He must know that he circles my thoughts almost every minute of the day, tearing my conscience apart.
Desperate to change the topic, I muster up a smile as I observe his plate. “How’s your breakfast?”
“It’s great, thanks…” He pauses, then puts his fork down, resting his elbows on the edge of the table. “This confusion—”
“I don’t want to talk about it. At least, just not now.”
He doesn’t force another word, respecting my decision to no longer entertain this topic. We eat the remainder of our food in silence until Oliver suggests we leave, so he can attend his appointment he has across town. I don’t ask any further details while we walk back to the house silently.
“Oliver?” I call, waiting for him to turn around. “Just give me time, okay? I need to process all this.”
His soft lips stretch into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. They’re lit with sadness, and no doubt pity, because he can’t grasp the way I live my life and the feeling of entrapment.
For a few moments, I stare at him, almost sure his expression mirrors mine. I want to ask him to stay, come inside and sit with me. But I know that would be asking for something only to satisfy my needs. Play the selfish card because he has somewhere important to be, and I want him to put me first.
I want anyone to put me first.
Including myself.
Oliver disappears around the corner without a single word, and once again, I’m alone.
I close the door behind me, resting against it while I try to come to terms with what just happened. Inside my head, I can’t comprehend my feelings toward Oliver. Sexual attraction is one thing, but the way he makes me feel in his presence—alive and worthy of this life—I just can’t, no matter how much I try, get my head around those thoughts.
My heart, on the other hand, knows what the hell is happening, waving red flags at me to walk away now before it gets too messy.
I wrack my brain trying to remember when I last felt this way. It wasn’t with Pierce Worthington in senior high when I lost my virginity to him on prom night at The Ritz-Carlton, nor was it with William Chesterfield in college during our eight-month relationship.
And it isn’t with Sebastian King.
It is now, with the arrogant Aussie next door.
After a long shower, desperate to rid my thoughts and gain some clarity on the situation, I settle myself in the kitchen with a strong coffee and my new book. I opt for reading non-fiction—a simple way to steer my brain toward something educational.
There’s a gentle knock on my door breaking my concentration. Aubrey strolls in, dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a ripped tee, carrying a basket of muffins.
“Good morning, how are we today?”
“Good,” I answer, eyeing her cautiously. “What’s with the muffins?”
“I just thought they would be nice.”
“Thank you.”
“All right…” She states, placing them down on the table and sliding into a chair. “I need a huge favor.”
Of course, never take muffins from a neighbor without a string attached.
“Spill…”
“It’s Chance’s and my anniversary. I’ve planned a night away, and Adele was supposed to babysit, but she’s got food poisoning. If I cancel, it’s non-refundable.”
“You want me to babysit? At your place?”
“Pretty please? Don’t worry about Olly, he’s out tonight. He said he wouldn’t be home until tomorrow.”
The disappointment stabbed me like a thousand knives. And just like that, the man who I thought I knew has become a complete stranger once again. Oliver never mentioned going out, let alone overnight. He has a whole other life which I know nothing about. Surely, it involves a woman. We are nothing. He’s certainly not tied to me whatsoever.
“Sure, I can take care of CJ.” I smile, hiding my humiliation. “Go. Enjoy yourself and have copious amounts of sex making every woman in the rooms surrounding yours jealous.”
Aubrey winks, laughing. “That’s the plan.”
Oliver
“I’d like to refer you to a specialist in Colorado.”
Dr. Wheeler slides over a piece of paper with some contact details.
“He’s an old college friend of mine, but I can speak to him privately and organize for you to see him as soon as you can get there.”
It isn’t the news I was hoping for. As I sit here, squirming in this uncomfortable chair and listening to Dr. Wheeler, I try my best to ignore the nagging voice inside my head telling me the fight is over.
I am naïve to think my scans would come back positive, and straight off the bat he would tell me I could play again.
It takes me a moment to process and accept another roadblock in the journey of finding my way back to playing soccer. With my posture fallen and mood souring by the minute, I leave Dr. Wheeler’s office to pull out my phone, needing to hear her voice at this very moment.
“Olly?”
“Hey, Ma.”
I miss her so much, more than I care to admit. Being here feels so far away from home and the sound of her voice reminds me of that.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, worried. “It’s… oh, wait a minute, your day, our night.”
“Just wanted to check in. How are things back home?”
“Pa just installed a new aviary out the back, which means he spends all his time trying to find exotic birds online. Can you remind me why I married such a man?”
I can’t help but smile. Pa is quirky that way, and no doubt depleting their retirement fund on some bird from Africa which could repeat the alphabet as well as hum to classical music.
“And you, Ma?”
“I’m missing you, kid. That’s for sure.”
“Miss you, too, Ma.” I let out a sigh and proceed to tell her about the appointment.
My parents have been by my side every step of the way. Ever since I could remember, they supported my desire to play soccer. When I was twelve years old, I tried out
