Broken Hero

Besides, I’m not going to be weak anymore. I was in the past, but that Lucy is gone. That was the whole point of coming to Claremont.

A new me and a new beginning.

Oliver has to talk to me.

I’ll make him.

“Ow,” my client says. “I know I asked for a sports massage, but is it possible to lessen the pressure a bit?”

I loosen my death grip on him. “I’m so sorry, sir. I hope it didn’t hurt too much.”

He gives a weak laugh. “Not to worry. I know I abuse my poor back, and I guess this is penance.”

I smooth across the area I’d assaulted too roughly. “Maybe, but it should never be too painful. Thank you for telling me.”

I finish the massage with the utmost care. My anger is tightly leashed, locked down and controlled under the surface. I can’t let my emotions influence my work. No-not my emotions. Oliver.

I wave goodbye to the client and set about cleaning the studio. I polish a pair of brass candleholders. I clean the glass doors to the shower. I re-fold every single towel.

When I’ve stayed for more than an hour past the end of my shift, I lock the door to the spa behind me. It’s time to test a little theory. Will the ranch owner appear when he thinks I’m gone?

Something tells me he will.

I stroll through the stables and stop to stay hi to the horses. Ginger whinnies loudly and tosses her dark mane.

“Shh, baby, you’re alright.” I run a hand over her soft muzzle. “I’ve missed you. We had fun the other week.”

She snorts and puts her head against my shoulder. “Yes, you’re a pretty girl, aren’t you? But of course, you already know that.”

I stroke the side of her face for a long while, breathing in the familiar scent. There used to be a time when this was a major part of my life. It feels like forever ago, a different lifetime. A different Lucy. Someone much younger, a past version of myself. But maybe it’s someone I’m willing to get to know again.

Her ears prick at the familiar sound of a large pick-up truck parking outside.

“Ah,” I tell Ginger. “Is that your elusive owner? I think it might be.”

I give her a final pat and head towards the edge of the barn, peeking around the edge. Oliver has parked right next to the entrance. A stack of wooden beams are piled up high on the back of his truck.

Seeing him again is like a punch to the gut. The last time I saw him, he had been large and golden and naked on my bed, his eyes soft and his hair tousled.

This time he’s sweaty. His flannel button-down is rolled up at the elbows, tan forearms exposed in all their glory. His hair is hidden beneath a cap, as usual. He grabs one of the large beams. It looks heavy, but he just slings it over his shoulder and begins unloading them one by one.

His face is the same hard, neutral mask I’ve come to expect. There’s no hint of the man who kissed me, who held me, who made love to me only days prior.

No, I correct myself. Not made love. It’s clear he didn’t see it that way, not if he’s been avoiding me. Used and discarded.

I square my shoulders and head out. I refuse to be intimidated anymore. He catches sight of me and his eyes narrow. “Lucy.”

“Hi, Oliver. What’s up?”

He grabs another giant beam. “Working.”

His tone is civil, bordering on the unkind. What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment? “I haven’t seen you around much.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Busy avoiding me?”

His eyes find mine immediately. They’re guarded, but he says nothing, just watches me. It’s clear he’s not going to answer my question.

“Can’t we at least be civil about what happened?”

He picks up another beam calmly, his face unreadable. “And what happened exactly?”

“We slept together!”

“Oh, that. I remember.”

It feels like a slap. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Take your pick.”

“So now you’re just going to ignore me? I didn’t peg you as a coward, Oliver.”

Angry eyes meet my own. “I’m giving us both space.”

“This is what you call space? Look, I know that you probably think it was unprofessional, and it’s fine if you… if you regret it, but we have to co-exist.”

“I’m co-existing,” he says, and suddenly his tone isn’t calm at all. It’s heated. “That’s what I’ve been doing this week. Co-existing.”

I snort. “This isn’t peaceful co-existence. If it is, it’s certainly not something I can do forever.”

“Forever? We both know you’ll be here a lot shorter than that.”

He doesn’t even look at me when he says it, his back turned to me as he grabs another beam. For a long moment, all I can do is stare at him. The coldness, the aloofness-I’d been so sure it was just a facade.

But maybe it’s just him.

“You’re an asshole, Oliver. Do you know that? I heard… never mind.” To my utter mortification, tears prick at my eyes. I blink them away. “I don’t know why you’re pushing me away. Let me know when you actually have a reason.”

I turn, but his widened gaze lets me know he’s already seen my tears. Damn it. I push the door open, ready to leave when his deep voice rings out.

“Because I have no idea why you slept with me.”

“What?””I saw a text on your phone. From Kyle.” He says the name of my ex like a slur.

“Oh my god, Oliver.”

“I’m not going to be party to cheating,” he says, voice vibrating with sincerity. “And I won’t be another project you take on to help you figure yourself out.”