unDefeated

  unDefeated

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  J.C. VALENTINE

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  Spencer Bradley ruins everything he touches. Addicted to gambling, he’s lied, cheated, and stolen to get what he wants. Now, in order to protect those he cares for, he’s keeping his distance. Rehab’s taught him a lot, but when his time runs out and he finds himself with nowhere to turn, he seeks help from the one person he’s capable of destroying.

  Olivia Carter fell in love the day she met Spencer Bradley. Despite him being responsible for the downfall of his best friend’s career and landing himself in rehab, she can’t bring herself to stay away—even if it means risking her own recovery.

  ONE

  Addiction comes in many forms—alcohol, drugs, sex. Spencer Bradley’s drug of choice was gambling. Having placed his first bet at the age of thirteen at a dog fight he’d attended with his good old pops, and won, it’d been his thing. A source of easy money, an out in any sticky situation he might find himself in. It was always the solution, even when it was the problem. It was all he knew. So how did a person like him suddenly change his entire outlook, his entire thought process, overnight?

  “It’s going to take a lot of hard work and patience.” The female psych doc answered Spencer’s musings so accurately, he wondered, not for the first time, if she was actually in his head, or if she was just that damn good at her job.

  Slouching further down in the taupe microfiber chair, he stared at the beige walls decorated with degrees and awards before turning his bored stare on her. “And if I don’t have any of those characteristics?”

  Her kind gray-blue eyes—so much like Jami’s coach, Don—smiled warmly back at him. “Why do you think you don’t have any?”

  Answering a question with a question. Spencer huffed humorlessly and laced his fingers over his stomach. Tilting his head to the side, he regarded her curiously. “Do you like your job? I mean, do you get off on driving your patients wacko by talking in circles?”

  Dr. O’Valley had young hands for an older chick, and he watched with little interest as she folded them over the tablet on her lap, all prim and proper like. The skin around her fine-boned fingers was a healthy pale peach and her nails were done up with that acrylic shit Liv always talked about wanting but could never afford.

  Fucking hell, he missed her. He’d been in the treatment facility how long? Four and a half weeks? A little over a month, and he felt every second of it. There wasn’t a day that passed by that he didn’t entertain thoughts of jumping out a window. But then he’d lose her for good, wouldn’t he?

  He and Liv had been splitsville for a while. Jami had sacrificed his career to save Spencer’s ass—something that killed him a little bit more every day. Spencer knew the first and only step toward making things right again was to get his head right.

  It was a fucking uphill battle. A person didn’t change with the snap of a finger. It was one hell of an arduous process. Whoever said an old dog couldn’t be taught new tricks was onto something. Every time he thought he had his shit together, that little voice in the back of his head would whisper seductively in his ear. If he hadn’t checked himself into the facility, he had no doubt nothing would have changed.

  Hell, he wasn’t entirely sure anything had. Behind four walls with people guiding him through every step of the day, it was easy to shut down the voices and ignore the urges. The true test would come when he returned to the real world, minus Doc O’Valley’s crutch. Until then, he was toxic to everyone and everything he touched.

  “Are you still with me, Spencer?” O’Valley’s ultra-mellow, gritty voice that was no doubt the result of a pack-a-day habit brought Spencer out of his thoughts. He blinked at her, a touch of a smile making his lips twitch. Even the doctors in this place weren’t without their vices.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m listening,” he said, clearing his throat and sitting up in his seat.

  She smiled warmly. “Good, because I was wondering if today might be the day you’d like to share why you’re here. It’s been over a month—your time here is almost up—and you still haven’t told me what brought you to this point.”

  As if he didn’t count the days. Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “I told you. I have a gambling problem.”

  “Yes, but what, precisely, drove you to the point where you knew you needed to get help? Was it a friend, a lover, family member? Everyone has their reason for coming here, and I’d like to know what yours is.”

  Shifting in his seat, Spencer stared at the degrees over her head. It shouldn’t be so difficult, but for whatever reason, he just couldn’t say the words. He’d already admitted that he had a problem, which was the first step to recovery, right? Why did she have to keep pushing him for more?

  “Sorry, Doc, but I’m just not ready for all that. Are we done here?” He didn’t feel like talking anymore. The thoughts running through his head had twisted him up, and he needed space and time to think, especially today—without Doc’s astute gaze fastened on him.

  Wiggling an expensive silver pen back and forth between her fingers, she regarded him in that shrewd, assessing way of hers. Frankly, it unnerved him, made him feel as if she were looking straight through him, digging into all of his hidden places—places he never showed anyone.

  “Sure. Your hour’s up anyway.” Spencer jumped to his feet, relief flooding him, only to be halted on his way to the door. “Your homework for tonight is to write in your journal. I want you to explore one important relationship and write down any positives that come to mind.”

  It was like being in high school all over again. Well, from what he remembered when he actually showed up, that is. Should be easy enough. His emotions were fucking raw today.

  With his hand on the doorknob, Spencer gave her a two-finger salute. “Will do, Doc.”

