Remington eyed me again, clearly wondering about my relationship with his father, but not asking any questions. “Yep. Nice to meet you, Olivia.”
“You too, Remington.”
He shot me another of those grins. “Hey, any friend of my dad’s is a friend of mine. Especially such a pretty friend.” He winked at me. “Call me Rem.”
“Turn the charm off, Rem. Don’t be a hound dog,” Lucas growled.
I just laughed. “Charm is harmless, Lucas.”
Lucas chortled with wry amusement. “Not with my boys it ain’t.”
I laughed and waved at Remington as he left, and then set to work with the clippers, blending the sides and back of Lucas’s hair before clipping his beard down and reshaping it into a neat oval.
Finished, I brushed the excess hair off his shoulders and stepped back, nodding. “Not bad for kitchen scissors,” I said. “Next time, I’ll use my actual grooming set and it’ll look even better.”
He lumbered to his feet and headed for the bathroom—I noticed his limp was more obvious. He peered at his reflection, turning his head this way and that.
“Damn, girl. I ain’t had a haircut this good in my whole damn life!” He stroked his beard, ran his hands through his hair. “Don’t look like a bear just coming out of hibernation.”
“You look at least ten years younger,” I said. “And easily twice as handsome.”
He glanced at me in the mirror. “Twice as handsome, huh?” He grinned.
I blushed, dusting the hair off of my forearms and hands. “You may want to rinse off, now, or you’ll be itchy.”
He turned to face me—I was standing just inside the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Thank you, Olivia. I was making a damn mess of it.”
I shrugged. “You’re very welcome. I’m glad to help.” I couldn’t help meeting his eyes. “Do you have plans for the rest of today?”
He took a towel from the ring and used it to dust his shoulders off, and then shook his head. “Nah. I did my hours at the hardware store this mornin’.”
I hesitated. “I, um. I was headed up to the Deer Mountain trail. It’s a beautiful day out, and I wondered if you’d like to…you know, come with me.”
Lucas huffed, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. “A hike, huh?”
I resisted the urge to overexplain. “Yes. Not a long or difficult one. Just a nice walk in the woods.”
He let out a long breath. “I dunno. I did some work with Roman yesterday, tryin’ to get this bum leg of mine back up to normal.”
I nodded. “Okay, that’s fine.”
He eyed me, his expression unreadable. “It’s not that I don’t want to.”
I shrugged, lifted a palm. “I know. Strengthening your leg after an injury is important.”
He growled. “It should be back to normal already, though, dammit. The wreck was a fuckin’ year ago.”
I frowned. “Oh. It must have been a pretty bad wreck, then.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. Messed up the leg pretty bad. Didn’t need any hardware in there, but it was a touch and go thing. Doc wanted to put screws in, but I was hopeful it’d heal.” He leaned a palm on the counter, letting out a harsh breath. “Problem is, I ain’t been workin’ it like I should. Babyin’ it, limpin’ around with the damn cane like a man twenty years older than I really am.”
I had a million questions. “What really happened, Lucas?”
He shook his head. “Old news and a bad story. Nothin’ you need to darken your life with.”
“So…is that a no, then? For the hike?” I asked, hating how let down I felt.
“I just dunno, Liv. I really like spending time with you. I just don’t know that I’m ready for a hike in the woods.”
I nodded, ignoring the hollow, cold pit in my stomach. “Sure. I understand. Maybe another time.” I pushed away from the doorframe. “You really do look much younger and very handsome, now that you’re cleaned up.”
He grinned at me, but it wasn’t as bright or dizzying as usual. “Now I just gotta lose…oh, fifty pounds or so, and I’ll be in business.” He slapped his belly.
I couldn’t quite smile back, shaking my head. “You don’t need to do anything.”
He rolled a shoulder. “The doctor might think differently.”
I tried a smile. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
He nodded, smile gone, joviality fading. “Yep. Have a good hike.”
I left his apartment, fighting back the disappointment that I knew I shouldn’t feel. This is why I shouldn’t let myself like him. We were different people, and our lives just didn’t mesh. I was just courting more pain by pretending even a friendship with Lucas Badd could work.
