A Protector's Second Chance (Unit Matched #2)

by Mary Smith

  I watched him unpack the groceries. He had bought a little bit of everything.

  “I didn’t know what you liked, so I sort of guessed.” He began putting everything away.

  When he was finished, he turned to me, and smiled. Of course, I glared at him. His expression faded and he stared back.

  “I got you a present.” He didn’t sound as cheerful as he had been when he’d walked in.

  Oliver walked over to the last bag on the table. It rustled as he pulled out five composition notebooks and several packs of pen.

  “I figured you would need these to survive,” he half joked with me.

  There was a lump in my throat. How had he known? He might have seen my notebook, but how had he known that I needed them so badly. It was sweet that he’d thought of me.

  Oliver pushed the pile in front of me. I didn’t speak. I didn’t even say ‘thank you’. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t, I was in shock; I couldn’t. Besides Xaviera and Gia, no one had ever willingly given me a gift.

  My thoughts broke when he slammed the pot down on the stove. He banged and clanged around the kitchen.

  “You know,” he spun around and tried to pin me with his eyes. I knew instantly he was mad. I could see the shimmer. “I know that we are both here for different reasons, but I thought you would at least talk to me.”

  I stared back.

  “This is how it’s going to be?”

  My mouth remained shut.

  “Amaya?”

  Silence.

  “Seriously.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “You know, I want this to work. Do you understand that? I want my Matched to like me, talk to me, and let us be in a relationship together.”

  I stared at him.

  “Forget it,” he threw his hands up. “If you want to spend the next three months this way, then,” he stopped.

  We continued to stare at each other, not saying anything. Oliver was the first to move. He shook his head and walked out of the kitchen.

  I picked at the corner of one of the composition book and looked at the pens. They were an assortment of colors. Normally, I loved getting new pens, but I didn’t this time.

  I gathered everything up and went back to my room. I curled up in the nook and opened my new writing utensils.

  Day 7

  I guess my parents didn’t lie to me when they called me selfish and spiteful. Dad always said I would be bad Protector because I needed to put Xaviera first.

  I guess he was right because here I am, Oliver is trying to be nice, and I don’t care.

  Yep, selfish and spiteful.

  Chapter 6

  Day 10 of 90

  It has been three days, and I hadn’t left my room. Oliver brought me food but he just slammed it down and left.

  Mother Nature must have had a bigger plan for me, because if I had been her, I would have whipped up a tornado and shipped my butt to another planet.

  It was late in the afternoon and I was re-reading my late night ramblings I had sprawled out on the white paper. I felt bad for Oliver. He hadn’t done anything wrong, yet he had been punished, too. That wasn’t fair to him. No matter what had happened to me, Oliver was a decent guy.

  I knew in my heart I should apologize for everything; I knew I needed to make it up to in some way. The question was what, when, and how.

  When I went downstairs, the living room had been changed around. Oliver had added a long table on the far side of the wall. There were three computer screens on it, and he was sitting on a bench. He was typing on the keyboard, and I watched him for a moment.

  Oliver was very good looking; I wasn’t blind to that fact. His dark brown hair was shaggy and was always messy, and it seemed like he did it on purpose. Oliver’s jaw was strong, and there was a small dimple at the edge of his chin.

  “I’m going to make dinner.” I announced to him.

  He didn’t even look at me when he said, “that’s fine.”

  I deserved that, and I knew it. I turned on my heels and went into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and stared at all the contents. I wasn’t sure what to make. I settled on hamburger when I saw the stove had a built-in grill.

  “Are you allergic to anything?” I shouted my question to him.

  “No,” he yelled back.

  I pulled out everything I needed, washed my hands, and got to work. I hadn’t cooked in a long time. It was my sister, Rebecca, who did that at our house. My parents always said my food sucked, although Xaviera and Gia never complained about it.

  I heard Oliver walk into the kitchen as I was finishing up.

  “It smells delicious.”

  “Thanks.” I placed several sweet potato fries on his plate and then on mine.

  “Do you need any help?”

  “If you want to grab something to drink, that’ll help.”

  He nodded and walked around me.

  “How about milk?” he suggested.

  “No.”

  “Soda?”

  “No.”

  “Then what do you want?” I could hear the frustration in his voice.

  “Water’s fine.”

  I finished plating our hamburgers and set everything on the table. Oliver fixed our glasses and sat down at the head of the table.

  “Wow, this looks good.”

  “Thanks.” I took a bite of the burger.

  We ate in silence, but a million things ran through my head. I needed to get it off my chest before I exploded.

  “Oliver.” I cleared my throat. “I wanted to let you know that I appreciate the last ten days.”

  He looked at me confused.

  “Is that your way of an apology?”

  “Look,” I snapped. “You have no clue what this is like for me.”

  “No, I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I’m not on your side.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “You’re my Matched. We’re meant to be together through thick and think. I’m always going to be there for you, Amaya.”

  “Please,” I sneered at him.

  “Look,” he raised his voice at me. “Don’t act like I’m the enemy here. I’m trying to, at least, make this work out.”

