Totaled (10 page)

Both of the men just looked at me with annoyed expressions, obviously doubting my every word. I stomped down the hallway towards the open gym area to look myself. I heard the officers follow me away from the office.

“Oh, you did?” the more arrogant officer scoffed, challenging me. “You took him down? You and all your 150 pounds? Just like that, huh? You just felt a tap on your shoulder, turned around, and went all Chuck Norris on some stranger?” the asshole questioned with a smug smirk. “Are there any video cameras in or around the gym that we could take a look at to verify footage of these claims?”

I was half pissed, half ashamed, and totally embarrassed. I had to get my shit together. If the guy is gone, what the hell am I supposed to tell my father when someone mentions something to him? Fernandina is all about the grapevine. “We have one camera posted at the front and back doors, but nothing inside,” I replied. “I’ll check and pull the tapes from the office.”

The officers followed me back into the office and sat down, waiting on me. I opened a bureau behind the desk with my key, which housed the two digital boxes that recorded security footage on a six hour loop. I pulled the footage reel from the front door camera first. I turned the knob to rewind the tape. I didn’t even get beyond two hours when we saw him. A giant of a man showed up at the front door of the gym at 6:04 am. You could tell how big he was even by the overhead footage. His chest and shoulders were wide and built, his biceps bulging. You could see that his thighs were sculpted under his jeans. And he was handsome. Even the grainy, pixelated security camera captured his strong, masculine facial features. We watched him approach the front door confidently. He knocked, waited, knocked again, waited some more, and then turned to leave. But then he stopped, turned and faced the door again, and opened it. He just opened the door and walked right in.
What the hell? That door should’ve been locked!

“So, where’s the footage of a would-be attacker breaking in?” Officer Asshat asked curtly.

“I-I had no idea the door was open. It shouldn’t have been open. We don’t open until eight. I came in the back door and didn’t open that door. I never even checked it.” I spoke in a low, apologetic voice, almost talking to myself. I couldn’t believe that I freaked out on some poor guy who was obviously not there to attack me, and essentially never even touched me other than to try to get my attention. Now I had Officer Prick McPrickington in my office questioning me when he should be out actually catching criminals. And where did he go? He just disappeared after I went ballistic on his face and groin. I fast forwarded the footage until it showed the man hobbling out of the front door, his left hand covering his nose, and walking over to what appeared to be a dark colored SUV.
Mother of God. I am ridiculous.

We couldn’t see clearly enough from the security footage to tell what his plate number was. The officers recorded my statement and assured me that they would check the local hospital for any injured men matching his description. I couldn’t exactly insist on pressing charges against someone who walked into an open door, tapped me on the shoulder, and then received the wrong end of my fist, knee, and foot.
Way to go, Bree.

Just as the officers were leaving, Liam walked in. “What’s going on? Are you in some kind of trouble?” he asked.

Oh shit. I never called Liam.
“No. I’m okay. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I’ve had a...well, I’ve had an interesting morning,” I replied, flustered.

I told Liam the whole story. Every single humiliating detail. He was shocked and proud that I actually attacked the guy and successfully took him down. His face turned sour when I told him that the guy came in the front door. He lowered his head, not meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Bree,” he said in a low, muffled tone. “I think that was my fault. I was the last one to leave the gym yesterday. I forgot to check the locks. Oh man, I feel bad. You could’ve been really hurt.”

“It’s okay, Liam.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed. “I’m not mad. I’m just so embarrassed. And confused. And I feel awful for this guy. I’m pretty sure he left here hurt. I mean, he looked huge and muscular, he was probably a fighter or someone coming to ask about working out at the gym. I didn’t exactly provide the best customer service,” I said with a pathetic chuckle. “I was just so lost in my own world and listening to my music that I was surprised by someone behind me and I freaked out.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Liam tried to reassure me. “I mean, he walked out of here and drove away okay. If he’s a fighter, he’s tough.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “I guess he’ll survive with a broken nose and bruised balls.”