I should stop the games and move on with my life.
Trouble was, that was easier said than done; I liked Lucas.
I shouldn’t, but I did.
7
Lucas
Goddammit.
I stood at my front window, watching Olivia walk out to her truck; dejection was evident in every line of her body, in her posture, in her walk. It had been written all over her face.
And it made me feel like shit—for letting her down and hurting her, which I clearly had done. I felt worse for being such a weakling. If I had been doing my rehab I wouldn’t be in this position right now.
I watched her get into her truck, start it, but she didn’t leave right away.
A hot knot formed in my throat and traveled down into my stomach. Since when was I so fucking weak? So willing to let an opportunity to be around a woman like Olivia Goode slip by, just because I had a bad knee?
Fuck that. It wasn’t a bad knee, or a bad leg. It was laziness. Excuses.
Shit.
I growled a long string of curses under my breath, and hustled into my room. I tugged on socks and a pair of boots the boys had bought me when I first moved to Alaska. Found the backpack they’d also given me, and threw a few bottles of water into it, along with a handful of the protein bars Roman had made me buy the other day. There was also the big, thick walking stick Ramsey had made me—seven feet tall, thick as my wrist, with a spiky, bulbous knob on top. He’d sanded it and stained it and polished it, and had even worked a natural grip spot into the wood near the middle, where I gripped it. It was a beautiful piece of workmanship, and I hadn’t used it even once.
I shoved my cheap drug-store sunglasses onto my face and hurried outside, not giving myself time to second-guess this decision.
“Wait!” I called out, just as Liv was getting ready to back out.
She heard me, and put the truck back into park. I did my best to keep the limp out of my walk as I approached the passenger side; she rolled down the window as I neared it. “Change your mind?”
I angled my walking stick into the backseat and then slid into the passenger seat. “Yeah, I did.”
“For you, or for me?” she asked.
“Both.”
Her smile was infectious—happy, joyful. “Good answer.”
I absentmindedly massaged my leg where it still tended to throb sometimes. I watched Liv drive; she went an exact three miles per hour above the speed limit, used her turn signals religiously, and checked her blind spots at least three times before changing lanes.
She seemed content to let the silence stretch as she drove to the trailhead, and we didn’t exchange a word the whole way, until she parked on the right side of the gravel road behind a row of cars, shut the windows, and got out.
Smiling at me with an eager gleam to her eyes, she donned her backpack. “Ready?”
I slung my own onto my back and stamped my walking stick into the ground. “As I’ll ever be.”
She laughed. “It’s a little hike, Lucas, not a month-long excursion into the deep bush.”
“Funny thing is, when I was young, I wouldn’ta thought twice about a trip like that—a month out there in the bush.”
“Well, we change a lot as we grow older, don’t we?”
I laughed gr
uffly. “Some of us more’n others.”
I looked around: we were on a small, narrow gravel road lined with houses on both sides with the mountains rising up on our right. There were rusted out hulks of old cars in front of some of the houses, and power lines crisscrossed the road. A collarless dog, half-husky it looked like, trotted down the road away from us, its hind end on an angle following its front end. Liv set out down the road, her boots crunching in the gravel, and I kept pace beside her.
Within fifteen minutes, we were leaving the gravel behind and ascending quickly over rocky terrain, Sitka spruce towering over us, fragrant and massive; crows wheeled overhead, clicking and cawing in raucous conversation, discussing our presence with each other, alerting others ahead that we were coming.
Liv watched a crow hop and flutter from tree to tree, almost as if following us. “I’ve always been fascinated by crows,” she said.
I watched the one she was focused on. “Did you happen to toss any food aside, last time you were here?”
She frowned at me. “Um, yes, actually. I was eating a granola bar and didn’t want the last couple bites.”
“Let me guess: you saw a crow watching you, and set it down, and it got eaten.”
She nodded. “Yes. Why?”
“Well, crows are up there with dolphins and elephants when it comes to intelligence. They remember faces. Smarter than dogs, actually.”
