Picture Perfect (Butler Island) (22 page)

“Everything alright?” Grant finally
asked.

“It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit—what’s up?”

Ty hesitated for a few long beats.
“Just got into it with Liv.”

Grant sat back down on the edge of
the bench and leaned his forearms on his knees. “About…?”

“Larry was supposed to cover my shift
tonight, but his wife got called in at the hospital. Apparently there’s a
shortage of nurses”, he explained wryly. “I cleared it with Chief Handler and
then told Liv she’d have to bunk here tonight… Let’s just say she didn’t take
the news very well.”

“Well, in her defense, she’s a grown
woman—capable of making her own decisions.”

Ty slammed his hand on the stop
button, abruptly ending his leisurely run, and then leapt off the treadmill.
“Yeah, speaking of
‘decisions’
, whose idea was it to sneak behind my
back a begin dating my sister?

Grant stood from the bench and
watched as Ty advanced toward him. “It wasn’t like that—”

“Really?” he questioned as he invaded
Grant’s personal space. “You don’t have the best reputation with women, bro.”
To give his next point emphasis, he pointed his index finger and jabbed it into
Grant’s sternum. “You’re
exactly
the kind of guy she doesn’t need in her
life!”

Suppressing the urge to ram his fist
down Ty’s throat, he inhaled a deep cleansing breath. “Again, it wasn’t like
that. We—”

“So you’re gonna stand here and deny
that you fucked my little sister…?” Ty watched as Grant looked away. Of course
he wasn’t going to deny it—he was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar. “Yeah…
that’s what I figured…” Ty took a step back and then turned to walk away.

“She’s not just another girl, Ty…
She’s
different.”

With his back still turned, Ty shoved
his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I know. She’s had one hell of a life—endured
more tragedy in twenty-seven years than most folks experience in a lifetime.
She’s
very different…”

“So, what about
tonight?” Grant asked curiously.

Finally turning around to face him,
he answered, “What about it?”

Grant wrapped the hand towel around
his neck and tugged on the ends. “Well, she doesn’t want to sleep here at the
station and we both agree she shouldn’t be alone… She can stay with me
tonight—”

“Like hell she will!”

“Look, I know you’re upset with me
right now, but—”

“Upset? No, I’m not upset—
I’m
fucking pissed!”

Grant threw his hands up in
surrender. “Fine—you’re
‘fucking pissed’
at me. But this isn’t about you
or me… It’s about Olivia and keeping her safe.” He observed his best friend:
his clenched jaw and intense glare reflected anger, betrayal, contempt.

Ty ran his hand through his hair and
replied through clenched teeth. “Fine. But do me a favor: keep your dick in
your pants…”

CHAPTER 18

“You can put your bag in the last
bedroom on the left”, Grant said as he pointed down the hall. He’d made a brief
pit stop at Olivia’s after leaving the fire station to allow her the
opportunity to pack an overnight bag. And then had set his sights on spending
the evening alone with the woman he loved.

Olivia trekked down the hall and
entered the last bedroom on the left…

Grant’s room.

 The hardwood floor creaked beneath
her feet as she drifted toward the night stand. Setting her bag on the floor,
her eyes skimmed the room. The walls were painted a deep blue-gray: the color
of the sky just before a storm. The bed was covered in a crisp white comforter
and on the opposite wall, a sliding glass door opened to the expansive deck.

It looked like a nautical paradise…
Clean lines. No clutter—just the essentials. Her lips tilted in a smile. Waking
up to this view would be conducive to her recovery—she just prayed that when
her head finally reached the pillow, the serene environment would protect her
from her hellish nightmares…

Grant stood in the kitchen chopping
vegetables to toss into the stir fry he’d quickly thrown together, his mind
steadily focused on the woman he’d sent to his bedroom. It felt good to have
her here—like her presence filled the emptiness in his house.

 
In his life.

Before he could delve into the
seriousness of his feelings, the beautiful “missing link” emerged from the hall
and joined him in the kitchen.

“Whatcha makin’?”

“Chicken stir fry. Hope you’re
hungry.”

“Starving.”

Grant spooned rice into two bowls and
topped it with the spicy chicken and vegetable mixture and then motioned for
her to step onto the deck. He followed behind, Dexter mirroring his movement,
ready to catch a bite with his salivating mouth in the event that a piece of
chicken spilled over the edges.

“Wow, this looks delicious!” She
stated. “My compliments to the chef!”

“Thanks.”

“So, I’m curious. How
did
you
manage to convince Ty that staying here was a good arrangement?”

Grant shrugged his shoulders, hoping
he appeared composed; his confrontation with Ty had been anything but calm. “It
wasn’t that difficult, really. He couldn’t leave the fire station tonight; you
refused to stay there; I offered a solution.”

“Yes, but—”

“We both have one common goal: your
safety”, he said directly. She winced at his surly tone and he immediately felt
like an ass. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound so—”

“Harsh?”

“Yeah, and rude…”

There was an awkward moment of
silence between them before she finally spoke again. “So I’m here because you
feel guilty about what happened to me?—is that it?”

Grant dropped his fork in his bowl
and intertwined their fingers. How did he reassure the woman he’d fallen for
how much he cared without mentioning the three words on the tip of his tongue?
“You’re here because I
want
you to be… Please tell me you believe that.”

“I do now”, she whispered.

The remainder of dinner felt more
comfortable, their conversation casual and lighthearted compared to their
earlier discussion. He’d even managed to
make
her laugh a bit, the sound reverberating through
him like an elaborate
symphony.

