“Yeah?”
“I can’t wait to meet Genevieve one day. The girl you chose must be amazing. I really hope she appreciates what she has.”
I force a smile. “Thanks, Camille. I hope you get to meet her too.”
“Ollie?”
I gasp awake, groaning at the sharp pain in my back. Disoriented, I glance around, surprised at my strange surroundings. Am I in a stairwell? Wait, my stairwell? I push away from the wall and turn toward the voice, squinting up at the bright light streaming in from the open door above me.
“Shit, man,” Sandy mutters, lowering to where I’m wedged against the wall on the top step. He grips my arm, shoving his other under my shoulders to help me up. My sore muscles scream in agony as he tries to lift me from the floor. I do my best to help him, but my knee does me no favors after the long day of rehab, trauma of a fight, and punishment of my awkward position on the step.
“What time is it?” I mumble as we limp downstairs.
“One AM. When I never heard from you, I came to check and make sure you didn’t break a hole through my foundation or something. Didn’t expect this, though. Damn, kid. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
I shake my head. “Genevieve,” I force out, but there’s no fire in my voice anymore. She’s gone. Wait. No. I hurt her. She doesn’t want me. Or. Was it all a dream?
“She’s fine, Ollie. I saw it on the news. Just a concussion and sprained ankle. She’s going to be okay.”
The air immediately lifts around me. “Thank god.” I can actually breathe again. My own body may not have fared as well, however, as we inch back down to my apartment.
“Damn it, kid. Why’d you have to fight me so hard?”
I shrug, but even that hurts. I suppress a groan with each step, refusing to let on how much I’m hurting. Sandy shakes his head as if he knows anyway.
“I’m messaging Carlos and telling him you’ll be late tomorrow. Let’s aim for an after-lunch session and keep it short. It’s Sunday anyway.”
“No,” I grunt as we finally reach the landing in my kitchen. “I need to train.”
“You need to fucking rest and get your head on straight. That’s what you need to do. Look, I get that you’re going through hell right now, but you can’t take your emotional shit out on your body, okay? Get some rest and deal with the breakup mess tomorrow.”
My gaze shoots to him in alarm. “The breakup mess?”
His eyes narrow at me. “Ah fuck. Did you hit your head too?”
I shake it and straighten, ignoring the stiffness in my body. “What mess? Wait, what breakup? What are you talking about?”
“Shit, Ollie. Don’t do this to me. Or yourself.”
Still, I have no clue what he’s talking about. She’s mad, sure. I bailed on her. She fell. She’s hurt. Her mom is pissed. But a public breakup?
Sandy sighs and leads me to the couch. He motions for me to sit, but I don’t want to sit. There’s no sitting when you hit rock bottom and still your life continues to spiral.
“Sit,” he snaps. “Don’t make me make you. You know I will.”
I curse and perch on the edge of the cushion, pulling my phone from my pocket. I hate that internet gossip has become my news source lately, but I’m not sure what other choice I have. No one else seems willing to keep me informed. I avoid the string of unread texts from Camille and others, knowing they’ll only bring more questions.
It’s an easy search. Too easy, and the latest update posted just minutes ago. I sink into the cushion, suddenly crushed under the weight of it all.
CHAPTER 16
Wake up, it’s time
The violent tide
Has made you mine
Through the tears we cry
Over truth and lies
These tragic ties
Have bound our lives
To survive
Another rise
Of the violent tide
So wake up, it’s time
GENEVIEVE
“Hadley?” I groan at the sharp pain in my ankle. The one in my head is worse. They promised the painkillers would last through the night. Liars. I was lucky, they said. I’ll be back on my feet in a couple of weeks and make a full recovery. Lucky… told you they’re liars. Is it weird I had to fake a smile at that? That I was disappointed I didn’t get hurt worse than I did? There was a split second as I was falling that the fear blossomed into relief. My mother’s manic reassurance when I woke in the hospital erased all hope and sent me back to the verge of panic. Funny reaction to news that you were “lucky.”
“Where’s my phone? Has Oliver called?” I ask.
Did Hadley just wince? “He… Um, your mom has your phone. She’s been handling your messages.”
“My mom?” Blood drains from my face. I feel it pool in my stomach and slosh around in nauseous waves. “Hadley—”
She shakes her head, cutting me off. “Don’t. You focus on you. Get better. Let me and the team deal with the press.”
“Press?” I groan again and drop back to the pillow of this stupid hospital bed. I told them I’m fine, but because of the head injury they wanted to keep me for observation until morning. Then again, maybe I’m not fine. The blood pressure monitor certainly doesn’t think so at the moment.
“What are they saying?” I ask in as calm a voice as I can manage. Gosh, I want Oliver right now. Somehow, I think it’d all be okay if he were here, sitting in that chair currently occupied by my assistant. Or better yet, cuddled up with me. I almost laugh at the thought of his big body crammed next to me on this tiny bed. Almost. I can’t laugh when he’s not here. When my head pounds and my ankle throbs and no one seems willing to tell me what the heck is going on.
“Just rest,” Hadley says gently. “Nothing we can’t deal with
