Page 41 of Scars of Anatomy

Fight

I stay in the shower long after the water turns cold. Until not only my brain but my body is numb too.

When I finally find the energy, I turn off the water and dry off, slip on some new clothes, and pad back down the hall to my room. Once inside, I lean back against the door and slide down the wood, sitting on the floor and bringing my knees up to my chest.

I examine my busted-up knuckles, the cuts starting to scab over after the brutal clashing against Rat Boy’s face, the brick wall, and another round of punches thrown at the tiled wall of the shower.

My eyes drift up my arms to the scars on my forearms, the burns still haunting me.

Anger bubbles up inside me again and I slam my fists down on the floor.

I hate the power these stupid scars still hold over me, no matter how much I pretend they don’t. I hate the man who put them there. I hate my mother for being such a shitty parent. I hate my entire childhood. I hate being such a fuckup. I hate everything and everyone. Myself included.

Not since I was a child have I felt so confused, so lost, so broken.

All my life, people have come and gone. I got so used to it, so used to only depending on myself. No one ever cared for me—except for maybe Lexi, but I lost her too—and I learned to live with that. Learned to cope. Learned to not need anyone. To want anyone. To be alone.

But, god, do I need Olivia.

I’ve never cared about anyone or anything before.

And I certainly never had anyone care for me, not like she has.

Sure girls have been interested in me, thrown themselves at me, but they only cared about one thing.

Sex. Or they saw—fantasized about—me as some project.

Something they could fix to have potential and be a version of something only they could love. Something that could love them back.

With Olivia, I wasn’t a challenge or a problem to be repaired.

I never felt like she was trying to fix me, even though I’m beyond broken.

She cared for me despite my flaws and always looked at me as if she understood.

With her, I want to be better, even though I know I’ll never measure up to be someone she deserves.

But I love her.

I’ve never loved anyone before, and it scares the absolute shit out of me. No one has ever wormed their way into my heart like she has. And she didn’t even try.

From the moment I set eyes on her I knew she was special. I was hooked the second those honey-colored eyes met mine and she gave me a smile. Then I found out how smart, sweet, funny, caring—how perfect—she is.

I feel like Olivia McCausland was made for me. That she walked into my life to steal my heart, only to break it. But maybe I deserve it.

Because I don’t deserve her.

Olivia and I are total opposites. She’s the sweet girl next door with the perfect life and family, while I’m the angry, messed-up son of a bitch with mommy issues who couldn’t keep it in his pants. But somehow we’re like magnets, two polar opposites attracted to each other by force, like it or not.

I sit on the floor for hours, staring up at the popcorn ceiling until the sun starts to set, lost in my own dark, self-loathing, and pitiful thoughts.

Finally, I manage to get up to get some proper blood flow back to my body, my limbs stiff and my ass sore from sitting on the floor for so long.

I scrub a hand over my face, moving down to my chest, rubbing there too.

Trying to ease the pain. But the thought of losing her crashes into my mind again, making me restless.

I pace around my room, every second ticking by, making me jittery, making me long for her even more. Picking up my phone, I feel a pang of hurt in my chest when I look at the screen to find no new messages and her face as my wallpaper, smiling back at me.

Fuck this.

Determination sparks inside me, and I realize my pity party is over. If I want her, I have to fight for her.

Slipping on my jacket and shoes, I snatch the keys to my bike lying on my desk and head out to the parking lot. Putting on my helmet, I swing my leg over the motorcycle and rev the engine, then race onto the street.

The cold wind slaps my face and bites into my bare hands, but I ignore it, too fixated on where I’m going and what I’m about to do to care.

I pull into her subdivision, my engine rumbling loudly on the quiet suburban streets.

My heart pounds as I approach her house and park my bike in front of the mailbox.

I take off my helmet and get off the bike, staring at her front door.

I glance to the left, into the living room windows to see the lights on behind the curtains; it’s only a little past seven.

With a shaky breath, I walk up her driveway to the front door. To my surprise, running purely on adrenaline, I knock without hesitation, not pausing to fully collect or mentally prepare myself.

I shift my weight anxiously from foot to foot, waiting for her to answer the door. Shoving my cold hands into the pockets of my jeans, I stand off to the side so she can’t peek through any of the windows to see me and dodge me.