After their bowls were emptied they
retreated back to the kitchen. Olivia placed her dish in the sink and then
began gathering the wok and cutting board he’d used to prepare their meal.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Cleanin’ the kitchen.”

“The hell you are!” he said as he
retrieved the wok from her grasp.

“C’mon, Grant,
I’m not helpless!” She explained.

“I never said you were.”

Olivia crossed her arms and tilted
her chin up to look at him. “Not directly, but that’s what you’re implying…
C’mon, it’s the least I can do for all you’ve done for me already.”

Grant placed the wok in the sink and
then reached for her. Giving in to his embrace, Olivia nestled against him,
resting her forehead against his solid chest.

 After placing a kiss on the top of
her head, he tilted her chin with his fingertips. “I’ve got this. Why don’t you
take a shower, slip into something a little more comfortable and then meet me
on the couch. I’ll open a bottle of wine and we can watch a movie.”

“Okay”, she managed, just above a
whisper.

Drifting down the hall, Olivia
entered the bedroom and rummaged through her bag for her toiletries. Clutching
the various bottles against her body, she toddled toward the bathroom and
slowly removed her clothes.

Since her attack, she’d purposely
refrained from looking at herself, her blemished skin a painful reminder of
that horrific night. But standing in front of the full-length mirror attached
to the back of the bathroom door, she allowed herself a peek. The bruises on
her face, wrists, and torso had faded into a subtle shade of yellow-green and
the cuts she’d sustained on her hands and knees were on the mend.

She barely recognized the woman
staring back at her. She was alone—she didn’t have to pretend. The expression
on her face and the insecure gleam in her eyes frightened her.

 Unable to view the spiritless form
before her any longer, she stepped into the shower and drew the curtain. She
stood underneath the blazing liquid, washing her hair and then her body. She
scoured her skin until her flesh appeared pink, felt raw. But no matter how
diligently she scrubbed, she couldn’t cleanse her mind.

The masked ravager lurked in every
dark corner of her conscious: stealing her soul, looting her liveliness,
raiding her resolve. How had she managed to end up here again? How could she
have allowed vulnerability to invade her being?

She barely felt the sting of
scorching water streaming down her tender flesh as she rinsed the suds from her
body, barely recalled the moment scalding moisture mingled with her tears. Overwhelmed
with fear and despair, she leaned her back against the wall and slowly slid
down until she sat on the floor of the tub, knees to her chest. Hugging her
legs, she held on as the dam of emotions burst inside her. Sealed in a sauna,
sheltered from prying eyes, she surrendered.

Finally finished in the kitchen, he
opened a bottle of merlot and filled two glasses before replacing the cork. He
probably should’ve told Olivia the truth: Ty knew about their relationship and
needless to say, he wasn’t thrilled. But Grant didn’t want to upset her. She
had enough worries, the last thing she’d needed was another burden to shoulder.

He wanted to protect her—not just
from the maniac that’d attacked her—but from every source of anguish
threatening her peace of mind. He’d gladly endure the physical and emotional
pain she’d suffered if—

—Grant looked at his watch. It’d been
thirty minutes since she’d disappeared from the kitchen to take a shower.
Marching down the hall, he entered his bedroom and heard the water still
running in the bathroom. As he journeyed further into his room, he heard
something else, too:
the unmistakable sound of a
grief-stricken woman,
sobbing.

“Olivia…? Everything alright…?” he
called out. When there was no response, he turned the knob and gently nudged
the door open. The sound of her sobs echoed against the walls of the small
room, piercing his heart, infuriating his mind.

Through the transparent vinyl shower
curtain, he saw her. “Livvy, baby”, he uttered as he rushed toward the
silhouette huddled on the floor of the bathtub. In one smooth motion, he
quickly shoved the curtain out of his way and turned off the water.

The image of this beautiful woman
huddled into a ball, arms wrapped around her legs, head resting on her knees,
shoulders heaving as she released her tears, would forever be etched in his
memory.

Despair had ravaged her so
completely, she hadn’t realized he was hovering above her until she felt his
warm hands under her arms, lifting her to her feet.

“Damn it, Livvy!—you feel like an ice
cube!” He realized that she’d been so blindsided by her emotions that she’d
collapsed onto the floor of the tub and wept until the searing water had turned
frigid, her mind in such turmoil, she hadn’t noticed.

Reaching for a towel, he swaddled her
in it and then swept her shivering body into his arms. Placing her on the edge
of his bed, he knelt in front of her.

She was breaking his heart.

Grant peered into her red swollen
eyes and gently brushed his knuckles against her bruised cheek. “Livvy, baby,
talk to me…”

“I’m so sorry”, she finally
whispered.

“Baby, you have nothing to be sorry
about… It’s okay to cry.”

Olivia shook her head in
disagreement.
She
didn’t cry
—at least not in front of anyone.
Tears were meant to be shed in private. “No, it’s not—it’s weak.”

“Is that what you think?” he asked in
disbelief. “Livvy, you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met. You’ve been
through hell the last ten days. Crying
isn’t
a sign of weakness—hell,
I’d be worried if you didn’t! Don’t shut me out.
Talk to me…”

Olivia hesitated at first; she wasn’t
accustomed to sharing her feelings—her fears. But somehow at that moment,
she
felt safe.
“I can’t get the image of him out of my head: the weight of him
sittin’ on me, his grasp around my wrists, the smell of whiskey on his breath…”
Olivia closed her eyes as a single tear descended down her bruised cheek.

 “Make me forget, Grant”, she uttered
softly.

Releasing the towel, it settled into
a puddle around her waist and with both hands suddenly free, she cupped his
face. She inched forward until she felt the warmth of his mouth against her icy
lips.