that having Spencer so close could complicate things for her. And it had. Oh, had it ever.
Her Oscar winning performance fooled everyone into thinking she was okay when they broke up the first time, but she’d barely been getting by. She thought that, maybe, if they didn’t label anything, it would be easier to deal if things went south, but she was wrong. Nothing about Spencer walking away was easy.
She’d been denying this moment for a long time. Too long to continue ignoring it now. Recognizing how close to the edge she was, and terrified of losing control, she knew what she had to do.
Olivia’s hand trembled as she reached for the phone and dialed the number she knew by heart.
It rang twice before someone picked up. The young female voice that floated down the line soothed her. “Dr. Peterson’s office.”
Throat raw from crying, Olivia said, “I’d like to schedule an appointment.”
Dark, dangerous thoughts shuffled through her mind like a deck of cards, projecting onto the backs of her closed lids. Unable to stand the images, she forced her eyes open and ended up staring down at her clenched hands instead, seeing the nearly invisible iridescent lines that marred her wrists—a permanent reminder of what would happen if she lost control again.
They called to her, those perfectly spaced scars. She could almost feel the sting of relief as the skin parted beneath the blade.
She shook her head violently, her blonde ponytail whipping around her shoulders. She couldn’t go back there, couldn’t afford the cost. Her throat tight, she told the receptionist, “It’s an emergency.”
TWELVE
“I only know what Jami told me.” Alyson sat at Olivia’s kitchen table, rolling a mug of hot tea between her palms.
Olivia had gone to see her as soon as she’d hung up with Dr. Peterson’s receptionist. They couldn’t get her in until the following week, and she couldn’t continue to sit idle. Keeping active was her only recourse. So she called her friend. Even though she wasn’t aware of how deep her struggle went, Ally was there within the hour.
“Are you sure he didn’t say anything too…mean? You know how sensitive Spence can be. He looks up to Jami. Sees him as a brother.”
Olivia had tried calling Spencer on his burner, but it kept going to voicemail. His head wasn’t in the right place, and she didn’t like how they’d left things. If she was messed up, she could only imagine how he was doing. She was worried about him, about where he was, who he was with, and what he might do.
Ally made a frustrated sound. “I know, Liv. Jami feels the same way, but after what Spencer cost him, he’s just not r
eady to forgive and forget. I feel bad for him too, but you of all people should understand.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, growing defensive.
“Not to be mean, but just look at the way he left you. One bump in the road and he packs his bags?”
Olivia looked away feeling the fresh bite of pain at the memory. “He just needs time. Spence didn’t exactly have the best upbringing. With the mistakes he’s made, he’s just struggling to figure out where he belongs, what his purpose is.” She lifted her head, pegging Ally with a firm look. “You of all people should understand that,” she said, throwing her words back.
Sitting up taller, Ally met her gaze. “I’m not trying to pick a fight. I know you think you love him—”
“I do love him.”
“I’m sure it feels that way,” Ally tossed back, “but I bet if you gave it even half a chance, you’d find that you could live without him. And I don’t have to tell you how much better your life would be because of it.”
Growing angry, Olivia pushed her own cup of tea away. “If you didn’t intend to pick a fight, then you failed miserably.” She pressed her hand to her chest and said emphatically, “I love Spencer, the same way you love Jami. And it’s because of that love that I know living without him would only be a shadow of a life.”
Rising from the table, Olivia began to pace. “You sit there, passing judgment on someone you don’t even know. I know who Spencer is. I know he’s done wrong. But he’s trying to do right. If you took even a second to hear what I’m telling you, you would realize that.”
Her features pinching, Ally flatted her palms on the table and pushed to her feet. “Liv, I wasn’t trying to trivialize how you feel about him. I just think that you need to take a step back and see the bigger picture here.”
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