Chapter 1
LIV
Loud neighbours, cracks in the ceiling, and no functioning air-conditioning to speak of; this apartment is a far cry from the ivy-covered halls I’ve grown accustomed to over the past few years. Grown accustomed to, but never called home. Yet this tiny, rundown, boiling hot Nashville apartment somehow feels like home, even though I’ve only been living here for about three days.
Everyone thinks that once you get into a fancy college, it will wrap you up like a warm blanket and make you feel comfortable, nurtured, and safe. But, the grass isn't always greener on the other side. In fact, it's plastic, painted and completely fake.
Sometimes, what actually makes you feel safe is the people around you—your tiny best friend and her massive hulk of a boyfriend.
They are the only two people in the world who would travel across state lines, confront your ex-boyfriend, and whisk you away with all your belongings in a matter of hours. You might expect the person who confronted Ted- the ex-boyfriend- to be Tank- my best friend’s boyfriend and Vice President of a motorcycle gang- but you’d be dead wrong. In fact, it was the tiny blonde sitting right next to me, forcing me to watch the same Disney movie for the tenth time since I arrived in Nashville.
"Stop chewing so loud. This is the best part.” Emily demands as she playfully throws a pillow at my head. She may be five foot one and weigh-in at about 110 pounds soaking wet, but she has a fierce spirit and can kick anyone’s ass if she sets her mind to it—that’s why I love her. I still can’t fathom why I left her in the first place. I guess the easiest excuse would be that I was blinded. Blinded by the prestige of a fancy college and the promise of forever love.
“Please, Em, can we watch something else? There’s only so many times I can watch a princess explore the ocean with her pet chicken.” I might be whining but my struggle is real. I can only handle so much singing in one movie.
“I had to drain excess blood from a guy’s penis today. I think I earned the right to watch this movie again,” she retorts.
“At least you have a job,” I groan, tossing the pillow back at her and nearly knocking over her popcorn in the process.
Both Em and I excelled in school. We worked our butts off during our undergraduate degree's. When it came to getting into medical school and residency, she moved here to Nashville while I went to Connecticut. It was the first time we had been separated since we were kids and boy do I regret not following her to Nashville. Em now works here, doing what we love—helping people. As for me, I packed up and left Connecticut without a word to my supervisor, so I don’t exactly have a glowing recommendation to provide any Nashville hospital or clinic.
“Bite your tongue. You’ll get another residency position. You’ve only been here a couple of days, and you’re still recovering, for God’s sake. We’ll send out another round of applications tomorrow. Don’t worry your pretty little head,” Em reassures me, always the optimist. But I’m not so optimistic anymore.
After another Disney movie and three tubs of ice cream later, just as I’m about ready to threaten to throw the TV remote out the window, I hear a key turning in the front door. Tank waltzes in as if he owns the place. His eyes immediately finding Em snuggled up beside me on our worn sofa. A bright white smile stretches across his strong, clean-shaven jaw, making him look almost boyish—almost, because being 6 foot 2 and a million pounds of straight muscle wrapped in leather and tattoos doesn’t exactly scream adolescent.
“Hey, Tanky Bear. Thank God you’re here. She won’t stop making me watch cartoons,” I exclaim as Tank completely ignores me and proceeds to scoop Em up off the couch and deposit her on the kitchen counter of our open concept apartment. Tank is a regular here at our place. In fact, he basically lives here. Which despite my new found fear of men- I don't mind at all. I trust Tank with my life, especially after he came to my rescue in Connecticut. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips as I watch Tank whisper sweet nothings into the crock of my best friend neck. I open my mouth to tell them to get a room but very large bikers walk through our front door immediately stealing the words from my lips.
“Tanky Bear? Shit, I think I just found your new road name,” The blue-haired guy says with a wink directed at me as he takes a seat on the couch opposite the one my own butt is parked on.
