Saved

by Hazel James

  Clay squints at her. “HEA?”

  “Happily ever after.” She bounces once on her toes and pads back to her section. A quiet “hmm” is Clay’s only response, but that doesn’t bother me.

  Not with the way he tightens his grip on my shoulders.

  Mom’s face pops up on my screen, her eyes instantly assessing me. “You’re not sleeping well,” she declares after several seconds.

  I sigh. There’s no use denying it or coming up with a bullshit excuse that she’ll see through before the words even leave my mouth. “Things are a little stressful at Battles right now, that’s all.”

  “Are they overworking you? I think you should take some time off and come home to rest.”

  “I’m working my normal hours, Mom. We’re just busy with getting everything ready for the grand opening.”

  She pauses, scanning my face again. “Not buying it. The last time I talked to you, you said everything was on track for the opening.”

  Dammit. I did say that. Other than a couple of hiccups, our plans are progressing as scheduled. The flooring was installed yesterday, the equipment will be delivered next week, and we’ll do a soft opening the week after that.

  “Why don’t I call you this evening and we can finish our chat then?” I suggest.

  Mom’s voice shoots up an octave. “What are you not telling me? Are you feeling sick again? Did you find a lump somewhere?”

  “No! Jesus, calm down. I’m just having a personality conflict with one of the guys at work.”

  “What does ‘personality conflict’ mean?”

  “Stupid stuff. He’s been pulling seventh-grade pranks for a month now. It almost feels like he’s trying to get me to quit.”

  Mom laughs. “Well that’s dumb. Hasn’t he figured out that no one can make you do anything you don’t want to do?” Her comment makes me smile. Growing up, she’d tease me about changing my middle name to Stubborn. “Why does he want you to quit, anyway?”

  I’d rather not get into the specifics, so I choose my words carefully. “I don’t think he likes having a woman taking over his position and doing it better than he did. I’ve found so many things that he’s messed up. It was little stuff at first, but the more I look, the more shit I’m finding.” I release a long breath, thinking about the bank statement that came in two days ago. “I think I have to tell Clay.”

  Mom nods. “That’s why you’re not sleeping well.”

  “Mm hmm.” I’ve been in some tough situations in the Army, but none of them have prepared me for something like this. How am I supposed to tell my boyfriend that there’s a good chance his best friend has been stealing money from Battles?

  I sigh again, dreading the conversation already. “I should probably go.”

  “Keep your chin up, sweetie. From what you’ve said about Clay, he’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

  “Thanks. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  I end the call and set my phone down as Marshall strolls into the office with his eyes trained on me. “Good morning.”

  “Hey,” I squeak. Shit! Did he just get here? Or was he standing outside the office the whole time? I casually smile and search his face for signs of anger. He doesn’t look any different than he usually does, except… “Are you wearing contacts?”

  He unzips his bag and retrieves a water bottle. “Yeah. Pharmacy was out of the clear ones I normally get, so they gave me blue instead.”

  I’m surprised they look so real—I can’t see any light-green showing through. Rebecca’s blathered on more than one occasion about how beautiful Marshall’s natural eye color is, but I’d cut off my left arm before admitting I agree with her.

  Speaking of Rebecca, I reach around Marshall to grab a stack of freshly printed gym membership forms and deliver them to the front desk. “Oh good! These just came in and I need your help.” She pulls up the proofs for the family photo shoot she had last weekend. “I’m torn between this one,” she points to an image of Bristol with a red and yellow wildflower tucked behind her ear, “and this one.” She scrolls to a photo of her lying on the grass with her chin propped on her hands. Both are adorable, but then again, taking a bad picture of that kid is impossible.

  “The flower one,” Marshall interjects, coming up behind us. He leans down to kiss Rebecca on the cheek. She smiles, and I gag.

  “Yeah?” She enlarges the photo and tilts her head to the side.

  “Absolutely. She’s a beautiful kid as it is, but this is stunning. You should print it on one of those big canvases. I could even come over and help you hang it once you move.”

  She beams up at him and then remembers I’m standing here, too. “What do you think, Leilani?”

  I glance at the computer screen again. As much as it pains me to say it, he’s right. That picture belongs in a magazine. “The flower one.”

  “Thanks!”

  “No prob.” I turn to leave when Marshall calls my name.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  What the hell kind of question is that? “I’m fine. Why?”

  He shrugs. “You just look like you haven’t been sleeping well. Is something wrong?”

  My knees threaten to buckle and my blood turns to ice. Fuck, fuck, fuck! That’s exactly what my mom said. He must’ve heard our entire conversation. I force the corners of my lips upward and meet his gaze. “Like I said, I’m fine.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He places another kiss on Rebecca’s cheek and pushes off the desk. “See you at lunch, babe.”

  “I’ve never met anyone who’s as thoughtful as him,” she gushes when he turns the corner into the main gym. “Isn’t he the sweetest?”

  “The sweetest,” I echo, my mind whirling. Now that I know he heard me on the phone, the clock is ticking.

  I need to get to Clay before Marshall does.

  Rather than panicking, I think about the two things I have in my favor: Marshall’s morning clients and the fact that Clay’s in Oklahoma City meeting with the team of counselors who will work at the new gym.

