28. Lilah
28
Lilah
Oliver was in the house. I could feel him nearby, but I didn’t see him for the rest of the day. I was upset at first until Killian and Emmett both sat me down and told me that he was doing everything in his power to give me the space I needed to heal and get better, especially after speaking with the doctor.
There was a peculiar glitter in Emmett’s eyes when he supported Killian in telling me that, one that made me wrinkle my nose, though neither of them told me anything after that point. I wasn’t overly bothered, though I could tell that there was something they weren’t telling me. Was it about Oliver? Did he want me to leave the house again?
The thought of being asked to leave, especially after everything that had transpired in order for me to get back here, made my stomach curdle. So when I finally walked downstairs after Killian called me down for dinner, and the first thing that hit my nose was Oliver’s scent, I could tell that it was time we sat down and had a conversation—a real conversation.
Oliver was at the dining room table as I walked into the kitchen. I could see him sitting with his back straight and his hands clasped together on top of the table. There was something pensive about the way that he was perched on his chair, and when I looked at Killian, he offered me a small, sneaky smile as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of my head.
“Go on, baby girl,” he said softly, gently encouraging. “We’ll be right there.”
I swallowed hard but nodded and walked into the dining room. As soon as I entered, Oliver’s blue eyes snapped to me, and his mouth opened, a soft breath of air escaping him.
I stopped in my tracks, my teeth sinking into the inside of my cheek as I looked at him. His eyes glimmered with an indecipherable emotion, and my stomach twisted as his scent filled my nose even stronger. Here, there were no distractions from him, either biologically or otherwise, and my body couldn’t decide if it hated it or loved it more.
I shifted back and forth between my feet, unsure of what to say, but after a few seconds, I chose not to say anything. I pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the table from Oliver and sat down, clasping my hands together on top of the table the same way his were.
“Oliver,” I said softly.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he inclined his head. “Lilah,” he greeted in return. His voice was more subdued than I had ever heard it, and there was something different about how he held himself as he looked at me. A glint of something in his eyes—along with a healthy dose of protectiveness—made me squirm a little. My inner omega purred, suddenly desperate to launch myself across the table at the alpha who was currently looking at me like he wanted nothing more than to gather me in his arms and keep me safe.
Even the thought of that made my heartbeat start to speed up, and I swallowed down the sudden wave of nausea that hit me. My hands trembled a little bit, and Oliver’s eyes darted to them, regret shining strong in his eyes.
I was sorely mistaken if I’d expected an apology at that point. Granted, I couldn’t know whether or not it was something he’d been planning on doing because not five seconds after I sat down, Killian and Emmett joined us in the dining room, both carrying plates of food that they spread out across the top of the table in an unexpected feast.
“Dinner is served,” Killian announced, grinning widely at me and Oliver. Emmett sat on my other side, and Killian perched himself at the head of the table, distributing plates and silverware as he did so. He deposited each item with a ridiculous little flick of the wrist, and when he finished all four settings, he did a little wiggle dance, winking at me.
His antics made me smile, and I took the plate and silverware he offered me with a small nod. “Thank you, Killian,” I said softly.
His responding smile was wide and tender, making butterflies flutter in my stomach alongside the nausea. It was a bit of a mind fuck, the way that my body was stretching towards the three alphas and rebelling against them in turn. I could see Oliver evaluating my every move as I picked up my knife and fork and waited for Killian to serve me, correctly assuming that Killian wouldn’t allow me to serve myself.
Dinner was a large, tender roast garnished with fresh herbs and sides of green beans, stuffing, and mashed potatoes. It felt almost like a Thanksgiving-type dinner, but I didn’t comment on it as Killian deposited my plate back in front of me, loaded with more food than I could possibly eat in one sitting. I knew he was just trying to take care of me, so I didn’t say anything, instead mentally vowing to set aside everything I didn’t eat right now and polish it off later.
A faint layer of tension settled on top of the four of us as we all dug into our food. Nobody spoke; the only sounds in the room were that of our silverware and porcelain and the occasional soft grunt of approval as someone ate something they liked. The food was fantastic, of course; Killian was a good cook, a fact I had learned over the month I had first lived here.
The fact that I was here again...
The thought pulled me up short, and I swallowed a bite of meat and potatoes, setting down my silverware. Of course, Oliver was the first to clock my new hesitation, and he matched me, setting his silverware down in turn.
“We need to talk about it, Lilah,” he said softly—gently, despite the grimace that told me he didn’t want to have this conversation much more than I did.
