Page 25 of Fighting for You
I look up and see she’s looking right back at me, her mouth set in a grim line. “That boy needs to get his head out of his ass,” she finally says.
“Lydia!” I say with a chuckle.
“Oh, please. He never knows what’s good for him,” Lydia huffs out. “But if it’s not him putting that look on your face, what’s going on?”
I sigh heavily, weighing if it’s even worth mentioning. It makes me feel immature and young to bring it up. What kind of grown adult person gets their feelings hurt by not being invited out? It’s not like my coworkers are my friends. “It’s silly. Jan and Aubrey were in the lounge making plans to go out this weekend, and they didn’t invite me along. I’m not particularly close with them, but it would be nice to make some friends here.” I swallow down the lump forming in my throat and force out, “Like I said, silly.”
“It’s not silly if it hurts your feelings,” she mutters gently, motioning for me to come sit next to her by the window. I place the watering can down on her dresser and make my way over.
“Really, it’s fine,” I say as I take a seat. “I think between Brooks ignoring me and now this, I’m just a little in my feelings. I’ve been here for over six months already, and making friends has been tough with my work schedule.”
Lydia nods at me, her face warm and accepting. She doesn’t make me feel immature or invalidated, always listening to my problems. Sometimes I wonder who takes care of whom here.
I know if I went to Hayes with this, he’d tell me to forget about those women and just keep focusing on my job. He’d do it in a way that makes me feel like a child again, most likelytelling me to stop whining. It takes a lot of energy from me to not revert to my fifteen-year-old self around him when he treats me as such.
“Why don’t you reach out to Thea?” she asks. “She’s told me she’s invited you out with her and Ripley a few times. I know she can ramble sometimes, and Ripley’s a bit of a smartass, but they’re fun to be around, and they mean well.”
“You don’t think I’d be imposing? They seem so in love. I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel,” I say, looking down at my hands.
Lydia chuckles. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. If they invited you out, they want you there.”
Thea and Ripley have always been very nice when I run into them here at Saint Stephen’s. They pull me into conversations, making me feel like I’ve known them forever, not just in passing while I’m at work.
I smile at the thought of what a night out with them would consist of. Ripley’s a bit of a loose canon, so I know I’d be in for some fun. “I’ll think about it. Thanks,” I say, finding I feel better and appreciating Lydia for helping me get out of my head. Again. “Do you need anything else? Jan will be with you for the evening.”
“Hmmm, I’ll be sure to keep her running around,” she says conspiratorially.
“Be nice! I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say with a laugh, getting up from the chair and moving across the room to put the watering can away before I head out for the night.
I check on a few other residents before making my way back to the nurses’ lounge. Stepping over to the kitchenette, I rinse out my water bottle and notice a few dirty dishes left in the sink. I set my phone on the counter next to me while I wash the plates and glasses, “10,000 Emerald Pools” by BØRNS starts playing quietly.
Once the dishware is resting in the drying rack, I go over to the locker room just off the lounge to grab my jacket and purse. I pause when I see a red gift bag sitting in front of my locker. There’s white and red tissue paper sticking out of the top of the bag. As I get closer, I notice a gift tag attached to it. Reaching out, I turn it over and read “Margot” printed on it.
Confused, I pull the tissue paper out of the bag and lift a square wrapped in the same tissue paper. The sound of the paper ripping under my fingers echoes throughout the empty locker room. I look around as though I expect the person who left the gift for me to pop out of the showers around the corner.
Once all the paper is removed, I realize the square is actually a canvas, about ten inches by ten inches in size.
“Oh,” I whisper to myself as I take in the painting. It’s a surreal depiction of an anatomical heart, blood red set on a bright yellow-orange background with black, purple, and blue veins running all over it. My heart races at the sight. The piece is gorgeous, and goosebumps rise up my arms in reaction to it.
“Oh! Look at that,” says Jan from the doorway, startling me. “Looks like you got your Secret Santa present early, lucky girl! I usually end up getting something thoughtless and last minute right before I leave for the holiday.” She steps closer and looks at the painting. “Hmm, pretty,” she adds, then seems to lose interest and goes over to her locker to grab whatever she came in here for.
“Uhh, yeah, it’s very… thoughtful.” I look back down at the heart. It is pretty. But the more I look at it, the more it makes mefeel uneasy. Something about the brush strokes makes it seem a little eerie; despite the bright colors, it looks sinister. Then I peer into the gift bag to see if maybe there’s a card but see none. I look at the painting again. “Are we supposed to find out who our Secret Santa is?”
“Sometimes. There are some people who take it very seriously, and they never tell,” Jan says, and I can hear the eye roll in her tone.
I turn the painting over, and tucked into the corner of the frame is a paper with details of the piece. My mouth instantly dries, and my stomach plummets as I read it over and over.
Chapter Eleven
Brooks
Did I spend the last two days since seeing Margot in the hardware store drinking and smoking nonstop? Maybe. I don’t have it in me to feel shitty about it. The girl has infiltrated my brain in a way no other person has. In a way I didn’t even know was possible. And it would be fine, if she weren’t Hayes’ sister. But she is.
But God, if she weren’t? I’d let myself have her. Trick her into thinking I’m a decent guy, let her think she could change me or whatever bullshit women think when they see my tattoos, motorcycle, and surly attitude. I’d charm her into my bed, show her a good time for a night, and not feel a shred of guilt as I leave before she wakes up the next morning. But the second I found out her last name is Mason, any thought of being my normal asshole self to her went to shit.
At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself. It’s all about Hayes and her relation to him. Underneath it all—buried so deep I can barely even sense it’s there at all—I know it’s more thanthat. I have to stay away because she’s pure, good, sweet, kind—all of the things I’m not. She’s the kind of person who would donate a kidney to a stranger without much thought just because they’re in need. She lights up a room when she walks in, causing every pair of eyes to look her way. She’s beautiful in more than just physical attributes, it’s her soul that’s so captivating.
I’m a shitty person who’s done shitty things, but even I can’t stand the thought of damaging a soul as pure as hers. When I walk into a room, I suck the energy out of it, people leave to avoid the onslaught they see coming. My soul is too blackened and toxic for someone like her.
