Garrett

  "A woman exposing herself to me?" I hazard a damn good guess.

  "Yeah...I can't say as I've ever been in a relationship with someone where a woman would so boldly hit on my boyfriend," she grits out. "I can't say as it feels very good."

  "It's nothing," I assure her. "I wouldn't have done that. I was just about to tell her no."

  Olivia sighs with frustration. "But see, Garrett...that doesn't matter. What bugs me is that this is a part of your life. You're constantly going to be faced with that, and I'm constantly going to be insecure about it. I just don't think I have it in me to deal with that. Not at this point in my life."

  "So what?" I ask with a bit of resentment. "A woman exposes her breast to me, and you're ready to cut and run?"

  "Yes," she shouts at me, but then lowers her eyes. "I mean...no. Hell, I don't know. This isn't something I've ever had to deal with."

  I release my hold on Olivia's hand and cup her face. Her eyes are murky, shadowed heavily by the streetlight behind me. I lean in to peer at her closer. "What you saw in there...that woman coming on to me? Yeah...that happens sometimes. And before I met you, I'm not going to lie...I would have probably fucked her."

  Olivia tenses up and she tries to pull her face away, but I hold tight. I wait for her to succumb and give me her full attention.

  "But since I met you, that stuff means nothing to me. That is a pale representation of a shallow life...a meaningless fuck. Compared to you...it's all so trite and unfulfilling."

  Olivia takes in a stuttering breath and lets it out slowly. Her shoulders sag a bit, and I can feel her relax marginally.

  "Nothing...no woman...no piece of ass or fake boob thrust in my face will ever turn my eye away from you. Nothing and no one will ever come close to making me feel the way I do just when I'm holding your hand, or listening to you breathe at night. Nothing compares."

  She blinks at me, her eyes wide and confused. I give her head a slight shake with my hands. "Do you understand me, Olivia? Nothing compares to you."

  My last words are punctuated, and I'm relieved when I see understanding filter into her gaze. "You really mean that, don't you?" she asks in wonder.

  "I'm dead fucking serious," I tell her adamantly. "I can't see anything but you."

  Olivia's lips curl upward into a brilliant smile and she raises her own hands to grasp tightly onto my wrists. "I guess maybe now would be a good time to kiss me, then."

  "Fuckin' A," I agree, and I pull her mouth to mine in a swift and desperate kiss of affirmation. She sighs into me, and when I pull back, I see her eyes closed in pleasure and a peaceful smile on her full lips.

  "Are you okay?" I ask her, and her eyes pop open.

  She nods, her smile still in place. But then her brow creases in worry, and she says, "Did I make a terrible fool of myself back there?"

  I pull her into my body and wrap my arms around her. Resting my chin on her head, I assure her, "No one even saw you leave. It's cool."

  "My first reaction was to slap the hell out of that bitch," Olivia says, and I jerk in surprise.

  Pulling back, I look down at her in wonder. "You'd really have done that?"

  She shrugs daintily, but there's still fire in her eyes. "I wanted to, but who knows?"

  "That's kind of hot," I tell her with a grin. "You protecting my virtue and all that."

  Then I hear my favorite sound in the world. Olivia tilts her head back and laughs...full-throated and raspy...sexy as fuck. She presses her body in closer to mine and levels her gaze at me. "Well, I have no intention of protecting your virtue when you take me home tonight. In fact, I'm thinking about ruining it."

  Leaning down, I give her another quick kiss, then pull away, grabbing her hand. Turning back toward Houlihan's, I tell her, "Let's go make our goodbyes to everyone and get the hell out of here."

  "Best suggestion I've heard all night," she agrees as she trots to keep up with me.

  "I'm never going to live this down," I mutter as we make our way back inside the bar.

  "Why's that?"

  "Because Alex already said I was a pussy, and Zack was making fun of me because I couldn't keep my eyes off of you for more than two seconds. So the fact we're leaving so suddenly means they are going to give me shit for weeks."

  Olivia stops in her tracks and pulls against my hand. I turn to face her with my eyes raised.

  "You really can't keep your eyes off me?" she asks with a grin.

  I grimace, but say, "Apparently, it's a problem I have."