I flinched a little before I looked up and met his gaze. My body rioted as I looked him in the eye, but I forced down all the shakiness and dizziness, breathing in his scent and desperately willing my body to calm the fuck down. There was no way this would work if I kept wanting to faint every time I accidentally caught a whiff of his scent.
Killian and Emmett seemed to sense the more than obvious tension, and they each set down their silverware, looking at me and Oliver in turn. I didn’t look away from Oliver, instead lowering my chin in a nod and taking a deep breath.
“Yes, we do,” I said softly.
He nodded and then cocked his head to the side. A new hardness entered his eyes, and he pressed his lips together for a moment. “Please explain to me your side of the story regarding Hunter Randall,” he said softly. “And then I’ll tell you ours.”
It wasn’t the direction I had expected this conversation to go, and for a moment, I reeled back, shock slapping me in the face. Then, understanding dawned. Of course he wanted to talk about this—it was the impetus behind him rejecting me. Everything started with Hunter Randall.
I nodded, looking down at my hands clasped in my lap. Killian’s hand snuck over and linked our fingers together, and I squeezed his hand back, grateful for the support.
“I wasn’t lying to you that day,” I started. “I’d heard of Hunter Randall, of course. He’s been one of the most notorious serial killers in our area for the last twenty years. I would have been stupid, blind, and deaf if I hadn’t heard of him. I couldn’t tell you the names of any of his victims or anything like that, though. I know lots of people are into true crime, but I’ve never been one of them.”
“Noted,” Oliver said softly.
I nodded again. “I didn’t know that he was the one who hurt...” I looked at Killian, and he grimaced.
“Jack,” he supplied.
I winced a little. I knew that. “Right. Jack. I didn’t know anything about him. I didn’t know that he was a member of your pack, and I didn’t know he was a victim of Randall.” I paused and continued, “And I didn’t know that Randall is allegedly my father. I told you I didn’t know who my father was, and I was telling the truth. I’ve never needed a father. Me and my mother got along just fine without a father figure in my life, so when that letter came to the house...”
“I’m sure you were just as shocked as we were,” Emmett said softly.
His hand reached out and landed on top of my thigh, squeezing comfortingly, and I squeezed Killian’s hand as I lay my other on top of Emmett’s. The feeling of having both of them on either side of me was steady and comforting, enough to bolster me and give me the strength to nod.
“I was,” I said, my voice a little raspy. I looked up at Oliver, and the guilt flickering in his eyes made my nausea spike. I shoved it down and continued, not looking away from him, “And then when you didn’t believe me...”
I trailed off, allowing the silence to fill my words. What I didn’t say out loud was that I had a strong suspicion that the fact that he didn’t trust me—not necessarily the fact that he had rejected me—was the true reason my body was reacting so strongly to the rejection.
Oliver blew out a breath and nodded. His eyes flicked over to Killian, then Emmett, and I saw the mild resignation on his face as he took the three of us in together.
If there had been any hope of Killian—and maybe even Emmett, though he and I still hadn’t talked about how he felt—letting me go after this, I could see Oliver realizing that hope was dashed. There was no way that Killian would allow me to go anywhere until I was healed, and probably not even then.
Especially with my mom as sick as she was...
The thought of my mother immediately sobered me, even more than the conversation we were having. I opened my mouth, ready to tell Oliver that it was fine if we shelved the conversation for now because I needed to go and see my mom, but then Oliver started talking before I could say anything.
“Jack...Jack was the most hopeful of all of us.” Oliver’s voice was soft and hesitant, and he stared down at the table, twisting his fingers together as he spoke. “He and I knew each other the longest. We met Killian and Emmett when we were all in high school, and the four of us became fast friends. He and I...we’d known each other since we were five. He was the brother I never had. He was so happy and joyful. He was convinced we would make the best pack someday. The moment we both presented as alphas was one of the happiest times of his life, in his words, and it was hard not to get swept up in his enthusiasm when he would get going.”
Killian chuckled softly, clearly remembering something. Oliver’s gaze cut towards him for a moment, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips before he returned his attention to me, his face immediately sobering again. “After we formalized our pack, Jack wanted to go out and start looking for an omega immediately. He wanted to register our availability to court with the state, and he only laid off the issue when I told him we would be a better prospect for our omega if we all had our degrees and were situated in our career fields.”
I swallowed. “That makes sense,” I whispered.
