Chapter 11
Oliver
Traffic on the motorway down to Devon is light, and we’re making good time, with a little over eighty miles left to our destination.
Indie pop tunes play softly through the car’s speakers, Darius singing along as he drives.
I watch out my window – farms, fields and small towns blurring as we speed past.
Nerves roll around inside me the closer we get, and I bunch my hands together on my lap, fingers digging into my palms. If Darius wasn’t driving, I’d slip my hand into his and I wouldn’t care how needy it would make me seem. He brings me a sense of peace I’ve never found before.
Turning so that my back is half against the passenger door, I look at him.
He has a black headband on, keeping the strands of his blond hair off his forehead, and he’s wearing white shorts that reach his knees, a yellow linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a collection of beaded bracelets on his left arm.
“You’re doing it again.” Darius shoots me a smirk before focusing back on the road.
Heat blooms in my cheeks and down my neck. I can’t help staring at him. He’s magnetic. And gorgeous. And my favourite person in the world.
“You’re really beautiful,” I say, my honesty and his resulting smile doing nothing to fan the flames beneath my skin.
“And you’re a charmer, but thank you.”
“Anytime,” I say, grinning as I lean back in my seat. I’m staring out of the window, lost in thought, when I’m startled by a tap on my arm.
“Yellow car!” Darius shouts, a yellow Ford speeding past us.
“What was that for?” I ask, turning so my back is to the door and I can see him fully.
Both hands back on the wheel, Darius’s mouth twitches up at the side. “It’s a game. You punch the person next to you every time you see a yellow car. Have you never played it before?”
“No! That does not sound like a real game!”
“It is, and I’m great at it.” At that, Darius taps my leg, just as another yellow car zooms past us.
“Hmm… I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or not.”
“I’m not! It’s a real game. With rules.”
“Like what?”
“Um… No re-using a car, meaning you cannot get me back for the same vehicle. And yellow vans and buses don’t count.”
“Why don’t they count?” I ask.
“That’s what the rules say. You wanna play?”
“Fine. But I have more questions.”
“Great. You can ask them after you hand me a chocolate from the snack bag.”
I lean through the gap between the seats, retrieve the bag, and pull it onto my lap.
We only ate an hour ago, but if I have learned one thing about Darius, it’s that he gets pouty if you stand between him and his food. It’s kind of adorable.
Digging inside, I shift through the options – crisps, chocolates, nuts, sliced fruit and bottles of water.
“How long did you expect us to be driving for? There’s enough here for at least a week.”
“We needed options. Car snacks are the most important part of any car journey. That’s a fact.”
“Oh sure, yeah, I’ve heard that. It’s a very well known fact,” I remark playfully.
“Are you doubting me, puppy?” Darius grins, his eyes flitting my way.
“Never.” My lips twitch into a matching grin as I hold up two bars of chocolate. “Crunchie or Dairy Milk?”
Darius answers immediately. “Crunchie. It’s the superior of all chocolate bars.”
“You’re kidding, right? I don’t think we can be friends anymore. Everyone knows that Dairy Milk is the superior chocolate bar.”
Darius wrinkles his nose, a sure sign he does not agree with me.
“You’re cute when you’re wrong. Now, stop holding my Crunchie hostage.”
The foil crinkles as I tear it open before handing it to him. I watch his jaw work as he chews on the chocolate, then turn my attention to the remaining bar in my hand.
God, when did I last eat chocolate? I know the answer and I hate it. Another thing stolen from me by someone I once trusted.
Such a good boy, Oliver, you deserve a treat.
I reach for the energy drink I have stored in the side of the car door, and take a sip, the sweetness coating my tongue as bile rises in my throat, my stomach making waves with the fries and apple I ate at the services earlier.
I shove the chocolate back in the bag and dump the entire thing at my feet.
“You don’t want one?” Darius asks, dusting Crunchie remnants from his shirt before returning his hand to the wheel.
“I’m good. Not hungry.”
