Chapter Nineteen
Olivia
I stare out the window as grey clouds roll in, dark and low.
The sky feels heavy, swallowing what little light remains as rain begins to fall.
It taps the glass like a gentle lullaby, soothing me in a way nothing else does right now.
Maybe it mirrors something deeper inside me, that stillness, that ache.
The one I haven’t been able to shift for the last few days.
Not since . . . Dagger.
His lifeless image assaults my brain, just like it does over and over. Uninvited. Unwanted.
I feel Bully step into the room, his eyes burning into me, watching me.
He’s watched me a lot these last few days, closer than usual, perhaps expecting me to break.
I haven’t. Not yet. But I feel like my mind is pushing me to, wanting that peace that I helped Dagger to reach.
I shudder. The intrusive thoughts are loud, too loud to ignore some days.
I inhale deep and turn to face him, forcing a smile. “Everything okay?”
He nods, his eyes still checking me over warily. “Are you okay?”
I drop my feet to the floor and stand, tired of hearing the same question. Can someone be okay when they’ve murdered another? “I need some air,” I tell him, heading for the door.
“Liv, it’s raining,” he calls after me, like I haven’t just spent the last hour staring out the window.
The security guard looks up from his newspaper as I step out the lift.
It’s a new guy, and I suspect that’s down to Bully.
The door to the stairs springs open, and Bully appears, out of breath.
He holds up a jacket for me, and I roll my eyes, going out into the rain without taking it.
He follows, dumping the jacket on the security guy’s desk.
Whenever I step out these doors, it’s with Bully tailing me.
He doesn’t speak to me, doesn’t even fall into step with me .
. . he just follows. I turn to face him, walking backwards.
“I don’t need you following me.” He remains silent.
“I’m perfectly capable of walking alone.
” When he still doesn’t respond, I growl in frustration and spin back around, tipping my head back and holding my arms out, allowing the rain to soak me.
The street is busy with people rushing home from work, trying to avoid getting too wet as they dodge around one another. I walk slow, earning myself a few huffs as they dart past me, eyeing me with irritation. I smile. They don’t know how lucky they are.
I close my eyes, slowing to a stop. I jolt forward, and my eyes shoot open, squealing in surprise as Bully catches me right before I hit the ground.
A man mutters a few choice words as he speeds around us.
“Fuck you,” Bully calls after him. “Are you okay?” he asks, and I nod, our eyes locked in some kind of war.
I’m still hurting. Still haunted by the images of him with Lila. Still hearing the words ‘I love you’ play on repeat. But I can’t deny the heat crackling between us as he holds me against him.
Each night since Dagger, he’s held me until I’ve fallen asleep then crept from my room, only having to return after each nightmare.
“Why don’t you ever spend the night?” I whisper, blinking as rain drips from my brows. “You leave but then have to keep coming back when I wake.”
He brushes a strand of hair that clings to my cheek. “I don’t deserve to spend the night, Liv.”
I inhale sharply, my heart aching. And then I kiss him, slow, gentle. As I slide my hands over his cheeks and into his hair, it’s hungry and desperate. A need for connection. A need to feel.
Bully’s hands cling to my waist as he walks me out of the crowd without breaking the kiss.
My back hits a wall, and I realise we’re in an alleyway.
Bully pulls back, keeping eye contact. His breathing is laboured, and I see the lust burning like embers.
“I love you,” he whispers, his expression changing to sympathy, “but you’re not ready for this.
” His words sting, and my hands immediately drop to my sides.
He’s rejecting me. Rejecting me. As if he feels the sudden tension, he cups my face, trying to force me to look him in the eye.
I don’t. “Liv, you’re spiralling. If we did this, you’d regret it. I know you.”
I scoff, feeling the rage burning in my chest. “You don’t know me,” I spit, shaking his hands from me. He steps back. “If you did, you’d stop watching me like I’m a fucking China doll.” I push against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. “I’m not going to break, Bully.”
“And this is you, is it?” he asks. “Fucking in an alleyway like a desperate bitch in heat?” I slap him. It’s hard, instantly stinging my palm, and the sound echoes off the walls as silence spreads between us. He’s shocked as he grips his cheek, bringing his eyes to me.
“I forgot you like fucking in secret, Bully. Behind closed doors. Behind people’s backs.”