  I walk as casually as possible back to the office and click through a series of sub-folders on the computer until I reach one called Interior Paint Colors that contains my evidence against Marshall.

  A few minutes later, I’m at Rebecca’s desk with a folder in my hand. “Clay called and asked me to bring the hiring stuff he forgot to take. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

  I release a string of profanities when I see Clay’s blue truck in the Battles parking lot.

  My mission to intercept him was more like a wild goose chase. The receptionist at the office in Oklahoma City said he left ten minutes before I got there. I thought about calling him, but what the hell was I supposed to say? Can we meet for coffee? I think your best friend is screwing you and your business over.

  Clutching my folder to my chest, I take the side entrance to the gym and fly into his office. “Thank God you’re—”

  The rest of my sentence fades into silence when he glances up from his desk, rage etched in sharp angles on his face. I’ve only seen him angry twice before—at Cattlemen’s after those guys were rude to me and the night Travis showed up at my apartment. Neither of those times come close to the way he looks right now.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Close the door.” His voice is low, icy, and the relief that flooded me moments ago vanishes. “What the fuck, Leilani?” he asks as soon as the latch clicks shut. “Did you really think you could get away with it?”

  My face twists. “What are you talking about?”

  “This!” He explodes out of his chair and rounds the desk, his eyes boring into me as he thrusts a handful of papers into the air. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me? By stealing?”

  The fuck? I stare at him, like that’ll help me make sense of what he’s saying. “I haven’t stolen anything.”

  “So your signature magically showed up all by itself?”
/>   “I didn’t—” His glare cuts me off, and that’s when I know.

  Marshall got to Clay first.

  He lets out a disgusted snort as his eyes scan the length of my body. “I can’t fucking believe I fell in love with a thief,” he says, his lips drawn into a snarl.

  Shock over his admission and confusion about this entire conversation give way to my own dose of rage because fuck him for pulling the same bullshit he did after Travis left. I’m not going to stand here and beg him to take my side. “And I can’t believe you have your head shoved so far up your ass you can’t see what’s right under your fucking nose,” I shoot back. “You deserve everything that’s coming to you. My only regret is not being here to see it.”

  The muscles in his jaw clench and the veins in his neck bulge. “You have one hour to get your shit out of DH’s apartment, or I’m pressing charges.”

  His venom-laced words hit their mark, but I refuse to let the bastard see me break. I drop my folder, lift my Battles polo over my head, and throw it at his feet. “Wouldn’t want to steal company property,” I spit out.

  DH is at the apartment when I get there, standing guard like a sentinel to make sure I don’t take anything that’s not mine. Fuck him.

  I yank my suitcases off the top shelf of the closet and haphazardly shove my clothes inside, saving one shirt to wear so I’m not making a nine-hour drive in my sports bra. I don’t have any moving boxes, so I stuff my dry groceries and toiletries into garbage bags and add those to the back seat of my Jeep, then toss my house key at DH and hit the road.

  On the way out of town, I call Dr. Anderson’s office to cancel my surgery next month and send a voice-to-text to Kiki.

  Something came up. I’m driving back to Colorado. I don’t feel like talking, so I’m turning off my phone. I’ll let you know when I get there. Love you.

  Two counties over, my tears finally fall. When I came to Oklahoma, I had no boobs and no boyfriend, but I had hope.

  Of all the things I lost today, that one hurts the most.

  Blue Falcon

  THE WORLD GOES ON. THAT’S what an old counselor used to tell us in group therapy. While we were holed up inside, seeking comfort at the bottom of a bottle or the tip of a needle, the world kept spinning. People kept living.

  I know this is true because for the rest of the week, my clients showed up at Battles like they always did, expecting me to help them with their problems. I could’ve canceled their sessions or brought in one of my new hires to fill in for me, but that would’ve meant Leilani got the last laugh and that wasn’t happening.

  I didn’t mind, though. Every appointment became a performance, and by the end of each day, I was too exhausted to think or feel or do anything except catch a few hours of dreamless sleep on my couch.

  My mission to distract myself continued on Saturday, when I made the hour-and-a-half drive to Charon’s Garden in Indiahoma. I hiked the trail three times and would have gone for a fourth if I hadn’t rolled my ankle. It still hurt a little bit this morning, so I traded my rock climbing plans for an afternoon of kayaking at Lake Hefner instead.

  I wanted to take Leilani there after the grand opening. They have stand-up paddle boards similar to the ones we rented in Hawaii, and I found an adaptive paddle online so she could do more than sit on the front of my board. It was going to be a thank-you present for all the extra work she did for Battles 2.

  “Clay?”

  My eyes focus on the head peeking around the front door. “Hey, Mom,” I say with as much enthusiasm as a kid going to the dentist.

  “Are you okay? I knocked twice.”

  “Sorry, must not have heard you.” I lean back on the couch and prop my feet on the coffee table.

  “Where have you been? I’ve hardly seen you this week.”

  “Just busy with work.” That’s not entirely untrue. Between my clients and trying to figure out where I’m at with the grand opening, I have been busy.

