Mercenary

by Michelle Horst

Life returns to my shocked mind and I yank my head away from him.

  “That’s none of your business. Get out,” I spit the words at him.

  “When was the last time you ate something decent?” he asks, still ignoring my anger. I don’t understand why he’s here. Why the hell does he care if I’ve eaten?

  “Mason,” I hiss his name for the first time, making us both go still.

  Emotions swirl violently in my chest and it makes the world shrink until it’s just the two of us.

  “Please go,” I whisper when his presence becomes too much to handle.

  He nods slowly, the look in his eyes too intense, I can’t meet them, and then he turns around and walks away.

  My eyes dance over his broad shoulders and muscled back. He looks so strong, and, for a weird moment, I wonder if he’s strong enough to carry me because I’m not strong enough to keep myself going anymore.

  I sit down on the bed and stare at the spot I last saw him. I can still feel his feather-light touch on my cheek. He touched my scars as if they were nothing. I didn’t see any fear or revulsion in his eyes.

  He looked at me like he always did. He still sees the Olivia from before the accident, and suddenly it matters a lot to me that he keeps seeing me as that Olivia.

  ~ Mason ~

  I stir the pasta again so it won’t stick and then check on the chicken. I haven’t cooked a meal in a long time even though I used to love cooking. I still do. I just don’t have anyone to cook for.

  My thoughts go back to Olivia. It was a shock seeing the scars but I think I kept my composure. At least, I hope I did. Even with the scars, she’s still beautiful. I guess it’s because I know that she’s a beautiful person on the inside too. Not even the accident could take that from her.

  I still see the light fighting to spark to life in her eyes, and, so help me God, I’m going to make it burn like a wild fire again.

  But first, I need to get some proper food inside her and then I’ll slowly draw her out of the darkness she’s cocooning herself in.

  When I’m finished grilling the chicken, I drain the pasta. I mix everything together until it’s a creamy Chicken Alfredo. I fill three containers and then make sure the stove is turned off before I take the containers to Olivia’s place.

  I unlock the door, and once inside, I kick it closed behind me. After placing the food on the counter I quickly wash the dishes.

  Olivia peeking around the corner catches my eye. I watch as she frowns.

  “You again,” she whispers while cautiously coming closer. I know she doesn’t trust me but that’s something that will change over time.

  “I made food,” I say as I place two clean plates, two forks and two glasses of water on the counter. I pull out a stool and take a seat. She’s just watching me as I fork some food onto both of the plates. I push one to her side of the counter and pull one closer to me. I start to eat, hoping that she’ll join me.

  “Why?” she whispers as she sits down across from me.

  “I need to eat and you need to eat,” I say between bites.

  Thankfully, she leaves it at that and the fork freezes halfway to my mouth when she picks up her own and spears a piece of chicken. I watch her bring the food to her mouth and then she takes a bite. Only when she starts to chew do I realize I’m staring. I have to suppress the smile as the corner of my mouth starts to pull to the side and quickly take another bite.

  That’s one win for me. At least she’s eating.

  We eat in silence and I’m thankful when she finishes everything on the plate. She’s gotten really skinny and needs to pick up weight again.

  Without a word, I get up and wash the plates and glasses. I leave them on the drying rack and then place the other containers in her fridge.

  I stop to look at her and I can see the questions swirling in her brown eyes.

  “You matter,” I whisper before I walk to the door. Without another glance, I open it and make sure to lock it behind me.

  I stare at the keys, only now realizing she didn’t ask for them back.

  ~ Olivia ~

  Three nights in a row. He’s brought me food three nights in a row. All we do is eat, and then he leaves.

  I cleaned today. I couldn’t let him eat in a filthy place. He took the empty containers with him tonight. I don’t know what that means. Will he come tomorrow night or was the three nights of eating together a one-time thing?

  I walk out onto the balcony and stare down at the car park. It’s not much of a view but at least I’m outside.

  Like clockwork, Mason walks into the car park. He stops at his old beaten up truck and then he looks up.

  Every night when he leaves, he looks up and he sees me. The person I was. The person I am. The person I’m becoming. He sees me … Olivia Nicols.

  I used to fear his eyes so much because of the darkness in them, but now they draw me in.

  I was wrong when I thought that his eyes were empty, that he was dangerous because he might have nothing to lose. Mason Crowe lives in the shadows like I do now. That means, something hurt him. Mason is not the monster I once thought he was. Just like me, he’s wounded.

  Who would have thought that I would find a kinship in Mason Crowe from apartment 3C?

  I don’t know what will come from this friendship, or if I can even call it that.

  Deep down I hope he comes tomorrow. I miss being seen, being heard.