“You sure? You hardly ate earlier and there’s other –”
“I said I’m fine, D!” I don’t mean to snap, instantly regretting it. The playfulness from moments ago gets sucked out of the car, leaving us with a stilted, uncomfortable silence.
Darius nods, “Okay.” He turns up the volume on his playlist and we drive on without speaking, the words ‘I’m sorry’ sitting heavy on my tongue, but not passing my lips.
How many times will he accept my apologies before he’s done with me?
We turn off the motorway, passing through small town after small town before arriving on a winding road that leads to the place I spent twenty-one years of my life.
Home. Only the word no longer fits. It hasn’t in a very long time.
Trees flank us on each side, thick and dense to the left and thinner, with a patchy view of the town below on the other.
It’s a picturesque route down to the coast, the kind you’d see on a postcard – a winding road with an orange and pink sunset peeking through the trees.
I can’t see it as beautiful, not anymore.
“Has Caiden ever told you how his brother died?” I ask, looking straight ahead.
Darius turns the music down, his voice quiet when he answers. “Yes. It took him a while, but I know.”
“That was on this road.”
“Fuck.” Darius swallows thickly, his throat bobbing with the action. I lean back in the seat, looking down at my nails. “Caiden told me they were leaving a party when it happened.”
“I was meant to be there with him,” I confess, closing my eyes and replaying that night.
Caiden messaging me for a hookup. Me saying I’d meet him at the party, and then getting distracted by a weed dealer with big tits and an eager mouth.
“Caiden and I had made plans to meet up, but I was running late. Someone said they’d got into a fight and left early.
I often wonder if I had got there on time, if their outcome would have been different.
Like if I was with Caiden as planned, they wouldn’t have left when they did, and then their paths would never have crossed with that truck. ”
Darius shakes his head. His face in profile is tense, his jaw ticking, frown tight.
“You couldn’t have known what would happen at that party or after, Ollie. It’s tragic what happened to the Carrington family, but it was an accident. It’s not on you.”
A breath puffs from my pursed lips. “Yeah. I know.” Darius is right. Of course he is, and I never really blamed myself. I only wished I had made a different choice that night. But like I told Darius before, you can never go back.
Not even if it would give you the chance to fix mistakes, take a different path, or ask for help before it’s too late.
By the time we leave the winding road in the rearview mirror, the sky is a hazy purple; the sun sitting low on the horizon.
Darius navigates the car down a narrow country lane, lined by tall hedges and barely any space to pass oncoming traffic.
My parents’ place is ten minutes from here and as each minute on the dashboard screen counts down, my heart rate increases, sweat beading on the back of my neck.
Nine minutes. Eight minutes. Seven minutes.
I can’t do this.
“We need to stop. Please D, please stop. I need…fuck. Stop the car.” My eyes sting and I think I’m going to be sick.
“Ollie, I can’t stop here. Hold on, okay?” We’re still on one of those fucking narrow roads with no space to pullover. I’m breathing through the rising panic, spots dancing in my vision when Darius speaks again.
“What’s down there?” I look at where he’s pointing and nod, not able to move enough air through my lungs to speak. He makes the turn which brings us to a small recreational area complete with parking space for three cars. It’s empty, and he pulls the car in, killing the ignition.
I swing the door open with force, running to the woodland area surrounding the carpark, losing the contents of my stomach into the shrubbery. My muscles clench and I sink down to the ground, knees up, my face buried in my arms, chest aching with the struggle to take in air.
Trainers scuff on gravel before a gentle hand cards through my hair.
Inside me, a storm rages. Bones rattling. Foundations tearing. Airways crushing. Yet in front of me, a calming force steadies a world on the edge of destruction. Darius slides his hands from my hair to cup my cheeks, lifting my face until our eyes meet.
He’s an anchor, thrown out to steady a ship on a wind-beaten sea, and I tether myself to him. Holding tight so I’m not washed away.
“Breathe, Ollie.”
“I...I can’t.” I don’t know how long the body can go without a proper breath but it feels like an eternity has passed since I last managed.
“Breathe, puppy.” His voice is warm but stern, concern flashing in his eyes. I open my mouth and suck in a sharp breath, filling my lungs. “Good. Again.”