  Bringing the back of her free hand to her mouth, Olivia giggles and looks up at me through her long eyelashes. "Well, I find that to be sexy as hell, and it has just earned you a stellar blow job when we get out of here."

  I step in closer to her, looking down into her eyes, filled with promise. "You may possibly be the perfect woman."

  "So you've said before," she says tartly as we walk inside Houlihan's.

  My eye catches movement from the side, and I see the autograph-seeking blond boob-exposer standing just inside the door. I don't look at her for more than a second before turning my gaze toward the one and only woman who can truly hold my attention. Olivia looks back at me, and I see everything that is important in my world...care, desire, longing.

  Not giving a shit if the entire bar is watching, but in particular hoping the blonde is at least getting an eyeful, I bend down and kiss Olivia with all the passion and care I can muster. I push my tongue into her mouth and pull her body in close, bending her slightly backward. My hands hold on to her tightly...possessively, and, yeah...I even hope Alex and Zack are watching so they know I'm not a pussy, but rather I own my attraction to this beautiful woman.

  Fuck, my life is grand.

  Chapter 20

  Olivia

  "Are you all settled in?" Stevie asks as he tucks the blanket around me. I have my recliner kicked all the way back, my IV is going strong, and I have the most recent issues of Cosmopolitan, Vogue, and Elle.

  "I'm good," I tell him with a smile. "Maybe some ginger ale in a bit."

  "You got it, kiddo. I left something in the van and I need to lock it up."

  "I still can't believe you drove me here in the delivery van," I mutter. "It sticks out like a sore thumb."

  And it does. It's the same color purple that Fleurish is painted in, and you can see it coming from a mile away. He does nothing but give me a smirk and flounce out of the treatment room. Thankfully, Stevie's dressed fairly sedate today, in a pair of white skinny jeans and a Hello Kitty T-shirt. His Mohawk is tipped in blue, but he's forgone any facial rhinestones.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket and I reach under the blanket to fish it out. When I see MY HOTTIE on the screen, I smile big. I mean really big. Garrett changed his name in my contacts to that a few days ago, and it still tickles me.

  "What's up?" I say cheerfully into the phone.

  "You're awful chipper for someone that's having chemotherapy today," he says, his voice as deep as the ocean and as smooth as melted chocolate. I sigh to myself and close my eyes so I can conjure up his face. "Are you all hooked up?"

  "All hooked up," I tell him as I glance up at the bag of drugs that is dripping into my vein. "Stevie has me tucked in and I'm going to gorge myself on trashy magazines for the next few hours."

  Garrett is silent for a moment, and then he says, "I miss you. I wish I was there."

  My heart swells to nearly bursting proportions, because while his words have a profound effect on me, it's the tone of his voice that does me in. So wistful, filled with longing. It's exactly how I've been feeling since he left yesterday for an extended road trip for games against both L.A. teams. He won't be back for another four days and it sucks.

  Just plain sucks.

  "I miss you too. And you're up awful early," I muse, noting that it's only six A.M. in California right now.

  "Wanted to talk to you...wish you good luck when you started the treatment," he says simply, and again...my heart thumps with abandon. "I'm going to
get a light workout in this morning with Alex, then we'll head over to the arena around lunchtime."

  "I'll be watching you tonight on TV," I tell him as I fiddle with the edge of my blanket. "Cheering you on in between puking sessions."

  Garrett curses low. "Not funny, Olivia."

  "Little bit, right?" I tease.

  "Not even," he grumbles. "It kills me that you're going to be sick and I'm stuck out here. I should be there with you."

  "No, you should be right where you are, doing your job," I tell him adamantly. "I'll be fine. Stevie's going to stay with me, and Dr. Yoffman even said that each round will get easier. I might not even get sick."

  I can hear him blow out a gust of frustrated air, and he says something to me, but my attention is immediately diverted to entrance of the treatment room.

  "What the hell?" I say into the phone, my jaw dropping low.

  "What?" Garrett demands. "What's wrong?"

  "Oh, you are not going to believe this. Hold on," I tell him as I put him on speakerphone and immediately pull up my camera app. Holding it out in front of me, I take a picture of the freak show that is walking my way and text it to Garrett. "I just texted you a picture. And now, all of a sudden, I am really wishing you were here instead of Stevie."