Chapter Ten

DREW

I hightailed it out of there as fast as my truck would take me.
What the fuck just happened?
My nose was throbbing and my balls were slowly coming back down from being kicked into my throat. My voice would probably sound like a woman’s if I tried to say anything out loud right now. At a stoplight, I flipped down my visor, flipping the mirror open to look at my face. Realizing that I probably needed a little medical attention, I pulled over to get a better look.

Jesus, in my last ten fights, my face hasn’t looked this rough afterwards.

Then again, I didn’t make it a habit of allowing myself to get hit too much either. But what was I supposed to do? I wasn’t in fight mode, it all happened so fast, and I definitely didn’t expect for little Miss Hot Ass to go ape shit crazy on me. And I don’t care what happens, I will never hit a woman, ever!

I pulled into a drugstore parking lot that was catty corner from where I was stopped across the street and walked in, well aware of what I looked like. I found the first aid section and loaded up my basket with everything I needed—antiseptic wash to clean everything, butterfly bandages and antibiotic ointment for the gash over my left eyebrow, gauze 2 x 2s for my still bleeding nose, some ibuprofen, and a disposable ice pack.

The young girl at the checkout counter, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, looked me up and down. She just stood there looking at me. For at least a good, full minute, just stared. “Your nose is broken, ya know,” she said with a mousey voice in between smacking her gum like an annoying twelve year old.

“Yeah, I know.”

“And it’s still bleeding too.”

“Yeah, I got it. That’s why I need all of this stuff. Can you just ring me up please?” I asked, getting impatient. I was borderline nauseated from the throbbing in my head and didn’t have time for this teenager’s shit.

“You really should get some tampons,” she suggested.

“I’m not on my fucking period. I have a broken nose!” I said, louder than I realized. I looked around me, embarrassed, but thankfully no one else was in the store. “Sorry, I just—look, can I just pay for this stuff and use your bathroom, please?”

She walked from behind the counter, right past me, leaving me standing there wondering what the hell she was doing now. She walked three or four aisles down and paused for a second, looking for something, and grabbed a box. She brought it up to the counter and scanned it, charging me. I picked it up and looked at the box. Unscented super absorbency tampons.

“And why do I need these?” I asked her.

“You put one up each nostril. They’re the perfect fit and made of tightly wound cotton. They’re invented to absorb blood. They make way more sense than gauze pads. I grew up with two brothers that were always getting nosebleeds,” she explained.

Is this chick serious?

“Hmph. Tampons, huh? I wouldn’t have ever thought of that. Thanks,” I said sincerely.

I paid for my items with my debit card and walked with my bag to the back of the store where the sign that read “Restrooms” hung. Careful to not get any in my actual eye, I dabbed a gauze pad soaked in the antiseptic liquid over the cut and placed two butterfly bandages over the slice in my skin, closing up the wound as best as I could with my actual eyebrow in the way. I tried to wash my face around my nose with paper towels but any little touch near my nose sent sharp pains straight into my brain. It fucking hurt. There was no way in hell I could pinch it to try to stop the bleeding. I opened the box of tampons and pulled two out. Not knowing how the hell they worked, I dropped the first one on the nasty floor when I ripped the plastic off and it flung out. Being more careful with the next one, I pulled it out to find some plastic tube resembling a missile with a string hanging off of it. I wasn’t a complete idiot, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how to get the cotton part out of the plastic tube. Just as I was contemplating biting into the damn thing, a knock sounded on the door.

“You doing okay in there? Need any help?”

It was the checkout girl. I opened the door hastily and shoved the tampon in her face. “How in the hell do you work this thing?” I yelled.

She giggled and took in into her hand. Placing her pointer finger over the small end of the tube and holding onto the center of it with her thumb and middle finger, she pushed down with her pointer finger, making the smaller cylinder go into the larger part of the cylinder, forcing the cotton out of the tip. “Rocket science!” she crowed.

Smart aleck little shit.

She unwrapped the next one, pushed the cotton out, and handed it to me. I gently and painfully placed each one in my nostrils, just as she instructed, as far as they would go in. I looked and felt ridiculous. I thanked her and left the store, silently praying that no one would see me in this awkward tampon-faced state.