Without taking his eyes off Em, Tank replies, “Go fuck yourself, Joey,” before planting a soft kiss on Emily’s nose.
Em’s eyes track the other three men in the room as they quickly get comfortable in our space. Her eyes swing over to me checking in to see if I’m comfortable with the newcomers. She clears her throat and waves at the guys one by one. “Hey guys, this is my friend Olivia. Liv, this is Joey, PJ, and Rock. They’re members of the same motorcycle club as Tank. Super nice guys, wouldn’t hurt a fly.” She’s flailing a bit, her panic slightly tampering mine. I even stifle a giggle as I watch her shoot daggers at Tank, who now looks like a scolded puppy.
I wave at them all, trying not to look nervous. Being around a group of guys these days makes me a little skittish, at best. Luckily, PJ politely waves back before sitting beside Joey- as far away from me as possible. Tank must have talked to them, as it’s quite obvious they’re keeping their distance. I don’t know how I feel about these men knowing my story—I don’t exactly want it splattered across the news. Joey and PJ seem harmless, though, joking around like children on the other side of the room.
It’s the man that struts in last; the man currently sitting at the kitchen table, in the middle of our space who is making me sweat behind the knees. The only acknowledgement I receive from him is a slight head nod in greeting. His dark chocolaty eyes- the same colour as his short wavy hair- watch me intently. The expression on his face; a mixture of curiosity, and something else I can’t quite put my finger on sets butterflies fluttering low in my belly. It’s a feeling I haven’t experienced in months, or if I’m honest with myself, years.
Em clears her throat, breaking the staring contest between Rock and I. “Liv, you said you were tired. If you want to go to bed, I’ll make sure these heathens keep it down.”
I never mentioned being tired, she’s giving me an out—an easy escape to my room, a chance to hide away in my own space and let the post-traumatic stress eat away at my social skills. Everything inside me is screaming to do exactly that—to run. But for some reason, call it blatant curiosity, I shake my head. “I’m good, as long as we change the movie.”
While Joey and PJ argue over the movie options, Tank grabs one of the pizza boxes and carries it over to the table, sitting beside Rock so they can both happily munch on our left overs. Em snuggles up beside me, her voice barely audible as she whispers, “I’m so sorry, I told Tank not to bring the guys. I'm so going to kick his ass later.”
“Kick his ass? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully at her, eliciting a giggle. She tucks her feet under herself and snuggles even closer into my side. Handing me the remote to change the movie to something with a little more action and less happily ever after. Joey and PJ pipe in with their suggestions and we land on Fast and the Furious.
Throughout the whole movie, I can’t help but steal glances at Rock. He exudes a sense of danger, a lethal aura. Tattoos completely cover his right arm, and I catch glimpses of more ink peeking out around the collar of his snug black t-shirt, hugging his broad chest. He is undeniably attractive, and I hate how much he peaks my interest. I try to remind myself that curiosity killed the cat. Men are nothing but heartbreakers. They string you along, making false promises of love and forever, only to leave you feeling insignificant and small.
Residual pain trickles down my back and arms, running along the bruises still marring my skin. They serve as reminders, fuelling my determination to avoid falling into the same trap.
Something on the screen makes Rock smirk and I catch a glimpse of what his smile might look like. It’s enough to make my pulse quicken. But I can’t let myself be swayed. I need to focus on healing and rebuilding my life. Men can wait or simply fall off a cliff for all I care.
My train of thought, causes memories to slowly creep their way to the surface of my mind. Something I've been avoiding for the last few days. Feeling the weight of the memories and bruises is too much for me. I gingerly wiggle out of Em’s hold and whisper a quiet goodnight to the group. These few hours of socializing have exhausted me. Pathetic; I know. Trust me, I'm working on it. If you can believe it, I used to be a social butterfly. People even used to call Emily and I, twins. Let's just say I'm a work in progress.
But right now I'm going to crawl into bed and try to process the emotions swimming in my brain.
