The Ones Who Got Away

  * * *

  By Friday afternoon, Liv’s eyes felt like they were going to melt out of her head. She’d worked every night this week until the wee hours of the morning, bringing the project home with her and doing little else. She’d thrown herself into all the details, making sure it wasn’t a rush job despite the crazed schedule. The account was a big one, and she wanted to nail it to show Preston and the client that they could count on her to deliver great work.

  The pace had taken its toll, and exhaustion was settling in. But it was worth it because she was now ahead of the proposed schedule and had gotten to the point that would allow her to take off the weekend without guilt. She could almost smell the lake air, hear the water lapping at the shore, feel the warmth of Finn’s body against her in bed…

  “Hey, Olivia?”

  Liv looked up, startled out of her thoughts. Annabelle, one of the junior designers, stood in front of her desk with an apologetic smile. Liv sat up straighter and pasted an I-wasn’t-thinking-about-X-rated-things look onto her face. “Hey, what’s up?”

  Annabelle held out her hand, a bright-pink sticky note attached to her fingers. “So I’ve been trying to build a members-only page for this client, but I made some mistake in the code somewhere and it’s letting anyone get in and access paid features. I’d tried to figure it out, but it’s going to take more time than I have. I’m playing a gig with my band tonight and really need to be there. Pres said I should let you take a look since you’re ahead on your project and are a genius with these kinds of things.”

  “Pres said—” Liv frowned and grabbed the sticky note that had the client’s account info on it. “Big show?”

  Annabelle brightened. “Yeah. It’s Battle of the Bands at Three Thirsty Roosters.”

  Three Thirsty Roosters, which held a Battle of the Bands every week and probably could hold, like, thirty people if those people didn’t have issues with personal space or body odor. Not exactly a super-important gig when anyone could get onstage and take a shot.

  Normally, she wouldn’t have blinked. Her coworkers had all kinds of things going on that she chalked up to being young and in Austin—bands, throwback bowling leagues, street taco cook-offs, roller derby. She usually didn’t mind picking up the slack where needed since she was a senior designer and worked late anyway. Her father had always told her the best way to maintain job security was to be indispensable. She’d taken that to heart, always filling in the gaps others wouldn’t.

  But the words Pres said and the assumption that she would take on more despite her already-crazy workload dug under her skin. She’d already sent him an email saying she was ahead. Instead of him thanking her for working fourteen-hour days and telling her to take her weekend, he now assumed she’d stick around and take on even more work? What if she wanted to go try her hand at Battle of the Bands? It could happen.

  Okay, probably not, but she did have something on her schedule. No, someone. She put the note back in Annabelle’s hands, aggravation pulsing through her. “Sorry. There’s no way I can squeeze this in tonight, and I’ve got plans this weekend. You’ll have to tell the client you’ll handle it on Monday.”

  Annabelle’s pierced brow arched. “But they want it ASAP.”

  “Then you’ll have to work late tonight, come in tomorrow, or get Preston to deal with it. I’m not available.”

  “I—” Annabelle’s lips opened but then shut when she saw the look on Liv’s face. “Fine. I’ll figure it out.”

  Annabelle stalked off, her knee-high boots clicking on the wood floors like a hammer, but Liv couldn’t find it in her to care. She didn’t have a band, but she had important things she needed to do. Like take photos of pancakes and irritate Finn’s parents. And naked things. Lots of naked things.

  With that surge of righteous indignation, she got up from her desk and headed to Preston’s office. He’d told her he wouldn’t be available to talk until later tonight when she’d show him her preliminary designs, but she’d heard that line a few times this week and was done with it. They would talk now.

  Liv knocked on Preston’s door but didn’t wait for him to call her in. She stepped inside his office and shut the door behind her. “I need a minute.”

  Preston didn’t look up from the papers he was flipping through. “I was just about to call you. Great job on fixing the Anderson Wines site so quickly last week. They said they’re sending you a gift basket.”

  “Cool. Pres, I—”

  “Are you making sure your designs for Butter and Brittle look great on mobile, too? The design you sent me yesterday wasn’t converting well on my phone.”

  Liv shifted in her heels, swallowing down her annoyance at the interruption. “I figured out the issue. It’s fixed.”

  He glanced up, smiled camera-flash quick, and jotted something down on a notepad. “Great. I told them we’re running ahead. They’re thrilled. Hopefully, we can get the designs to them early. That would look fantastic and would probably get us some referrals.”

  “What?” she said, forgetting to watch her tone. “You’re not supposed to tell them we’re ahead. I’m working with the original schedule, which was already fast. It’s not going to be early.”

  Confusion flashed over his features. “But you’re days ahead.”

  She smoothed her lipstick, steeling herself. “I’m days ahead for me. I doubled up my hours this week so that I can take the weekend.”

  Preston looked at his notepad again. “No way.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  Jotting, jotting, jotting, like she wasn’t even there having a conversation with him. “No can do. The client is now expecting early, and we deliver what we promise. Plus, Annabelle’s out this weekend already. You know weekends are part of the deal here.”

  “Then I need to take vacation days. I have a thing.”