  I wait a moment, then I hear Garrett laughing on the other end as he pulls up my texted photo. "Holy shit. Why in the hell is he carrying that?"

  "I have no clue, but let me find out. Talk to you tonight after the game?"

  "Sure thing, baby. Rest up and be well. Miss you."

  "Miss you too," I say distractedly, then I disconnect.

  And I stare up at Stevie standing there with a huge smile on his face and holding a six-foot inflatable palm tree. He's slightly out of breath and his face is red, but what stands out the most is that he's changed into a white tank top, a red sarong with palm trees patterned over it, and flip-flops. He has several leis around his neck made from what looks to be plumeria.

  "What are you doing?" I ask, incredulous.

  "Just hold tight," he says vaguely as he puts the palm tree right beside my IV stand. "I'm not done yet."

  Glancing around the room, I see everyone is looking our way...some with curiosity, others with full-blown smiles. A little girl who sits two chairs over with a bright pink scarf covering her bald head watches with large eyes and a tiny tilt to her lips. There are a total of five other people in treatment with me today, and it's quite boring just sitting here watching liquid fall droplet by droplet into your body. I'm sure this is the most interesting thing they've ever seen while getting their chemo.

  Stevie walks back out, and within just moments comes back in pulling a large cooler with wheels and a huge beach bag over his shoulder. I watch in stunned awe as he lugs everything right up to my recliner.

  "You're going to get us thrown out of here," I hiss at him, my eyes darting over to the nurse's station, which is empty right now. There's not much that goes on in the treatment room, and usually a nurse will come by every hour and check on everyone's progress.

  Stevie doesn't say a word, but plops the huge beach bag on the floor and starts rummaging through it. Out comes a beach towel that he unfolds and lays on the floor a few feet from my chair. Next...an iPod docking station, which he places under the palm tree. He never looks at me, but takes his iPod and connects it. With a few swipes of his finger over the screen, the sounds of ocean waves and seagulls crying out fill the air around me. His gaze cuts to me and he gives me a smirk before reaching back in his bag, pulling out another docking station that he sits on the other side of my chair. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and connects it. Within moments, the soft strains of Hawaiian music can be heard.

  "You are unbelievable," I say in awe.

  "I'm not through yet," he says, and I suppress a groan. Diving back into his beach bag, he pulls out two plastic cups shaped like halved coconut shells. Stevie opens the cooler, dips in for some ice, and then cracks open a can of ginger ale. He pours some for me and then places a straw and a freakin' little paper umbrella on the side.

  "Your cocktail, madame," he says with flourish as he presents my cup to me. As soon as I take it, he whips one of the leis off and places it over my head.

  "Un-freakin'-believable," I say as my fingers absently stroke the soft flower petals.

  Stevie pours himself a drink and then sits down on the beach towel in front of my chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and making sure his sarong stays demurely tucked in. "Today's chemo theme is Tropical Paradise. Do you like?"

  "I love," I whisper to him. "But I'm not sure the nurses are going to like this."

  Stevie shrugs. "I'll take it out if they want me to, but it's not hurting anything. Besides, this place can be a drag. I wanted to liven it up for you a bit."

  Taking another sip of ginger ale, I just smile down at my best friend and marvel at his thoughtfulness. Stevie gives me a wink and then looks to his right. The little girl is still staring at us.

  "You want to get in on some of this beach action?" he asks her, and she lowers her eyes shyly. Her mom, who is sitting with her, smiles at Stevie and then leans in toward her daughter to whisper in her ear.

  Stevie pops up from the floor, brushing nonexistent wrinkles out of his sarong, and walks up to the girl and her mother. "Come on. Come hang out on my beach with me and my friend Olivia. I've got coconut cups for you and your mom. We'll drink ginger ale and I might even perform a special Hawaiian dance for you."

  The little girl looks up at Stevie with big, unblinking eyes but doesn't say a word. He turns to her mother and asks, "You two want to come hang with us?"

  "Sure," the mom says, and she sticks her hand out to Stevie. "I'm Amelia, and this is my daughter, Ruby."