  “And after three months of being stuck in this cabin, then what? What if I’m banished? You get to go off and be Matched to someone new while I’m out on my ass.” I shouted at him.

  “That’s not my fault. You broke the Rules.” He slapped his hand on the table.

  “Well, I’m being held prisoner.” I jumped up from my chair, knocking it over.

  “That doesn’t mean you have you have to be a bitch,” he yelled back at me, and then quickly dropped his head.

  “I guess that’s my motto: I’m just a bitch.”

  He looked up at me, and I could see the sadness in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to say that.”

  “Forget it.” I waved my hand at him. “I guess I’ve always known what people thought of me.” I headed toward the stairs.

  It was the truth. Every citizen of Unit was always staring at me. I was louder than most, always spoke my mind, and didn’t care what others thought about me.

  “Stop.” Oliver grabbed my shoulder, and I winced in pain. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I lied, rolling my shoulder.

  “Here, let me see.”

  “No,” I moved away as he reached for me. “I hurt myself training before I left. I’m fine,” I lied. There was no way I would tell him the truth.

  Oliver studied my face; he knew I was making it up.

  Finally, he nodded. “Okay.”

  I spun on my heels and headed back to my room.

  Chapter 7

  Day 12 of 90

  I was running on the treadmill, about to die, but I kept pushing myself. I finally couldn’t breathe anymore and slowed to a walk. I was trying not to think about anything, but that wasn’t working. My head kept going back to Oliver. He was being punished because of me. I had already been here twelve days, and he was rea
dy to pull his hair out.

  I was selfish.

  I was worthless.

  I needed to at least pretend that I wasn’t that big of a bitch.

  “Here,” Oliver appeared next to me and tossed a towel over the bar. “I thought you might want this.”

  I turned off the machine, patting my face with the towel. “Thanks.”

  He gave me a small smile. “I heard you down here, so I figured I’d be nice.”

  “Oliver.” I stepped closer to him. He and I were almost the same height. “I’m sorry.”

  The large, one hundred pound brick on my chest went away when I said those two little words. My head was still spinning with thoughts about him. I didn’t know how to express myself around him; it wasn’t as if we were friends or anything.

  Oliver wasn’t wrong when he called me a ‘bitch’. In fact, he was right, but it wasn’t his fault that I was a bitch or that I was being punished. Oliver had been nice to me.

  “What?”

  “Please don’t make me repeat it,” I begged in my whiny voice.

  He smirked at me, leaning in closer. “Apology accepted, only if you come watch a movie with me.”

  “Really? You’re going to stoop to blackmail?” I crossed my arms.

  “Unless you have other plans then I’m pretty sure you’ll say ‘yes’.”

  “Ugh,” I groaned at him. “Fine.” I stomped my way upstairs to shower and get ready.

  When I come back downstairs, Oliver had a big bowl of popcorn and a bottle of my favorite soda on the coffee table.

  “I thought we would watch one of my favorite movies.”

  He lifted up the Blu-Ray of Thor to show me.

  “Thor? Your punishment is to make me watch the ever-so-hot Chris Hemsworth?”

  “I’m not punishing you.” Oliver’s eyes were hard on me.

  I turned away from him and grabbed few kernels of popcorn. I knew he wasn’t the one that was punishing me. I watched him set up everything, before he sat down next to me.

  Of course, he wanted to be right next to me, and I inwardly rolled my eyes.

  I put the bowl in between our thighs, so I could make sure that they didn’t touch each other.

  “You know, Mom would buy me Thor comic books when I was little; he was my favorite.”

  I tried to think back if my mom had ever bought me a book. Sadly, the answer was ‘no’. She constantly told me she was required to clothe me, feed me, and that was it.

  I started babysitting to purchase the extras that I needed and then saved for my car. My parents helped me with nothing.

  I stared at the TV, but I wasn’t watching it. I wanted to get away from my childhood memories. I didn’t want to be in this cabin anymore. I really didn’t want to hear of Oliver’s great life, either.

  “Well, I guess I accept your apology.”

  “Huh?”

  “The movie is over. So, I accept your apology,” Oliver smirked.

  “Great.” I jumped up from the couch, raced up the stairs, and slammed the door shut.

  Chapter 8

  Day 13 of 90

  I punched the bag harder. I was still a horrible person, and it had to be in my DNA because I couldn’t stop it.

  I felt the anger building in me. It made me push myself hard. The pain in my right shoulder made my mind wander back to when it first happened:

  “Stop being a little sissy.” Dad yelled at me. “Hit harder.”

  My ears rang from his booming command, and I did what he told me.

  “You’re worthless. How are you going to protect the future Queen if you can’t even throw a punch hard enough to stop someone?”

  I felt the air knocked out of me when he punched me hard in my stomach. I fell to the floor; when Dad jerked me up, he dislocated my shoulder.

  I screamed and Mom came down and yelled for me to shut up.

  “Protector’s don’t show pain.” She spat, in my face.

