of it, and I want no part of it. He’s talking about surgeries already. More surgeries that will only lead to more complications and more scars.”
I hear a sniffle on the other end of the line, and I slam my eyes shut. “You’re going to die if you don’t take care of yourself, Olivia. Do you understand?”
Pain bleeds from my mother’s voice, prompting tears to roll down my cheeks.
Doesn’t she realize I know that? I’m on borrowed time, but I’m tired of living my life with so much caution. It doesn’t even feel like a life at all.
“I’ll keep going.” I sigh. She makes me promise that I’ll FaceTime her at my next appointment, so she knows I’m not lying.
The woman knows me too well.
Needing to keep myself busy, after the depressing phone call and the visit to the doctor that was like a slap back to reality, I pull into my driveway with a trunk full of ready to plant tulips and soil. I’ve heard gardening is cathartic, and I need that in my life right now. I’m even thinking about taking up yoga or meditation. Lord knows I need it.
Sure, gardening is a lot of dirty work, but I can do it. Plus, I’ve picked most, if not all, the weeds from the front lawn, so it looks better. Now I just need to add some water and bring the grass back to life.
Outside of the fence that leads into my backyard, just below the living room window, I get to work, readying the soil and planting the bulbs. Sweat trickles down my back, and my shoulders are already aching from the work and being hunched over. When I push up to my feet, my knees scream in protest, and I take a step back to survey my handiwork. My gaze roams over the beautiful flowers, and I can’t help but smile. I plan to plant more, maybe even add some flowers around the rest of the house, but this is enough for now.
It’s enough to help me forget that I don’t have the luxury most people do, and I am going to find the beauty in life, even if I don’t have forever to do that.
The next morning, I wake up in a far more chipper mood than I had the previous day. I go about my morning, getting ready and dressed for work, just like I normally would. As I’m on my way out of the house, a thrill enters my chest when I glance at my tulips, but that elation, suddenly, shrivels and dies. The small grin I’ve been wearing all morning slides off my face, and my brows crease together in a frown.
“What the…?”
The flowers that I painstakingly planted yesterday, in the hot, sun are trampled. There’s literally only one that is left standing at an odd angle. The rest of them are stomped to death, the stems broken and the petals crushed to absolute shit.
Dropping my purse and lunch onto the ground, I run to the flowers, the word, “No, no, no,” falling from my lips in quick succession. I skid to my knees in my scrubs and try to help the flowers stand back upright, but they’re dead. All that hard work, all that color I put into my front lawn. It’s done. All for nothing.
What the hell happened?
Just as I’m taking a closer look at the shoeprints stamped on the flowers, I hear the garage next door open. My heart squeezes, and something dark and cold slithers through my chest. It’s at odds with the fury boiling in my gut. Slowly, I crane my neck to the side, watching as Roman rolls out his bike. Those big, bulky biker boots are on his feet. I look back down at my flowers, and my gaze narrows.
That son of a bitch.
Shooting to my feet, I storm across our lawns, smoke damn near billowing from my ears. Red seeps into my vision. A growl rips from my chest, just as Roman glances my way. He pauses, with his helmet hovering over his head, his brows pulling down, as he watches me storm toward him. I can feel my emotions bubbling to the surface alongside my rage. That’s always happened, even when I was kid. When I got so angry, I’d cry. And I refuse to cry in front of this shithead and let him get to me.
“How dare you!” I hiss, shoving at his shoulder that feels like steel. His lips press together, and