She blinked at me in surprise. “Really?”
I nodded. “Yep. Down in Oklahoma, I’d come home from work and plop down in my easy chair and…uh, well, I’d turn on the TV. National Geographic channel, usually. Just as background noise. I watched this special on crows, and it just stuck with me.” I gestured at the crow still following us. “I’d bet dollars to donuts that that’s the crow that got your food.”
She slung her bag around to one shoulder and dug out a package of beef jerky, pinched a few pieces off of one end, and tossed them in the direction of the crow. “I wonder if I could tame one this way.”
I chuckled. “Absolutely.” I tipped my head to one side. “I mean, I don’t know about taming, exactly, but you could teach one to get pretty close. When I was a kid, Liam did that. We had this big ol’ murder of crows that lived in the woods not far from our cabin, and there was this one monster crow who liked to sit at the top of the tallest jack pine at the edge of the clearing, and it’d watch us play, and if we got too close to the edge of the woods, it’d set off an almighty racket—warnin’ its family we were comin’, I guess. Well, one day Liam got it into his fool head that he wanted that crow for a pet, and nothin’ Pa or Grandpa could say would change his mind. So he set about doing what you’re talking about—leaving food for it every day. It worked, sorta. The thing would hop down to within a hundred feet of Liam as he set out the food, which was usually bits of raw meat from a fresh kill. But that was as close as he could get it to come.”
“Still, pretty amazing, I bet.”
“Oh yeah, ’specially because that thing was damn near the size of a hawk. Big old beady black eyes, loud as anything.” I laughed, remembering. “Well, Liam was getting frustrated because he wanted to pet the damn thing. So Grandpa told him how crows love shiny things even more than they love food. So Liam went around collecting coins and bolts and anything shiny he could find, and he’d leave a few shiny things with the food. That crow went nuts for him, after that. It’d hop right up to him, take the food the second Liam set it down, eat it, take the shiny stuff, and leave.”
“Wow!” Liv exclaimed. “That’s so cool!”
“He got the thing to let him pet it, and that ain’t a word of a lie. In time, the crow started bringing Liam presents. It’d bring shiny stuff back, and once even a dead mouse it had caught. They exchanged presents.”
“That’s kind of crazy. I had no idea they were that smart.”
“Some species more than others. They can use tools, pass information down to the next generation…they mourn when one of their family dies. Pretty fascinating critters, actually.”
She smiled. “National Geographic, huh?”
I shrugged. “Somethin’ to watch.”
The hiking became a bit more strenuous, then, and I had to spare my breath for breathing. The trail twisted and turned, switched back on itself endlessly, climbing higher and higher. Soon, I was sweating and gasping, leaning on my walking stick, no longer trying to hide my limp.
Liv, of course, wasn’t breathing hard or sweating at all, and it seemed like she was just enjoying a nice easy walk in the woods—while I was huffing and puffing and dripping sweat like I was trying to climb up the sheer face of a mountain rather than a minor incline on a well-maintained trail.
I felt ashamed of myself, truth be told. Once upon a time, I could’ve carried a hundred-pound ruck on my back and all but jogged up this trail. Now, every step set my big ol’ belly jiggling and wobbling. My arms, too.
Well, pretty much everything on me jiggled and wobbled, as long as we’re talking truth.
Eventually, stubbornness and pride weren’t enough, and I knew I had to stop or risk another episode with my heart.
“Liv…” I gasped. “I need—I need a break.”
She halted, wiping a few dainty, lady-like droplets of sweat off her brow, and glanced back at me. “Oh my god, Lucas! Are you okay?” Her expression was concerned, her voice full of worry.
A downed tree lay parallel to the path, and I slumped down onto it, stretching out my bad leg and massaging it, leaning my walking stick against the log beside me. I worked on slowing my breathing, and taming the resentment that was coursing through me.
She sat beside me, taking small sips from a big pink Nalgene clipped to her backpack via a carabiner. “Lucas?”
I didn’t answer immediately, instead waiting until I could speak without gasping. “Fine…I’m fine.”