  He sniffed. “You mean your new boyfriend?”

  Her ears went hot. “And in the category of things that are not your business…”

  “We’re too swamped.”

  “We’re always swamped.”

  He glanced up, warning lingering behind his dark-frame glasses. “Which means business is going well, which is job security for you and me, which is what we’re trying to do here, right? Plus, even if I was granting vacation requests, I need them six weeks in advance. And I can’t grant you special favors. You know how that’d look.”

  Her teeth clicked together. She knew that wasn’t true. Manny had taken a last-minute vacation two weeks ago when he won an entry to a Vegas poker tournament. Preston had been all back slaps and go-get-’em about that.

  And the you know how that’d look comment burrowed right through her last bit of tolerance. Early on, before Preston had taken over the top spot from his brother, she and Pres had had a minor thing. A few hookups after working late together because it was convenient and light. Nothing dramatic and not the best decision on her part because he’d blabbed about it to a few coworkers. She’d ended it shortly after that. But now he inevitably brought it up anytime she asked for anything because other employees knew they had a history.

  But this wasn’t a special favor. She didn’t ask for those. “I worked double hours this week. I brought work home to get ahead on the project. Everything will be delivered on the original schedule. The client can wait.”

  “No.”

  The response was so curt, so I’m not even listening to you anymore that she wanted to snap her fingers in his face to get his attention.

  Liv’s fingers curved around the back of the chair she was standing behind. Earlier in the week, she’d been debating going back to Finn’s place, wondering if she’d made a huge mistake. But now that Preston was pushing back on her, she realized how useless the internal debate had been. He could pull the plug on it without her even having a say. “What about working remotely? Everything I need is on my laptop.”


  He let out a belabored breath, like she was officially annoying him now. He set his pen down. “Olivia, I’m sorry, but it’s not going to work. I need you here. You saw what happened when you were gone for two days. We can talk about vacation near the holidays when things slow down.” His gaze shifted to his computer screen, dismissing her. “And hit the brew button on the coffeepot on your way out. It’s going to be one of those nights.”

  Liv stood there, anger making her freeze up.

  She wasn’t one to make waves at work. Even with her carnal knowledge of her boss, she was nothing but a professional here. She’d done the rebel thing in her teen years and in college and had been burned thoroughly. She’d learned that life was easier when you played along, did your job, didn’t get labeled difficult. But something deep inside her was on fire, and the flames were gaining ground. She knew what she was supposed to do. Act rationally. Swallow her frustration. Go to her desk and suck it up. Get her work done. Get Annabelle’s work done. Make Preston some fucking coffee.

  But her legs wouldn’t move.

  When Preston glanced up and noticed her still standing there, he frowned. He didn’t say it, but the sentiment was clear: Why are you still here?

  She didn’t have an answer.

  Not for why she was still in his office. And not for why she was still here. In this job. In this place. In this life.

  “I need the weekend, Pres,” she said finally. “I’m taking it.”

  His eyebrows disappeared beneath his over-styled, messy-on-purpose hair. “That’s not for you to decide.”

  She took a breath and released the chair in front of her. “It is, actually. Fire me if you need to.”

  That seemed to snap some of his bravado. He groaned and scraped a hand through his hair. “Olivia, what the hell is going on with you? You’re my partner in crime when shit hits the fan here. I’m telling you I need you, and you’re threatening to bail? This isn’t you.”

  “Maybe you don’t know me then.”

  He scoffed. “Don’t know you? Come on.” He got up from behind the desk and stepped around it to perch on the front, facing off with her. He gave her a confident smirk, the one the interns got all doe-eyed over. “I’d say we know each other pretty well. I know you have a cute birthmark on your inner right thigh.”

  Her nails curled into her palms. “That’s not knowing me. That’s fucking me.”

  His smile fell. “I know you’re a perfectionist like me. I know your clients matter to you. I know that you don’t go off on whims and leave a client hanging. I know you’re like me.”

  “Like you,” she said, her voice flat.

  “Yeah.” He stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “We get each other because this job is our life. We know that’s what it takes to get ahead. So don’t threaten me with walking out when I know that’s not what you want to do. If you don’t have this, what do you have? Because I know what that answer is for me.”

  The words hit her like hot needles, each one a prick to her skin, drawing blood. If she didn’t have work every day, what did she have?

  A generic apartment. A few friends she occasionally met up with for lunch. A couple of TV shows she recorded. A family that loved her as long as she was their version of a well-behaved, contributing member to society.

  She swallowed hard.

  Preston smiled at her lack of answer. He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Why don’t you take the rest of the night off, and I’ll take care of Annabelle’s issue? Get some sleep and then come back with your head together in the morning. I’ll be working all weekend, too, so we can keep each other company.”

  “Pres…”

  His smile remained in place. “Yeah?”

  She removed his hand from her shoulder. “You have no clue who I am.”

  “Olivia,” he said, the word full of impatience.

  “I quit.”

  His pretty-boy eyes went wide, and her stomach did a roller-coaster plummet.

  I quit?

  Had those words just come out of her mouth? I quit?