After a few very long moments, I hear the knob rattle and the front door opens.

I sidestep in front of the door to find Mr. McCausland staring back at me.

His face shows his surprise to find me on his doorstep unannounced, but nonetheless, he smiles, his eyes sparkling with fondness. “Hey, Bronx. What brings you here?”

He steps back from the door frame, his body language welcoming and clearly relaxed, which I’m thankful for. I guess Olivia hasn’t filled her parents in on recent events, because I have a feeling if she had, there wouldn’t be any pleasantries.

Mr. McCausland isn’t the type of man to threaten my life with a shotgun if I dare to hurt his daughter, but he wouldn’t be pleasant either. Rightfully so, there would be some sort of resentment or hostility.

I clear my throat. “Hi, sir. Is Olivia home?”

His lips turn down into a remorseful frown. “Sorry, son. You just missed her.”

My shoulders deflate. “Do you know where she went?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound too desperate.

“She’s going over to Cora’s for dinner tonight.”

I blink, racking my brain for what day it is. “But it’s Wednesday.”

Olivia’s weekly dinners with Cora are always on Tuesdays.

He gives me a small smile. “They switched up nights so you guys could study last night for your final.”

My heart squeezes at the realization that she did skip dinner with Cora last night—something she never misses—so we could study together for our lab final. But she did for me.

Fuck.

Sensing my guilt, Mr. McCausland continues. “It’s okay,” he assures me. “It’s actually an anniversary for Cora today. So it worked out that they did dinner tonight instead.”

I nod, some of my guilt subsiding. “Her and Olivia are pretty close, huh?”

He smiles fondly. “Yeah. Cora’s a good family friend. Olivia and her daughter were very close.”

I can sense a shift in his mood, the way his face turns solemn, smile timid.

“Oh. I didn’t know Cora had a daughter.”

Olivia never mentioned it. I just thought Cora was someone she met while shadowing at the hospital and that’s as far as their connection ran.

He nods, hesitant. “Yeah, that’s actually why Olivia is with her tonight. It’s, uh—it’s the anniversary of her daughter’s death.”

My face blanches, and my stomach knots.

He swipes his hand over his mouth uncomfortably, smoothing out his mustache afterward.

“It’s been a number of years since she passed, and Olivia’s been helping Cora cope.

It’s just Cora by herself since her daughter is gone, so Olivia spends time with her frequently to make sure she doesn’t get too lonely.

I think she sees Olivia as a second daughter,” he informs me, voice thick with emotion.

There’s a deep sadness in his eyes, but I also see the sparkle of adoration, how proud he is of his daughter for being that outlet for Cora.

Oh, Finch . Once again, proving why she’s too good for me. Too good for anyone.

“Wow,” I whisper, really not knowing what to say now.

Mr. McCausland nods and we stand in silence for a moment, him reminiscing and me absorbing this new information.

He shakes his head, seemingly clearing his thoughts before squaring his shoulders, his usual charismatic demeanor returning. “Yeah. I’m sorry you missed her, but I’ll let her know you stopped by.”

I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it, sir. I’ll just catch her tomorrow.”

“You sure? I mean, you’re more than welcome to come in if you want and wait for her. I’m not sure how long she’ll be, she’ll probably be out late, but there’s a game on that I’m going to watch if you want to stay,” he offers politely.

I give him an appreciative smile, respectfully declining his offer.

I’m sure after the day she’s had, the last thing Olivia will want to do when she gets home is to see me and hash things out.

She’s already had such an emotionally taxing day that I don’t want to send her over the edge, ruining any sliver of a chance I may still have left with her.

And I definitely don’t want to seem like the domineering boyfriend who can’t let her breathe, especially to her parents.

“No, thanks, Mr. McCausland. I’ll catch her tomorrow,” I repeat, backing away from the door. “Have a nice night.”

“All right, Bronx. You too.”

He watches me from the doorway as I walk down the driveway and hop on my bike.

I drive back to campus, my chest tight and mind racing a million miles an hour. While I may not have gotten what I wanted to get accomplished tonight, I know there’s always tomorrow. Even if the wait kills me.

My fight isn’t over yet. I’m going to fight for her with everything I have in me tomorrow morning, first thing.