Page 37 of The Recovery Coach
“A savings account separate from your partner where you ideally save enough money to leave whatever crappy situation you might find yourself in.Whether that be a toxic job, or a relationship, or a living situation.Enough money to say ‘fuck you,’ and walk away.”
“You have a secret account Mark doesn’t know about?”Their marriage had always seemed perfect.Olivia couldn’t imagine a scenario in which Christina left him.
“He knows about it, but yes, I have one.He’s funded it over the years.”
She hated feeling like she was being handed the world.But Christina had a point.Lance had screwed her over.Having some savings and a back-up plan didn’t sound like a bad idea.And the money Connor paid her paled in comparison to his salary.He wouldn’t notice the cost, but she would gain the freedom.In this one instance, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to swallow her pride and let a friend help her out.
“How do I start one?”she asked.
Christina spent an hour explaining a bunch of different personal finance concepts to Olivia.She helped her open a high-yield savings account and offered to help her build a budget when she was ready to find an apartment of her own.
When Olivia finally hung up, she felt more in control of her life than she ever had before.
Chapter 14
Hazy
Hazystoodinfrontof the full-length mirror in his bathroom.He looked as disheveled as he felt.Even with his brace still on, anyone could see he’d lost a significant amount of muscle mass already.Bruises were evident under his arms where his crutches rubbed, and beneath some parts of his leg brace.Dark rings circled his eyes.His face needed a shave.
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.He’d rocked a beard a few times in the past, but it wasn’t his preference, and he needed to feel human again.With a broken leg, a forced rest from his job, a new housemate, and his teammates gone for the next week, Hazy’s life felt out of control; but his facial hair he could shape to his will.
He leaned his crutches against the jack-and-jill sinks and coated his face in shaving cream.Then he realized he’d forgotten a razor.He rinsed his hands of the excess shaving cream, then reached for his crutches.They slipped through his fingers and clattered to the ground.The brace on his leg made it impossible to bend his knee.He swept his bad leg behind him and reached toward the fallen crutches, but wobbled.Trying to catch his balance, he grabbed the bathroom counter.His flailing met a slick surface.He lost his footing and fell to the side.
His head smacked against the bowl of the toilet, and he lay there dazed and frustrated.
A knock came at the bathroom door, but before he could shout that he was okay, Livy swung it open.
She wore black boy-short panties and an oversized tank top that barely contained her cleavage, hair ratted in a mess around her face.He’d woken her.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
She rubbed her eyes and yawned.
“I asked if you needed help and you said no.”
Livy had been keeping Hazy company while he showered since his injury, always sitting on his counter or the toilet and chattering away about her day while ensuring he didn’t slip and die.That evening he insisted he could attend to his hygiene independently.
Hazy groaned and flung an arm over his face, muffling his answer.“I wanted to do it myself.”
Livy mumbled something under her breath that sounded like ‘fucking idiot’ as she helped him into a seated position to pull him to his feet.When he was standing and steady, she closed the toilet lid and wordlessly directed him to sit.
He obeyed without argument.If he protested, she’d be more pissed.
Livy swept his hair out of his face and spread more shaving cream over the patches that had wiped away when he fell.When she went searching for a razor, Hazy pointed out the correct drawer.She used a gentle hand on his forehead to tilt his head back.
“Why do you still shave like this?”she asked.“You could get one of those electric razors.Way easier.”
“I’ve tried like ten different ones, and I still feel prickly.The manual razor works better.”
She swiped the razor down his face, then rinsed it.Hazy had never let someone else shave his face for him, but he liked it.Normally he would balk at someone helping him.He knew it wasn’t like that killer barber musical, since razors weren’t a single unprotected blade anymore.But someone could still nick him.He closed his eyes while she worked.Swipe after swipe removed the hair and shaving cream from his face, and her soft touch on his forehead directed his position.
Livy felt like coming home, and he was exhausted.The smell of coconut wafted over him, a hint of the body wash she’d been using since adolescence.He let himself drift into his own thoughts as she finished.She stepped away for a moment.When she returned, she draped a warm, wet rag over his face.Her dragging of the washcloth over his face had him opening his eyes.The spectacular view of tits greeted him so, so close to his face.
His hand floated between them, intending to tweak a hard nipple before he remembered where he was.Whohe was with.Fuck.Looking down her shirt was such a violation of privacy.Even if he hadn’t meant to.He snatched his hand back and cleared his throat.
“Thank you,” he said.
He forced his eyes to her face.