  Before he could say anything else or she could sufficiently freak out, she turned and strode out of his office. Numb. Trembling. Ears buzzing.

  “Olivia…”

  She heard her name but didn’t stop. She passed the coffeepot on the table outside and, in a daze, tapped the button. The thing sputtered to life as she went to her desk on autopilot. A few of her coworkers remained in the industrial-style open office even though the lights had been turned low. From the outside looking in, it looked like it’d be a fun place to work—toys on people’s desks, a basketball net above the trash can, bright comic book artwork on the exposed brick walls. But she glanced around at those who were still at their desk—headphones on, eyes glued to their screens, Red Bull cans on their desks—and just felt hollow.

  Just keep moving. Just keep moving.

  The words repeated in her head like she was channeling that forgetful fish from the Disney movie. Just keep swimming. She gathered a few personal things, dumped them in a bag, and then walked out of the office. Keep moving. No one even looked up. And Preston never came out of his office to chase her.

  Only when she hit the thick evening heat outside did the reality of what she’d done smack her in the face. She sat down on a bus stop bench, her bag o’ crap at her feet, and let the wave she’d set in motion crash over her, splashing reality all around her and pooling anxiety in her gut.

  Her big risk this summer was going to be spending time at Finn’s and knocking the dust off her camera. That was going to be her toe in the water. Instead, she’d fallen off the dock into the ocean.

  She’d quit her job. Her only source of income. A job she’d dedicated years to. A job that was…

  Her life.

  Holy shit.

  She’d just quit her life.

  chapter

  NINETEEN

  “Did you get the photos?” Finn asked in between sips of beer as he leaned back in the chair, the view of the lake black at this hour and his mood the same.

  “I did,” Billings said. “Barely recognized you.”

  “Yeah. I shaved off the beard and cut my hair. Didn’t want to take any chances.”

  Billings sniffed. “It wasn’t that. It was the goofy smile on your face. Not sure I’ve seen you with one of those before.”

  Finn grunted. “You usually aren’t telling me things that inspire smiling.”

  “Well, that and I’m not half as pretty as your lady friend. What’s her name again?”

  “Olivia.” Finn closed his eyes and rubbed his brow. He couldn’t think about Liv right now. She’d been gone almost a week, and he hadn’t heard a damn thing from her. He’d fucked it up and scared her off by moving too fast, by letting his dick commandeer his brain. “And don’t fool yourself, boss. You’re a beauty.”

  “Kissing up will get you nowhere. But I’m glad to see you looking human again. Keep the pictures coming, and keep up those weekly calls with Doc Robson. They’ll help your case.”

  “My case?”

  “Yeah. I have a big operation shaping up that I know you’ll want to be in on, but I’ll have to go to bat for you to convince the higher-ups that you’ll be ready that soon.”

  Finn straightened in the chair. “What kind of operation?”

  Billings didn’t respond for a few seconds. “Can’t give details yet. We’re still in surveillance mode.”

  Finn frowned, frustrated that his boss insisted on keeping him in the dark. But if Billings thought Finn would want to be in on it, there was a chance it was a lead on the Long Acre guns. Finn’s heartbeat ticked up a notch. “When would it start?”

  “September is my goal. Would need you up here before that to get you prepared.”

  “Got it. If you send me the files, I can start—”

  “No,” Bi
llings said firmly. “No work right now. This break is a requirement. You’ll get everything you need when it’s time. The only reason I’m telling you anything now is so that you’re motivated to keep doing what you’re doing.”

  Finn nodded, determination making his muscles go tight. “Got it.”

  “And Dorsey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do all you can to enjoy this break. Spend time with your lady. See your family, your friends. Do whatever it is that gets you smiling like you were in that picture because you’re going to need those memories going into this assignment. It’s an ugly one, and it’s gonna take a while.”

  Finn swallowed hard. “Right. I’ll be ready for it. And I’m visiting my family tomorrow.”

  “Good.” Finn could almost picture Billings giving that curt nod he did when he dismissed people after meetings. “I’ll check in soon.”

  Finn ended the call and leaned back in the chair, mind whirling. Something in Billings’s voice was off. Whatever this next assignment was, his boss was more concerned than normal. He wanted Finn to be mentally sound—that was a given—but something else was there, too. Finn knew if he asked, he wouldn’t get any answers, but at least he now had an end goal in sight. They’d let him back in the field if he could prove he wasn’t irreparably damaged from the last job, that he wouldn’t go rogue on them. That he was normal.

  Or mostly. Because God knows he’d never be totally normal. He wasn’t even sure what that looked like anymore. Seeing his family tomorrow would only highlight that. But bailing on the visit wasn’t going to cut it. Billings would expect more photos, more proof that Finn was stable and ready for this job. He needed to keep up appearances, and Liv was no longer here to help. She didn’t say she wasn’t coming back, but she hadn’t called or texted. He’d messed things up. He needed to call her, apologize for taking advantage of the situation, try to get things back on track…

  But when he lifted his phone to call, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to be someone’s charity case. If she didn’t want to be here, he wasn’t going to guilt her into it. He’d figure it out on his own.