Chapter 29 A Cautionary Keepsake
I wake up with a hollow ache reaching deep into my gut, and it doesn’t feel like anything will fill me back up again. Although, I suppose the thought of seeing Mason around the house today fills me with dread, so there’s that.
Oliver’s up already; I overslept. Slowly, I drag myself out of bed, put on some clothes, and wash my face. I look horrible with my eyes red and my face puffy from crying. Though I tried to keep my sobs quiet last night, the proof of my sadness is still etched into my face.
I can’t believe Mason could say those things.
“Come on, puppy. That’s not what we’re about—you know that.”
I suppose I got what I deserve for ignoring all the red flags Oliver waved in my face, and now I’m left hurting.
Before Mason, my sex life left me wanting, and he more than delivered, but my love life is still as shitty as ever.
Either I’m with someone who likes me but who I don’t like back, like Micah, or I’m with someone I like but who doesn’t give two shits about me, like Mason.
I go downstairs, praying not to run into him first thing.
I don’t think I’d be able to stand him ignoring me right now.
I’ll get no more secret touches, no smirks, no voice in my ear whispering “puppy.” Even if I did, I wouldn’t enjoy it, because now I know it means nothing to him. Just some fun. Nothing real or lasting.
Oliver stands by the stove, whistling to himself as he makes pancakes, and I almost break down crying right there and then.
He’s my best friend. He’s never failed me. And I betrayed him. I did what I swore I’d never do.
I should tell him. Now that it’s over between us, I need to tell him about Mason, but I don’t know how.
Mason and I snuck behind his back all summer, and now that it’s over, will Oliver forgive me?
I don’t think so. But I can’t keep it a secret any longer.
I just don’t want to lose him. Even though he’ll leave for college in less than two weeks, I still want to keep him in my life, even if I don’t deserve his friendship.
I wrap my arms around myself, watching him make the pancakes and plate them.
He’s always been good at cooking, even if he hasn’t always embraced the skill, but these past few weeks, he’s gone above and beyond.
He pours maple syrup on top of the carefully stacked pancakes, and the end result is social media-worthy.
I sit down at the kitchen table and take a bite, but everything tastes like cardboard. I chew mechanically, and Oliver has already eaten half the plate by the time I’ve barely finished a bite.
“Maybe we can go somewhere today,” I mumble, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.
“Where?” Oliver asks.
“Like… into town or something.”
I keep glancing over my shoulder, paranoid that Mason will show up at any moment.
What if he keeps teasing me, even now? What if he keeps calling me “puppy”?
What if he mocks me for admitting my feelings for him?
To be honest, I wouldn’t put it past him.
I thought I knew him, or at least what made him tick, but the past few days have proved me wrong.
So wrong. I never knew him, and he never knew me.
“Sure,” Oliver says, munching on the pancakes, “but it’ll have to wait. Mason’s got the car.”
I glance out the kitchen window, and yeah, the driveway’s empty. Where is he? I should be relieved he’s not here, but something feels wrong, too. Like something’s missing.
I curl in on myself, tugging at my choker. I don’t know why I put it on this morning. Force of habit, I guess.
“Is something wrong?” Oliver nods at my plate. “I thought you loved pancakes.”
“I do, I just… don’t feel so good.”
“Are you sick? Here.” Oliver reaches across the table and presses the back of his hand to my forehead, and that simple gesture, paired with the worried crease between his brows, breaks the dam of my tears.
“Hey,” Oliver says softly. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” I take a deep, shuddering breath, tears dripping down my face. “I have something to tell you.”
“Okay,” Oliver says, the word drawn out into a question. “Go ahead.”
“Um, remember when…” I wipe my tears with my sleeve and try again. “Remember when you told me to stay away from Mason?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I… didn’t.”
His reaction takes me aback. He doesn’t seem surprised; he doesn’t even seem angry. He just rolls his eyes and grumbles, “Took you long enough.”
My stomach drops. I don’t know what to say. It takes me several tries before I get something out.
“I… You… What?”
“Yep,” Oliver says, popping the ‘p.’ “I already know, knucklehead.” He rolls his eyes again and keeps eating his pancakes as if nothing even happened.
“You… know?” I squeak in horror.
“I know you’ve been sleeping with him, yeah.”
I don’t know whether I should be relieved or horrified. I settle for a mix of both. “But… how?”
“You weren’t exactly being subtle about it,” Oliver says with a wry smile. “To be honest, I think you’re selling me a little short. You really think I’m that oblivious?”
“But you were sleeping. When we…”
“When you were fucking? Yeah, but even I can figure out when something’s up. The way you acted around each other. The hickeys. Come on, I’m not that clueless.”
“But does that mean you’re… fine with it?”
“Fine with it?” Oliver says with a shrug. “Not really. But it’s not like I was going to kick you out or anything. You’re still my friend, even if you’re sleeping with my asshole of a brother.”
“But… I broke my promise. And I went behind your back.”
He shrugs again. “Yeah, but it’s not like I could stop you. The one I’m really mad at is Mason.”
“Why?”