  Passing a row of chairs, he ignored everyone and everything as he breezed out of the office. There was never a greater freedom than the one he experienced when he was dismissed from one of his sessions. It always felt as though he were a prisoner, his gray matter being picked apart with a pair of shiny silver tweezers.

  The closer he came to his room, the faster his feet moved down the carpeted hallway. Sweeping through the open door, he acknowledged his roommate with a lift of his chin, grabbed his half-empty pack of cigarettes, and practically ran for the exit. No way in hell he was in the mood to get sucked into another nausea-inducing conversation with the guy.

  Swapping one addiction for another, he thought as he packed the fresh pack into his palm. Getting treatment for one addiction, while feeding a new one. Spencer chose to ignore the irony of that as he tore away the plastic wrapping, placed a cigarette between his lips with trembling hands, and lit up.

  Inside, a droning voice sounded over the loudspeakers, announcing weekly visitations. Hearing his name through the cotton in his ears, he ignored it. His chest ached and his heart pounded furiously. He inhaled deeply and in quick succession the first few times, until calm washed over him, then leaned back against the brick façade and closed his eyes.

  Some people hated Mondays.

  Spencer hated Thursdays.

  All of those people, the patients, and their families, were kidding themselves if they thought this experience was making their lives better. The fact was addiction was one cruel bitch. There wasn’t a soul in that place that could escape her evil clutches, and anyone who tried to say different was lying through their rotting teeth. Addictive personalities didn’t just stop being that way because they poured their heart and soul out to someone with a handful of degrees on their wall. All they did was exchange one addiction for another.

  Half the people living under that roof with him were smokers, and if they didn’t smoke, they had some other socia
lly acceptable vice—chocolate, pop, shopping. Sex. Deflection was the name of the game, and Spencer was well on his way to becoming a master player. And that just meant they were all one step away from falling right back into the hole.

  TWO

  Olivia stood in line, patiently awaiting her turn. She didn’t know why she kept coming here. It made her downright uncomfortable. The pale blue walls, dingy gray carpet dotted with random spots of blackened gum. Everyone here looked sad and broken, and they were just visiting. She wondered if she looked that way, too. Places like this…they had a way of sucking the life out of you.

  “Next.” The security guard waved her forward with a bored expression. She dropped her purse down in front of him, and then stepped through the metal detector. A second guard waited for her on the other side, and she raised her arms as he passed a wand over her clothing. This was what she would expect in a prison. Or at an airport. After he had finished, she was directed to a table where a clipboard and pen waited for her, and she signed in.

  “Enjoy your visit,” the guard said.

  Retrieving her purse, she approached the heavy, nondescript white door and waited for the buzzer to sound. A moment later, it cranked slowly open and she passed inside.

  Spencer wasn’t a criminal, she reminded herself, but that didn’t make his situation any better. His addiction had brought him here, to a place that felt more like an insane asylum than a treatment facility. Frankly, she didn’t know how anyone could get better here, but it was what he needed, and what she needed was to support him.

  Spencer’s gambling had cost him everything—his friends, his family. Her. She knew he regretted his decisions, and she couldn’t bring herself to punish him when he was already punishing himself for all that he’d done. Everyone needed a friend, and she had to believe that if the tables were reversed, he’d do the same for her.

  The family room was only half-full, leaving plenty of tables open to choose from. Selecting one along the perimeter, Olivia sat down and cast her attention around the room. There were children here. Mothers, fathers, grandparents—all waiting for a chance to see their loved ones. Just like her. The biggest difference between her and them, however, was they were actually wanted here.

  Through the glass partition, she watched the line of patients being paraded into the room, trying to pick out Spencer’s face in the crowd. She hadn’t seen him since he became a patient and wondered how much he had changed. Would he be thinner? Unshaven? Healthy? Longing to see him, just a glimpse, always threatened to consume her whenever she came here, but as with the last four visits, Spencer hadn’t shown.

  With only a week left to go in his treatment, she wondered where he planned to go when he got out. Did he have someone ready to take him in? Not knowing filled her with worry.

  Damn him. Why did he keep shutting her out? He knew she was there, knew she wanted to see him, to talk to him, to offer whatever support she could, and he never showed. Not once. All around her, families reunited, and she sat alone. The orderlies probably pitied her by now, the girl who kept coming, even though she clearly wasn’t wanted.

  With a heavy heart, Olivia looped her purse over her shoulder and walked out. As she signed her name on the chart with her in and out times less than ten minutes apart, she had to resist the urge to make excuses for him. She was always making excuses for Spencer, whether to other people or just herself.

  The fact was, no matter how he had treated her and how they ended, she still cared about him. Probably more than she should. No, scratch that. Definitely more than she should, because it was obvious the feelings weren’t mutual. Why else would Spencer ignore her so completely? He didn’t even have the decency to tell her to her face. But the silence said everything he wouldn’t pretty clearly.

  Stopping by the front desk, she made her final deposit, adding the tip money she’d saved up that week to his account. Even if he didn’t love her anymore, she couldn’t justify leaving him in there with no way of buying personal items. She would still be his friend until he told her otherwise. And it didn’t look like he intended to talk to her anytime soon.

  Now, she just needed to stop torturing herself. She needed to move on, but how did a person move forward without their other half?