After an hour or so of me just basically driving around scoping out the small town, I removed the tampons from my nose and wrapped them up in one of the plastic shopping bags to throw away later. The disposable ice pack that I had cracked upon leaving the store was no longer cold, so I put that in the bag too. I looked at my nose in the mirror and it actually looked much better. The swelling had gone down a little and I didn’t look half as bad.

I grabbed a sandwich from a drive thru and finally made my way to the ocean. Shifting my truck into park in an empty beach access lot, I took a deep breath in, closed my eyes, and slowly exhaled. I had no idea where I was, but it already felt right. I turned off the car, and started walking towards the sand, fast food bag in tow. The second I laid eyes on the horizon, my heart skipped a beat. Almost tripping over my own feet, I willed my body forward, closer and closer to the beach. It was so loud but so serene at the same time. Waves crashing, seagulls squawking, a salty sea breeze blowing in my face, the sand granules crunching under my feet. It was all just perfection. I stood as still as possible, breathing it all in. I immersed myself in my surroundings and was completely overwhelmed by the internal storm of emotions all colliding at once. I exhaled and felt my body release. It felt good. Great, in fact.

Looking around, I saw nothing and everything at the same time.

I was home.

Chapter Eleven

BREE

It didn’t take long for my father to storm into the office demanding an explanation of why in God’s name the cops were at
his
gym.

“Jesus Christ, Brianne! You scared me half to death with this shit. I got four calls straight away this morning before I even could piss and wipe the crust outta my eyes, and no less than ten messages are still on the phone!” he screamed. “What in the hell have you gotten us into now?”

Shaking my head back and forth was all I could manage to do as he was carrying on. There were no words. I loved this man as much as anyone could or should love their father but was he seriously standing in front of me, yelling at the top of his lungs at
me
like I was a nine-year-old pipsqueak who just broke some family heirloom? My trembling hands were sweating under the desk, my body still shaking as I came down from all of the adrenaline of the morning’s events, and at any moment I felt like I would lose my final resolve and burst into tears. Yet this big Irish idiot was standing here shouting at me.

“ENOUGH!” I squawked as I stood and pounded my tightly closed fists on the desk. “I
refuse
to sit here another second and let you yell at me! I have had the shittiest morning in all of the history of shitty mornings and I don’t need any of your
shit
to pile on top of it!”

“You’ll watch your tone with me, young lady,” he responded, looking shocked at my outburst.

“And you’ll watch me walking out of here! Do. Not. Call. Me,” I said, staring directly into his bloodshot eyes. “I’m off today!” I grabbed my bag, turning to leave. “By the way, I’m OKAY!” I called over my shoulder. I made my way out of the office and down the hallway, not turning my head even though I heard my father yelling after me.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Brianne Murphy!”

“You get your ass back here and tell me what the hell happened!”

“What has gotten into you?”

“Bree!”

The second the fresh air hit my face, I exhaled the breath that I didn’t even realize I was holding. I felt instantly better, like I’d been trapped underwater and was suddenly able to surface and gasp for life again.

Water.

That’s what I need.

I need the ocean.

***

DREW

Once I made up my mind about something, it might as well be written in stone. I had never been so sure about anything in all of my life. I left the beach, got into my car, and headed north, driving slowly along Ocean Avenue and eventually onto North Fletcher. Keeping my eyes peeled, I spotted a “For Rent” sign posted in front of a beautiful wood-shingled beachfront house. I couldn’t grab my cell phone quick enough, dialing the number before I even knew what I was going to say.

A woman answered after just two rings, spouting the name of some real estate company and her name, both of which I completely missed. I told her that I was in need of a rental home as soon as possible, rattled off the address, and said I was interested in seeing the house today. She laughed, asked me a few questions and agreed to meet me in an hour. Perfect! I drove to town and pulled into the first bank I found. After jumping through some bullshit formality hoops and autographing some “necessary” paperwork, I had transferred a significant amount of money into my new account and pulled out a bank bag full of cash.
Time to go to work and get shit done
.