Oliver raises a brow. “Come on. He’s the one who started it. He should know better; he’s older, and he’s not… like you and me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not a liar and a manipulator like he is.”
“How do you know?” I ask bitterly. “I lied to you. Multiple times.”
“Yeah, but it’s different.”
“Different, how?”
Oliver sighs. “Just trust me, Lane. You’re not like him.”
I’m not sure I understand what he means, but it doesn’t really matter.
I said what I had to say, and Oliver reacted oppositely to what I feared.
I was ready for him to end our friendship, or at least kick me out, though what would I have expected of my best friend?
He’s fair. He’s kind. I wronged him, yet he forgives me just like that.
“Anyway,” I sigh. “It’s over.”
Oliver nods and eats the last of his pancakes. “Is that why you cried last night?”
I wince. “You heard me?”
“I hear more than you know.”
My face heats up. “You mean… you heard us? At night?”
He waves a hand. “No, thank God. I think I slept through it, but I started wondering why you kept leaving my room at night. I woke up sometimes to you being gone, and, uh… it was pretty easy to figure out.”
I look down at my lap, chewing on my lower lip. My pancakes are getting cold. I hate to waste them, but the thought of eating makes me want to throw up.
I’m lost in thought for a while, running a finger along my choker while Oliver puts his plate in the dishwasher.
“Did he give you those?” He nods at my neck.
I realize I’m sliding my finger over one of the hickeys, pressing down on it, feeling it throb with pain.
“Yeah.” I tug at my choker. “This too.”
Oliver rolls his eyes. “I figured.”
Suddenly I feel stupid. My choker wasn’t some declaration of love, like part of me had started to hope.
He was just trying to mark his ownership of me.
Make me submit in ways I never even realized.
I feel blindsided, like I’ve missed something crucial—a joke that everyone else was in on—and now I have to pay the price for my foolishness.
I tug at the heart-shaped pendant, wanting to rip it to pieces.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I should go home.”
Oliver blinks. “What? Hell no. Don’t be silly. The summer isn’t over yet.”
“So you’re not mad at me?” I need to hear him say it outright—otherwise, I’m not sure I believe it.
He shrugs. “Mason’s good at getting what he wants, and once he’s gotten what he wants, he gets bored, and it’s not worth so much anymore. End of story.”
“But… I wanted it, too.”
Oliver rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. If you keep talking about how you’ve been doing the nasty with my big brother, I might change my mind about letting you stay.
” He pauses to look at me, and I squirm under his gaze.
When he speaks again, it’s slowly, with more care.
“All I want to know is why. Why did you do it, and why did you keep doing it?”
I let go of my choker and look down at my lap, mumbling the words under my breath. “You’re leaving. And I needed to have someone. I can’t just be alone.”
It sounds like an accusation, and in a way, I guess it is.
Oliver shifts his gaze, a flicker of guilt passing over his face. “I know. I’m sorry.”
I shrug, but my miserable expression says it all. “Don’t be. You have to prioritize your future. I’ll be okay.”
Oliver just looks at me, gaze steady as he asks, “Will you?”
Despite wanting to cry, I force a smile. “Yeah.” I can’t let my feelings show—can’t hold Oliver back from what he wants to do in life. I might not be okay in the strict meaning of the word, but I’ll survive.
“And what about Mason?”
I take a deep breath, shaking my head. “I don’t want him back.”
I sound more sure than I am, but it’s what I feel in the moment.
My feelings tend to change depending on how lonely I feel, and Mason was good at making me feel less lonely, but it was all temporary, and some of the things he’s done and said made me feel lonelier than ever.
It’s not worth it to risk feeling that way again.
“Then I’ll do a better job at protecting you than I did,” Oliver says. “Do you want me to?”
I inhale a sharp breath, nodding. “Yeah.”
Something tells me I’ll need it when Mason comes back.
I force a few more bites of the pancakes, apologize to Oliver for failing to stomach any more, and go up to his room.
There, I unclip the heart-shaped choker and place it back in the velvet box.
I think of all the times Mason tugged on it during sex, how pleased he looked when I first showed up to his room wearing it around my neck…
I can’t wear it anymore. When he sees me and notices its absence, it’ll be like an unspoken statement: I’m not yours anymore, so stay away.
Unsure where to put the box, I stuff it into my backpack. I should throw it in the trash along with the butt plug, but the choker is a nice piece of jewelry after all, and as for the butt plug… I can find other uses for it. Solitary ones.
Either way, I’ll hold on to both of them for now. Not because of hope, but as a cautionary keepsake of what happens when I give too much of myself and get nothing in return.
Oliver and I spend the rest of the day gaming and laughing, and finally, it feels like I have my friend back, as if a weight has lifted off me and I can finally be fully myself again, even if my chest still feels hollow and aching.
The unfamiliar absence of the choker leads my hands to my throat now and again, stroking my skin, and further down, to the hickeys that still dot my body.
When I go to the bathroom, I press down on them one by one, and try to look forward to when they’ll heal and disappear, even if a secret, forbidden part of me wants them to stay.