  "I'm delighted and honored," Stevie says as he shakes Amelia's hand and then holds his hand out to Ruby. She looks to be about seven or eight years old, and although she hesitates for a moment, she finally sticks her hand out.

  He picks it up and gives it a gentle shake. "You may possibly be the most beautiful little girl I've ever seen in my life," he tells her, and she lowers her eyes again.

  I watch in quiet disbelief but with absolute pride in my friend as Stevie squats down to the wheels at the bottom of Ruby's recliner and unlocks the brakes. While he rolls her chair over closer to me, just on the other side of the palm tree, her mom pushes the IV stand behind. When he gets her situated, he locks the brakes and then brings her mom's chair over.

  When everyone is settled, Stevie reaches back into his goodie bag and pulls out some more coconut cups, filling them with ice and ginger ale for Amelia and Ruby. He then proceeds to hand out coconut cups of ginger ale to the rest of the patients before returning to his beach towel and plopping down.

  Stevie and Amelia keep up a running chatter while Ruby and I relax and absorb our drugs. She's very quiet, but every time she looks at Stevie her eyes light up and her lips curve into a shy smile. One of the nurses makes her rounds, taking in our beach setup with a smirk, but she doesn't say a word.

  After about an hour, I'm drowsy, so I shut my eyes and let the ocean waves and strumming ukulele lull me to sleep, and even though I sit here with a needle in my vein dripping poison into my body so that it can kill another poison in my body, I can't help but have a satisfied smile on my face.

  --

  "Damn, he looks hot out on the ice," Stevie says dreamily.

  "That he does," I say with a sigh as we watch the Cold Fury--and in particular, Garrett--take on the L.A. Dragons. We're lying in my bed, both of us in our pajamas with the covers pulled up. It's not the first time Stevie has had a sleepover at my place. This is actually the third, the other two times occurring after Stevie suffered a broken heart and needed a pajama party at his bestie's.

  "You all good?" he asks.

  "Feeling okay," I tell him without taking my eyes off the hockey game. While I had some nausea throughout the afternoon, I never did throw up, and I count that as a win in my book. I do
feel way more tired than I did after the last treatment, but I'm sure a good night's sleep will help.

  Except I'm not going to sleep until after the game is over. Any chance I can get to watch Garrett I'm going to take, because I miss him so much. He had texted me about an hour before the game started. I was already tucked into bed while Stevie sat out in the kitchen to eat his dinner. While I hadn't thrown up, the smell of food was increasing my nausea.

  How is my girl feeling? He had texted.

  Little nausea, no vomit. All good, I wrote back.

  Thinking of you. Missing you. Will call you after the game.

  I immediately texted back, Miss you too. Good luck tonight.

  He didn't text back, but that didn't bother me. I know he was getting into game mode and had bigger things to focus on than me. When Stevie was done eating, he put on his pajamas, brushed his teeth, and then crawled into my bed so we could watch the game.

  At the end of the second period, I throw the covers off and swing my legs out of the bed.

  "Where are you going?" Stevie asks as he sits up. "I can get whatever you need."

  "I need to pee. Think you can handle that for me?" I say with a laugh as I head toward the bathroom.

  He calls out, "Smart ass," and I snicker to myself, but, damn, I love him. I'm so blessed to have the friends that I do.

  Once I finish in the bathroom, I take some Tylenol because I started getting a headache about an hour ago that I'd hoped would go away by now. Looking in the mirror while I wash my hands, I note that my skin is a little paler than normal, but I just assume that's from the chemo. During my last treatment, I was too sick to even look in the mirror at myself.

  By the time I get back to my bed, I'm a little out of breath, and Stevie notices. "Jesus...you're huffing like you just ran a marathon."

  I suck in a lungful of oxygen before crawling back into bed and let it out slowly. "I'm just a little tired...that's all."

  "How about we turn off the game and go to sleep? You got another treatment tomorrow and you need your rest."

  "No way. I'm not missing one second of this. Besides...Garrett's going to call me after the game."

  "Fine," Stevie says, holding his hands up, and then plops back down onto his pillows. "We'll finish watching the game, you can talk to your honey, then it's lights out. No arguments."