  ~ Mason ~

  I carry the bags up the stairs and then go straight for Olivia’s place. The last three nights have been successful but now I’m upping the game. I’ll cook the food in her place and I hope she’ll help out. I’m just trying to keep her going with the mundane things in life. She can’t waste away in that bed of hers.

  I unlock the door and smile. She still hasn’t asked for the keys, which is a really good sign.

  Lightly, I kick the door closed and walk to the kitchen. I place the bags on the counter and start taking the stuff out. I keep the burger patties and buns out along with some veggies to make a side salad with.

  I’m just done unpacking when she peeks around the corner. Her eyes dart to the counter and then she walks closer.

  She’s washed her hair and instead of the usual t-shirt and shorts, she’s actually wearing a light pink dress. My lips twitch in approval.

  “Can I help?” she asks and for the first time since we’ve started doing this, she steps around the counter and into the kitchen. She comes to stand next to me and when I don’t say anything, she looks up. She hardly reaches my shoulder and her huge brown eyes make something loosen in my chest.

  Scars aside, Olivia is everything I would look for in a woman … if I were looking. She’s petite and feminine. I bet her skin is soft.

  “Mason?” she asks when I’m still just staring at her.

  I push the veggies closer to her. “Salad.”

  I grab a pan and then go about grilling the burgers. We work in silence until the food is ready and then we sit down and eat. When we’re done, she gets up and I watch as she does the dishes.

  Tonight was a success.

  With her back still to me she asks, “Why do you do this?”

  “We’re meant to connect with people. We’re not meant to be alone.”

  She places the last glass on the drying rack and then turns to face me.

  “You’re alone.”

  I nod slightly and get up. “That’s who I’ve always been. You’re not like me. You’re meant to be out there helping people.”

  A frown forms on her forehead and then her eyes meet mine. I can see a spark of anger and frustration in them.

  “Look at me. I’m a freak! I can’t help people anymore.” Her eyes drop to the floor and then she whispers, “I’m just a scarred freak.”

  I take two steps towards her, closing the distance between us. Lifting my hand to her face, I take hold of her chin. Her eyes dart up to mine and I see them shimmering with unshed tears.

  “No.” I shake my head and then let m
y fingers brush over the scarred skin. “This is just your face, Olivia. You’re still the same person on the inside.”

  She pulls slightly back and shakes her head. Her eyes fall on my chest.

  “It’s not just my face,” she whispers, and it sounds hollow with pain. “He scarred my soul when he ripped my life away from me.”

  I let my fingers slip behind her neck and I pull her into a half hug.

  “Even the most scarred heart can be healed, Olivia. Your life is happening with or without you. It’s your choice to take it back or throw it all away.”

  I press a kiss to the top of her head and then let her go. I walk out of her apartment and I hope with all my heart she heard what I was saying.

  Only time will tell if she’s willing to fight for her life.

  ~ Olivia ~

  It’s been two weeks since we started the eating together thing. Tonight I’m going to the store so I’ve tried my best to cover the scars with some make-up. I feel guilty that Mason is buying all the food.

  Seven months have passed since the accident, and I feel horribly ill with nerves. Will people stare?

  I’ve even curled my hair so half of it hangs over the scarred side. I look in the mirror and for a moment I can almost imagine that there are no scars hiding under my hair and layers of make-up.

  I grab my bag and walk to the front door. It feels like every step I take weighs a ton. My chest is so tight and every breath feels like it’s being forced into my lungs. I’m afraid of the world outside my door.

  I know I have to do this. I have to start going out again. The rational part of me knows this, but the damaged part of me fears being rejected by a world I once loved.

  Although I’ve paid most of my student debt, I still have some left. I no longer get the amazing salary I got from the hospital, and I don’t have a huge nest egg to live off. I can’t go back to Aunt Lucy, either. It’s not that she won’t have me – I just have too much pride to go crawling back to her. I still want to succeed on my own, but the problem is that I don’t know how to do that anymore.

  Maybe I can find a job where I don’t have to interact with people something at night where I can hide behind closed doors. There has to be something out there for someone like me.

  Slowly, I reach for the door and unlock it. I turn the knob at a snail's pace, and my heart starts to thump heavily in my chest. The door clicks open and I start to suck in deeper breaths.

  “I can do this,” I whisper, willing myself to find my courage.

  I close my eyes and with the next heavy thump of my heart, I yank the door open. I don’t know what I expected but the quietness that greets me is somehow not it.

  I glance at Jane’s apartment and can’t help but think that she has not once offered to help with something since the accident. Mason was the last person on this planet that I expected anything from but for some reason he’s the only person who seems to care.

  It’s a weird thought … Mason caring about me – him being compassionate about anything really. I never took him for the considerate kind but in his own quiet way he cares so much.