  THREE

  “Normal people date.” Olivia sat on the floor in the middle of her best friend’s living room, folding a mound of infant wear. It was so surreal, watching Ally plow through life, everything in its place. Her future was truly bright, unlike Olivia’s, which felt like it had a perpetual dark cloud hovering over it. “How are you going to find a date if you refuse to get out there and look?”

  Olivia picked up a onesie that read “I get my right hook from daddy” and began folding it. “Honestly, I don’t know if I’m ready to start dating yet.”

  “Well, if you don’t pick a date to go with you to the wedding, I’ll have to set you up with one of the guys from the gym. I’ll warn you ahead of time, I’ve told them all about you, and they’re eager to please if you know what I mean.” Ally’s brown eyebrows wiggled playfully.

  “Seriously? Stop telling those freaks stuff about me,” Olivia laughed. “They’re all a bunch of hormonal teenagers looking for a piece of ass.”

  “So, does that mean you’ll get out there and find yourself a suitable escort? The wedding is only a month away.”

  “I told you,” Olivia said with a sigh. “I don’t know about dating anyone right now. Spencer was it for me, you know? If I have to, I’ll go stag. It’s not a big deal.”

  Reaching over, Ally laid her hand over Olivia’s. “You know I wish things had gone differently for you two.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Dropping her gaze, Olivia focused on folding clothes rather than the pity and judgment in her friend’s eyes.

  “How did the visit go today? Is he still ignoring you?”

  “Not well, and yes, every time, like clockwork.”

  Ally tsked under her breath and huffed, “What is wrong with that guy?” After a moment to collect her thoughts, she leaned back, propping herself on her hands, and extended her legs out. “I can’t say that I’m not relieved. After everything…”

  Her silence suggested she was biting her tongue. Lord knew Olivia had already heard it all already anyway. Another time would be akin to beating a dead horse.

  “I’m just relieved. Spencer has a lot to atone for, and I don’t want him hurting you anymore than he already has.”

  “Yeah, well…” Olivia shrugged. She loved that Ally cared so much about her well-being, but she was tired of talking about it. Being reminded that her love life was in the toilet while Ally’s was fairy-tale perfect was depressing. She was happy for her friend, but she couldn’t help being a little jealous of her life. She had an amazing fiancé and a baby on the way. Who wouldn’t be envious?

  “Is he still getting out next week?”

  “As far as I know.” It was impossible to stay up-to-date on his progress when he wouldn’t talk to her. She was just going on the general information she’d gotten from the receptionist when she’d inquired about the typical length of a patient’s stay.

  Ally sighed. She knew the story all too well. “Well, I think you need to move on. At least promise me you’ll try. One date and I’ll leave you alone about it. I just don’t want to see you wasting so much time and energy on someone who doesn’t appreciate you. You deserve so much better than that.”

  “I’m just trying to be a good friend,” Olivia muttered.

  “I know you are, sweetie. I just think it would be better for you if you focused a little more on your happiness and less on his. Spencer needs to clean up his own life, and I hate to say it, but I’m not convinced he wants you to be a part of it.”

  Tears stung her eyes, and Olivia discarded the tiny sweater vest she’d been holding. “He’s such a bastard, you know?”

  Picking herself up, Ally knelt in front of her and wrapped her arms around Olivia’s shoulders. “I know, sweetie, but that’s his malfunc
tion, not yours. You’re too good for him.”

  “No, I’m not,” Olivia sniffed. Pulling away, she dried her eyes with the back of her hand. Ally didn’t know her past. If she did, she wouldn’t have said that. “Spencer’s just lost. He needs time to get healthy.”

  “Yes, he does. But in the meantime…” Ally’s eyes flashed and she grinned.

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll go out on a date!”

  Clapping her hands, Ally cheered. “You are so not going to regret this.”

  “Famous last words.”

  ***

  Ally didn’t waste any time. Since Olivia wasn’t sure where to start, Ally all but threw a man at her feet. Well, her doorstep anyway. Olivia sat across from Mike Vermouth, one of Jami’s friends and someone Ally assured her was a real “stand-up guy,” in one of the city’s oldest establishments located on the lower east side.

  Mike wasn’t classically handsome. His lips were a little too thin for her taste, his eyes a little too round, and his nose a little too crooked. Despite his looks, she found herself enjoying his company. Mike was a real down-to-earth kind of guy, and the restaurant he brought her to was a perfect complement to his character. It was warm, inviting, and screamed family-owned.

  Olivia had spent the afternoon agonizing over what to wear, and ended up going for a flirty, sexy look. Now, though, she felt extremely overdressed in the knee-length pencil skirt and white sleeveless blouse. When Mike showed up in his blue jeans, black sweater, and work boots, she had asked him if she should change, but he assured her the outfit was perfect. Looking around at all the people in casual attire, she kind of hated him.

  “So, besides, beating people up, what do you do for a living?” Olivia asked as she sipped her glass of water.

  He laughed. “That’s just for fun. It helps blow off some steam at the end of the day. In real life, I’m a stockbroker. I trade and sell stocks.”