I repeat the action once, twice, and then a third time before my breathing is steady. “How are you always so calm?”
“I don’t really know, to be honest. I think it’s in my nature.
” Darius drops to his knees, shuffling forward.
I open my legs and he slides between them, hugging me, right there on the gravel of a carpark in the middle of rural Devon.
He presses a kiss to my temple. “I don’t know your story, Ollie, and maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think life has been cruel to me the way it has you. ”
“You’re not. I need it to stop. I’m so tired, D.”
“What do you want to do? If you say you want to leave, I’ll drive us back to London right now,” Darius offers. “You know we have enough snacks to get us home.” His humour is exactly what I need and despite the exhaustion settling into every part of me, I manage a soft smile.
“Can we go to the bed-and-breakfast now and leave seeing my mum until tomorrow? I don’t want to see her yet.”
“Anything you want.”
We make the slow drive to the bed-and-breakfast, another twenty minutes past my parents’ place, and park out front the little stone cottage.
I grab our bags from the back of the car while Darius checks us in.
We take the stairs to the first floor and though we’ve booked separate rooms, Darius follows me into mine.
We don’t talk about it. He simply takes his bag from me and walks into the bathroom.
I sit on the edge of the double bed looking at the door he closed behind him, biting my lip to hold back the groan building in my chest when he walks out dressed in tiny pink pyjama shorts and a loose fitting white tee.
It drapes off his slender shoulder, leaving his collarbone exposed, and I want more than anything to place a kiss right in the dip.
His eyes are gentle, and his smile is sweet when he rounds the bed and lifts the duvet.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
I swallow, my voice a breathless croak when I reply. “Perfect.” I don’t take my eyes off of Darius as he slides beneath the covers. My heart races, not only because I haven’t shared a bed with another person in years, but because it’s him. The man I’m hopelessly falling for.
The reality of that hits me like a bolt of lightning, wreaking havoc on my already fragile emotions.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
I think of Darius and that little four letter word and…it fits. It feels right and that fucking scares me.
After a quick shower, in which the water went cold almost as soon as I got in, I brush my teeth then dress in gym shorts, leaving my torso bare.
When I return to the room, Darius’s eyes meet mine before they dip, moving over my naked chest like a caress.
Lifting the other side of the duvet, I slide in beside him.
We’re both on our backs and despite the space between us, I am fully aware of Darius’s presence. His gentle breaths, the scent of his skin, the brush of his foot against mine. I’m too worn out to get hard, and I’m thankful for that, but there is no doubt in my mind that I want him.
I’ve been so afraid for so long of letting people in, but I never stood a chance with Darius, and now that he’s burrowed into my heart, I’m afraid something will take him away from me. But more than that, I’m afraid it’ll be me who chases him away.
“My dad once told me that the night I was born, there was a storm. He said that I captured the energy of that storm inside of me.” If Darius is confused by my sudden confession into the stillness of the room, he doesn’t say as much.
“Over the years, I wondered what he meant by that. I never asked him, but one day I saw this news report about a storm that destroyed an entire village and I figured that he meant I was like that. Chaotic. Destructive.” I take a breath before the next part.
“What if I ruin us? What if that’s in my nature? ”
I turn onto my side, and Darius does the same, bringing us face to face. We’ve left the curtains open and though the sun has set, there’s still a warmth in the sky that casts a serene glow over his features.
Angel.
“I think your dad was right about the energy in you. Not because you’re destructive, Oliver.
But because you’re strong and resilient.
” Darius’s words are a balm, even if they are a struggle to believe.
“So strong.” My heart stills as he leans closer and ghosts his lips over the side of my mouth.
It’s not a kiss, it’s barely a touch, but it warms me to the core. “And like a storm, you’re captivating.”
Darius pushes me onto my back and snuggles closer, resting his head on my chest. I lie awake for hours, listening to his sweet breaths and making silent promise after silent promise to myself and to him that I won’t destroy this, because he is the best thing to ever happen to me.
And maybe just this once, I can have something good.