  She lifts a brow as she plucks a pair of cargo shorts off the couch and sits beside me.

  “What? It’s not that messy.” Sure, there’s a stack of empty Boston cream pudding cups on the table beside my feet and a few days’ worth of clothes on the arm of the sofa, but isn’t a guy entitled to a break every now and then?

  “I dropped off the baby quilt I made for DH and Paige.”

  If this were any other week, I’d actually give a shit. Right now, all I can muster is a half-assed, “That’s nice.”

  “He mentioned there was an incident with Leilani but didn’t give me any details. What happened?”

  Hearing her name is the equivalent of stubbing my toe—it hurts, and it pisses me off. “There’s nothing to talk about. She screwed up. I fired her. End of story.”

  Mom’s jaw falls slack. “You fired her for making a mistake? That seems a little… harsh.”

  “Nineteen mistakes,” I clarify, picturing the stack of papers Marshall found in the filing cabinet. “She sold nineteen six-month memberships to Battles.”

  “Why is that a problem?”

  “I don’t offer six-month memberships.”

  She pauses to digest the information. “Well, what did she say about it?”

  “Jesus Christ, Mom!” My hand flies into the air and lands with a thud on the cushion. “There was no point in asking her! Every page had her signature on it. She deliberately and repeatedly stole money from me. From my business. Nothing she could have said would have made that okay. Can we stop talking about this now?”

  Mom’s lips press into a thin line, which I learned as a kid was the sign for not a chance. “Leilani loves that gym as much as you do. When has she ever given you a reason to doubt that?”

  Last fucking Tuesday, I think to myself, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I literally have the proof in writing. My decision is final.”

  I’ve barely dropped my hand before Mom raises hers to deliver a stinging slap on the back of my head. “Ow!” I glower at her and massage the point of impact. “What the hell was that for?”

  “You might be a grown man, but I’m still your mother. I have no problem smacking some sense into you when you’re acting like an idiot.”

  “Hold on. You’re siding with a thief, and I’m the idiot?”

  She tips her head toward the ceiling and mutters, “Lord, forgive him for his stupidity,” then pushes herself off the couch. “Ten years ago, your father and I could have taken one look at you lying in a pile of vomit on our bathroom floor and decided you weren’t worth the effort. We could have judged you on the evidence we saw in that one moment and walked away. If we had, I doubt you’d be alive right now. You’d do good to remember that.”

  I pull into the Battles parking lot just after midnight. Insomnia isn’t my favorite way to start out the week, but at least I can catch up on the grand opening stuff without any distractions. Jesse’s supposed to send the photos from our shoot in a couple of days, and once I have those, I can finalize the print ads. The rest of the details are anyone’s guess. Hopefully I can go through Leilani’s folders on my computer and figure out what’s left.

  Scratch that.

  I will figure out what’s left. I opened this gym without her, and I can do it again.

  I park next to Marshall’s truck, which is parked next to the side entrance. The only time he doesn’t text me when he’s coming to the gym late is when he’s pissed and wants to work out alone. My phone’s been quiet all night, so I make a note to steer clear of him as I unlock the door.

  Halfway to my office, I see him coming from the locker room side of the building. That’s not abnormal, but the wide-eyed girl trailing two steps behind him takes me by surprise. Her hair’s wet and she’s wearing clothes from the donation bin that Marshall suggested we start.

  “What’s up?” he asks, shaking my hand and clapping me on the back.

  “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d get some shit done.”

  Marshall tips his head toward the girl.
“This is Brandy. I told her she could shower here and then I’d take her to grab some food.”

  Brandy’s eyes are even rounder than they were seconds ago, and she’s hugging herself so tight her fingers are digging into her arms. She reminds me of the kids I met in Hawaii.

  Hungry.

  Tired.

  Terrified.

  Like them, she looks like she’s seen too much in her short life. I fucking hate that.

  “I’m glad to have you here,” I say, offering up a warm smile. “You’re in good hands with Marshall, but if you need anything from me, just let me know.”

  She nods slightly but doesn’t say anything.

  “Well, we’ll let you get to it.” Marshall glances at Brandy and tips his head toward the door.

  They make it a few steps past me when I stop him. “Do you remember what you did with the folder Leilani threw on the floor before she left?”

  He turns back to me with his brows scrunched. “I probably tossed it. Why?”

  “I just wondered if it was stuff for Battles 2. That’s what I came here to work on.”

  “Sorry, bro. If you want, I can help you when I’m done with my clients tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good. Hey… uh… thanks for all your help with that shit last week. I’m glad you had my back.”

  He wipes a fake tear and sniffs. “I love it when you’re sentimental.”

  “Fuck you,” I mutter, lifting my middle finger for emphasis.

  That makes him laugh, but his smile fades when he looks over his shoulder. “Where’s Brandy?”

  I shrug. “She walked outside a few seconds ago.”

  “Shit. I’ll see you later.” He jogs the short distance to the door, and then he’s gone.

  His reaction catches me off guard. I know he’s been helping homeless people out all summer, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen him give a shit. The Marshall I met two years ago never would have chased after a homeless girl just to make sure she had a hot meal.

  I feel like a proud father.