  The fact that he is actually concerned about me - a stranger who has done everything in her power to avoid him - gives me the courage to walk to the stairs. The thought of his generosity while I pushed him away makes me walk down the stairs and out of the building for the first time in a month.

  I keep my head low as I briskly walk to the Walmart that’s only a few blocks away. It’s just after eleven pm and the streets aren’t busy, for which I’m thankful.

  I make sure my hair is covering my face as I get to the Walmart and then I slip inside. There aren’t a lot of people and I let out a sigh of relief as I start to walk up and down the aisles. I have to admit that it’s actually nice being out of the apartment. I have never been the introvert type and staying locked up in the apartment is starting to drive me insane.

  I get all the ingredients to make steaks, mashed potatoes and coleslaw. When I get to the check-out line to pay for everything a man catches my eye. My eyes widen with shock when I realize it’s John Brown. For a moment I watch as he pays for some beer and when he’s done and starts to walk away from me, I leave my stuff right there and go after him.

  My heart starts to beat wildly as I follow him into the night. Thoughts flash through my mind of the awful things I want to do to him to make him pay.

  I follow him all the way to a house and long after he’s gone inside, I still stand there, shaking with emotion. I now know where he lives. I know where he buys his beer. I can watch him while I plan my revenge.

  ~ Mason ~

  When I get back to my place after watching Haywood, I’m surprised to find Olivia sitting outside my door.

  “Olivia?” I ask as I get closer.

  She just stares at the floor, shaking her head slowly.

  I crouch in front of her. “Hey, what happened?”

  Her eyes leave the floor and crawl their way up to mine. I’m surprised to see that she’s wearing make-up. Except for the distraught look in her eyes, she actually looks better than I’ve seen her look in the past few weeks.

  “I went to Walmart,” she whispers. Her eyes mist up with tears, making them take on a vulnerable look.

  “And?” I ask, praying that someone didn’t say something about her scars. It was a huge step for her to go to the store, and I’d hate for her to suffer a setback.

  “I wanted to make dinner tomorrow night …” she tries to smile but it changes into a painful grimace. “Steaks and mashed potatoes.”

  I sit down in front of her and patiently wait for her to go on.

  “I saw him.” It’s such a soft whisper I have to strain to hear her. “He bought beer. I followed him home.”

  I frown, not following her at all.

  “Who did you follow, Sweetheart?”

  “John Brown.” A tear spills from her eye and trickles down her cheek. “The man who did this to me.”

  I take a deep breath and try to think of the right thing to say but I come up empty.

  “Why did you follow him?” I ask instead.

  “He should pay for what he did to me. He never paid.”

  She starts to shake her head again, looking so forlorn that it tears at my heart.

  “What do you mean, he didn’t pay?” I ask patiently, wanting to keep her talking.

  “His brother is some big shot investor for the city. He got away with a suspended license and some community service. He got away because I didn’t matter.”

  Her face crumbles and I quickly move forward. I pull her into my arms and hold her tightly to my chest as she cries for the injustice done to her.

  I press a kiss to her hair and whisper, “You matter, Olivia. You matter.”

  My body stiffens when she inches closer to me, almost climbing into my lap. Her arms come around my waist and she clings to me as if I’m the only thing keeping her from drowning in her despair.

  “Only to you,” she whispers into my chest and then her shoulders start to shake with laughter. I’m just about to think she’s losing it when she pulls back and says, “You know you’re screwed when your biggest fear becomes your only hope.”

  She laughs harder until tears overwhelm her again.

  Patiently, I wait for her to calm down before I say, “I’m sorry I scared you that day.”

  Her eyes come back to mine and she starts to shake her head.

  “No, let me do this.” I slip my hand over her scarred cheek. “Someone has to say sorry to you, Olivia. You deserve that much. I’m sorry I scared you so much that you ran into the street. If I hadn’t been there, you might have seen the car coming. Things might have been different. I’m sorry for the part I played in your accident.”

  She pulls away from me and a hurt look shadows her face.

  “Is that why you’re spending time with me? You feel guilty?”

  I drop my eyes from hers and get to my feet. I help her up and then step back from her.

  �
��At first, yes,” I answer honestly.

  She nods once and wipes her hands nervously over her stomach.

  “You don’t have to,” she says, her voice hoarse from the tears she’s trying to keep back. I can see the flicker of rejection in her eyes.

  “It’s not why I spend time with you now,” I whisper, not wanting her to look so dejected.

  “Oh.”

  I’m not sure what’s happening right now and I honestly think she’s just as lost as me. It’s as if something more than friendship has sparked to life between us. Neither of us is in a good place in our lives to start a relationship, but then again, if something more is meant to happen between us, I’m definitely not going to say no.