  I took a step away from the bag. I pushed the tears of the memory down. I was only eight when that happened and I still it as if was yesterday. Over the years, it was injured more and more. When I work it too much, I can feel the dull ache.

  Yep, I was worthless if it still bothered me, because I should be stronger.

  I left the workout room and headed for the shower.

  When I was refreshed, changed, and smelled better, I grabbed my journal. I was going to sit in the nook, but instead I went back downstairs.

  Oliver was sitting in front of the computers, typing, and clicking away. I curled up on the couch, ready to write.

  However, nothing was coming. My eyes kept staring at the back of Oliver’s brown hair. He hadn’t even acknowledged that I was in the same room yet.

  I really shouldn’t be surprised. I hadn’t been nice to him at all. I was sure he couldn’t wait for these three months to be over so he could be rid of me.

  “You can stop staring at me; I know you’re there.” Oliver’s voice was hard.

  “I wasn’t.” I lied.

  He turned around, pinning me with a stern look. “You really don’t have to lie to me; you know that, right?”

  I crossed my arms. “Who said I was?”

  Oliver shook his head and turned back to his computer.

  Geesh, I was a bitch.

  Oliver was the only person I had to talk to. There was no one else, and it was my fault.

  “What are you working on?” I asked, hoping to have some type of adult conversation.

  “I’m developing a new web page for one of my clients.”

  “Clients?”

  “I do work, Amaya.”

  Sad to say, I didn’t know that. Oliver had taken me out a few times, but I hadn’t listened to a thing that he had said.

  “Could I see?”

  It took him a second, but soon he nodded, and I walked over to him. He slid down the bench and I sat next to him.

  “Wow.” I breathed, looking at the screens. “You have some real talent.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

  I rolled my eyes and didn’t answer him. I was trying to be nice, but I wasn’t going to explain it to him.

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  “Really,” he sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “I’ve been messing with computers forever, but I started getting paid for it about two years ago. Then,” he shrugged, “I figured I’d start my own business.”

  “That’s really interesting.”

  “You know what else is interesting?” he stared at me.

  I shook my head.

  “I have told you that exact story at least four times.”

  I inhaled through my teeth. I should have paid better attention on our dates.

  “Okay,” I threw my hands up in the air. “I’m not going to win Matched of the Year, but I’m trying to be nice, now.”

  “I guess.” Oliver mumbled, focusing on the computer screens.

  I knew that no matter what I did; it wouldn’t make him happy. I knew I hadn’t told him a lot about me. So, maybe I should start there.

  “My major is computer engineering. I dabbled in some coding and design, but I love taking the computer apart and seeing all the bits and pieces inside. I’ve always been that way. I once took apart my grandmother’s toaster just to figure out how my toast came out perfectly brown every time. She wasn’t really happy with me, but she didn’t tell my parents that I broke it.”

  I was thankful for that.

  “Do you miss school?”

  “Actually, I do.” Since I had been sent to the cabin, I’d had to withdraw from the semester. I hated to do that, but I had to. I still didn’t know what was going to happen, so I couldn’t register for the next semester. My future was still unknown, and I disliked that part the most.

  “Do you miss Unit?” His question was soft, but I knew he was fishing for information.

  “I miss my girls, most of all. Other than that,” I shrugged my answer, saying without saying th
at I couldn't care less about anyone else.

  Oliver didn’t push for more details. He returned his focus to his computer screens, clicking away on the mouse.

  “I’m going to bed.” I got up, before he could say anything, and headed back upstairs.

  Chapter 9

  Day 14 of 90

  “I think you’re intentionally trying to hurt me.” Oliver kept blocking my shot, but I had connected with his shoulder a few times.

  “What?” I stepped back from my attack position and fake gasped. “How could you say something like that, Oliver?”

  He rolled his eyes at me. “Really? I don’t know why. Maybe because you’re trying to break my arm.”

  I gave him a small smile. “I promise I’m not trying to do that. Remember, we’re equals.”

  “I’m beginning to wonder.”

  My smile deepened as we went back into position. Oliver easily blocked every punch, swing, and even a couple of kicks. I tried with all my might, but he was as quick as I was.

  “Being equals sucks.” I panted, dropping my arms.

  Oliver chuckled. “Do you want to stop?”

  “I think I’ve had enough for today.” I shook off my gloves.

  If my parents had heard me say that, I wouldn’t have made it up the stairs.

  “I think that’s the best sparring match I’ve had in a while.” Oliver took off his gloves. I handed him mine, and he put them both away in the closet.

  “Well, you are with the best.” I joked, trying to sound like I was still a Protector of the Royal bloodline.

  “Yes, I am.”

  I ignored him and walked over to where I’d set my towel and bottle of water. I wasn’t sure how to take his overly positive attitude. Although, I was feeling pretty good.

  I patted my face with the towel and realized that I had sweated a lot more than I’d thought. I knew I probably didn’t smell very good either. My T-shirt was clinging to me. I took it off, releasing the heat from my skin.

  “Amaya.”

  I knew that tone. I took my T-shirt and he doesn’t like it. Oliver had used it on me once before when we were in New York and I had taken off my jacket.