Liv glanced at me sideways. “Lucas.”
I groaned. “What?” I said with a harsh sigh.
“Tell me the truth.”
“The truth is, I’m not okay.”
“Should we go back?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m just being forced to face how badly I’ve let myself go.”
She didn’t answer for a long time, and I could tell she was wrestling with what to say, and how to say it without insulting me.
I laughed, the sound a little bitter. “Liv, just say whatever’s on your mind and quit worryin’ about how it’ll make me feel.”
“I guess I’m just wondering if…if you were in denial?” She was quiet another moment or two. “With Darren, he knew he wasn’t in the best shape. He knew he had a bad heart. He just…he thought if he stayed fairly active, it would counteract his atrocious diet. I told him otherwise, his doctor told him otherwise, but he just wouldn’t hear it. He wanted to enjoy life and, for him, that meant eating what he wanted to eat, regardless of how it affected his heart.”
“Meaning, you’re asking how it’s possible that I didn’t know how fat and out of shape I am.”
“I don’t mean—”
“Liv.” I grabbed a double handful of belly and shook it. “This ain’t somethin’ you can just pretend ain’t there.” I sighed, scrubbing my face. “I just…I guess I didn’t care. It didn’t matter.”
“But, Lucas…you’re…you’re essentially dying.”
I cackled. “Not essentially, babe. Reality—here and now, inescapable, undeniable.”
“The heart attack?”
I nodded. “That was part of it.”
“The car wreck?”
I nodded again, staring at the tree line, the blue sky beyond, and flexed my leg, testing the joint and the ache. “I woke up in the hospital, alive, and knew I’d only just barely escaped death…a second time. The first time, the heart attack, the fact that I survived it was…I don’t want to say blind luck, but something very much like it. I shouldn’t have survived it, but I did. Took a while to recover from the surgery. Forced me to retire early, because I just needed too much time off
to recover, and I’d worked there nearly forty years anyway.”
“What did you do?”
I shrugged, waved a hand. “Worked on the line in a manufacturing plant. Nothing super inspiring. It was just a job to pay the bills, honestly. I didn’t hate it, but it wasn’t nothin’ I chose out of passion for the career. I just sorted of ended up there and never left.”
“How do you mean, you just ended up there?” she asked, tilting her head to one side inquisitively.
“No end to your questions, huh?” I laughed. “Eh, you know, the way life does.”
She smiled at me. “I’m curious—I don’t mean to pry.”
I sighed. “I guess I’m just not used to…well, to anyone caring.”
She frowned. “Lucas, that’s…that’s awful.”
“I mean, my boys love me, but they’re my sons, you know? Why should they care to ask about all this? They got their own lives to figure out, and they had all they could handle keeping my drunk ass out of trouble.” I hissed, realizing what I’d just said. “Fuck. I…I mean—”
Her expression softened, turned compassionate—rather than judgmental. “Lucas, you have to know I’ve at least suspected that you’re...um…”
“An alcoholic,” I finished for her.
She nodded. “Yeah.” Her eyes pierced mine, scrutinizing. “Are you…are you in treatment of any kind?”
I fished my year coin out of my pocket and handed it to her. “Clean a year. Go to AA meetings once or twice a month, just to stay accountable.”
She nodded, examining the coin before handing it back, not looking at me, head down. “That’s good.”
I eyed her. “Don’t wimp out on me, now, Liv.”
Her head whipped up, eyes lasering on mine. “I’m not wimping out, I’m…piecing things together.”
“Piecing what together?”
“What you’ve told me, and what you haven’t.” She paused. “So the wreck…”
I nodded. “I was wasted,” I admitted, voice low and tense. “I…well, it’s a long fuckin’ story. And, if you want to talk about time sober, I was actually sober almost a year, and then I relapsed. Been another year. So two, total, just with a bit of a fuckup in there.” I growled. “One bad trip down memory lane was all it took to put me right back at the bottom of the bottle, and now…” I trailed off.
Badd Daddy (The Badd Brothers Book 12) Page 9