Oliver lifted one shoulder in a shrug, looking down at his lap again. “Yes, well. We went through the first few years of college, and every summer, we discussed registering to find an omega. Jack couldn’t get it out of his head. It was...it was the only thing that he wanted. He wanted us to be a pack—a big happy family.”
My stomach dropped out from underneath me. Other than the inevitable, gruesome conclusion, I might not know where this story was going, but there was something foreboding in the air. “Okay...?”
Oliver nodded, still not looking up at me. His voice was a little hoarse when he continued. “He went behind our backs. Before our senior year, he made an appointment to go to the office to get the registration paperwork started. He was so damn excited that morning, but I’d been too busy getting ready for work to ask him what he was so happy about before he left.” He paused. “Randall followed him after he left the office, and that’s when he attacked.”
My hand flew to my mouth, stifling the shocked squeak that wanted to escape me. I knew that that was the end of the story, of course, but the circumstances leading up to it...
If I’d thought I felt sick before, it was nothing compared to what I felt now.
“What...what did Randall do to him?” I finally whispered once I got my shaking voice under control.
Killian snorted at my side. “You don’t want to know that, baby girl,” he said bitterly. I knew his derision wasn’t directed towards me but rather at the unfairness of the entire situation. “Please. Trust me when I tell you that it’s nothing that anybody should have to see or know.”
I swallowed. “It was that bad?”
“It haunts me,” Oliver said quietly. “I had to go and identify his body once Randall...was finished.”
I closed my eyes, the look of despair on Oliver’s face painful enough to make me squirm. And as the four of us sat there in silence, the pieces of the puzzle, the explanation as to why Oliver had had such a strong reaction to the letter that day became clear.
“So he was murdered by my...father,” I said, only stumbling over the word slightly. “Because he was out there trying to register your pack so that you could bond with an omega and be happy. And then...the letter came to the house the same day that you were going to bond with me ...”
Oliver was nodding before I even finished. His eyes flicked up to mine, so blue, deep, and regretful, and he rasped out, “I overreacted. A lot. And I didn’t hear you out when I should have. And for that, Lilah, I am truly sorry.”
While necessary and something that I knew I would be grateful for later, the apology fell a little flat in the face of the horrifying story that he had just told me.
I stood up, pushing my chair back and releasing both Emmett and Killian so that I could walk around the edge of the table. I drew level with Oliver and ignored the way that my heartbeat jumped. My head grew light as I leaned down to wrap my arms around his neck and press my cheek to the top of his head.
“You did overreact,” I said quietly, just for him. He made a tiny sound deep in his throat, and his hand trembled as he pressed them a little more tightly together. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to shove me away or pull me closer, and I was grateful when he chose to stay still. It made it easier for me to continue. “And...it will take me some time to get over it, Oliver. I’m not going to sugarcoat things for you. Physically...and emotionally.” I swallowed, keeping my voice low, though I knew I wasn’t hiding anything from the other two wolves in the room. “But I understand your reasoning. I don’t...I’m not going to say that I forgive you, not right now. Not when my body reacts this way just to being around you.” I grimaced, another wave of lightheadedness making me clutch a little tighter to Oliver for his steadiness, if nothing else. “But...I think we’ll get there. Eventually.”
Oliver nodded, and before I could move, he turned his head to kiss the soft inside of my arm. His lips were tender where they pressed against my skin, making goosebumps rise even as my head spun with dizziness. Was that from low blood pressure or high? I would have to do an internet search on all the symptoms I was experiencing so I knew what was what...
“I think we’ll get there, too,” he said softly. He pulled away just enough to look up at me, and I could see his desire to do better, to fix this, shining in his eyes. “I’m going to work on my issues. My trust issues,” he continued, his voice still slightly raspy. “It...it isn’t your fault where you came from or who your father is. And I shouldn’t blame you for it, no matter our personal history with Randall.”
It wasn’t quite the admission of guilt or apology that he had just given me, but I was grateful for it all the same. I nodded, pulling away and toying with the ends of my hair.
“Okay,” I finally said. “Then...we move forward?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. The second it took for Oliver to nod his assent felt like an eternity. When he did, my stomach swooped, and I ignored all the ugly physical symptoms I was dealing with as I smiled at him.
“We move forward,” he agreed.
I let out a slow breath, then turned around and returned to my seat. Killian smiled brightly at me when I did so, reaching out to link our fingers together again, and we all resumed eating. The atmosphere was a little lighter than it had been only a few moments before, and for the first time in days, I felt the faintest stirrings of hope low in my belly.