He grazes his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes burning into mine while he gets control of his anger.
“It’s in the past,” he eventually says, dropping his hand from his face.
The bright red handprint makes me feel guilty, and I look away.
“I’m not that man anymore.” He takes a few steps back. “Now, are you walking or not?”
Things feel strained. Maybe there are words we haven’t said, things we both resent and things we can’t forgive.
Bully followed me around the entire park, a good thirty-minute walk. All from a distance. Not just a few steps back like normal, but a good twenty feet.
And now, he’s in the kitchen, laughing and joking with Bria, like everything is fine. But it’s not, because whenever I step into the room, he goes quiet. He avoids my eyes. And I hate it.
I’m the one who should be mad still. He hurt me. He has no right to act like the wounded party here. And as laughter rings out, it sinks me deeper into a mood.
Another half-hour passes before Bria passes with a bowl of whatever he’s cooked. She offers a smile. “You okay?” I nod, just like I always do when she asks. “I’m gonna eat this in my room,” she adds, disappearing.
Bully appears in the doorway. “I know you’re not eating much right now,” he begins, and my eyes find the faint mark my hand left on his cheek, “but I worked hard. Come,” he orders, holding out a hand.
I reluctantly go into the kitchen, not taking his hand. He sighs heavily, following me.
I stop at the table, which is laid beautifully.
Bully pulls out my seat, and I lower into it.
“I thought we could change your favourite flowers,” he says, pointing to the spray of pink baby’s breath in the centre.
“I asked the florist, and these are popular.” I remain silent as he takes a seat opposite me.
“I learned how to cook,” he adds, pointing to the lamb sliced thinly on a serving plate.
He lifts a lid on a dish to reveal buttery potatoes and vegetables.
“Will you try to eat something . . . for me?” I give a slight nod, and he smiles in relief.
He begins to serve the meat. “I haven’t told the guys I can cook,” he says, almost smiling. “But I might surprise them with a home-cooked curry soon. It’ll blow Birdy’s steak pie out the window.”
He loads my plate with vegetables before settling back in his chair and nodding at me, pushing me to try his food.
I carefully pick up my fork and stab it in the meat.
I shudder when I picture Dagger again, unable to lift the fork any farther.
Bully’s movement grabs my attention as he drags his chair around the table next to me.
He takes the fork from my hand and picks up the knife.
I watch as he cuts a piece then adds a potato to the fork before carefully bringing it to my lips, waiting patiently until I open up.
I close my eyes as the meat practically melts in my mouth. I haven’t eaten in days, unless you count the dry crackers Bria force-fed me. My stomach growls in appreciation, and Bully smiles, loading up the next forkful.
Bully
Each mouthful feels like a small victory, and when she’s halfway through, she shakes her head. She’s eaten more than I thought she would, and I remain beside her as I finish my own.
I clear the plates then go to the fridge and retrieve the lemon cheesecake.
“You’ve always been a dessert kind of girl,” I tell her as I place it on the table.
I think I almost see a smile as I take a seat.
“And I know how you love lemon gin, so I created a lemon gin cheesecake. I don’t know if that’s a thing, but I figured drinking wouldn’t lead anywhere good, so adding it to a dessert would be the better option. ”
I scoop some onto a spoon, raising it to her lips. As she licks it from the spoon, I have to divert my eyes elsewhere. It’s like a slow torture watching her eat when all I want to do is kiss her perfect lips.
“I’m sorry,” she eventually whispers, and our eyes meet. “For earlier. For hitting you.”
I force a smile. It was a shock. Liv has never reacted like that towards me. Her lashing out is just another thing concerning me, like her silence, and like the distant look in her eye whenever I try to reach her.
“Don’t apologise, Liv. It’s the least I deserve for everything I’ve put you through,” I reply, using my thumb to wipe away some of the cream from the corner of her mouth. I lick it clean.
“I left a mark,” she whispers sadly, raising her hand to my face and cupping the cheek she hit.
I glance up and find tears in her eyes. I drop the spoon and turn to face her. “It’s fine. I’ve had worse,” I say, laughing to reassure her. “Any mark on my skin from you is one hundred percent wanted.”
“I don’t want to live here anymore,” she announces, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes glance to the corner where Dagger had been. “I feel like he’s here. Watching me. Haunting me.”