Chapter 82
CHAPTER 82
OLIVER
H ave I mentioned lately that I hate people? I don’t mind saying that for the millionth fucking time. I hate everyone in this stupid state except my crazy girl and maybe the old bag. Her craziness is starting to grow on me. I can accept people being batshit crazy. I can accept people being sadistic fucks out for their own satisfaction.
What I cannot stand is slow-ass motherfuckers who take an hour to hand over the cash for a job well done, especially when such payment is three hundred bucks, and said patron is paying in single bills.
It takes a lot of restraint not to strangle this old-timer who should’ve been put out of her misery two decades ago. I could so easily snap her neck, and the only thing stopping me is the image my brain conjures up of the look on Beth’s face if she had to see my ass in handcuffs.
Woosah.
Woooooosah.
Woo-fuckin-sah.
Woo-I’m-gonna-turn-this-grandma-into-a-breadloaf-sah.
I think of every negative thing my woman would have to go through if I murdered this woman, and it’s sobering. Things I never thought about enter my mind until the boomer hands over the wad of cash, and I rush to give her the receipt. My gaze jumps up to the clock mounted on the wall. I’ve done that seven times in the last hour. Does it say how crappy my job is that all I can think about is making it to my break right now?
When I was a mechanic, it was easier to handle. I spent most of my days under a car and avoided people, except when my boss told me he had a car for me to work on.
The local shops didn’t have any job openings for mechanics, but they did for the front desk, so I had no choice but to take the job. Sure, I could’ve stayed on Vera’s property with my woman, but neither of us felt right about taking advantage of Vera’s hospitality.
Another hour and ten glances at the clock later, my boss, Derek, comes out from his private office, looking about as done with everything as I feel. “Time for your break, Doyle.”
Say no more.
Stepping away from the front desk, I make my way to the back door for the simple fact that I need to avoid all living creatures for the next thirty minutes. I don’t need food. Just isolation. Someone is against that outcome because the phone in my pocket vibrates. There is only one person I want to talk to, and she rarely ever calls me when I’m at work, even around my break time. She knows I need my quiet time away from people, and sometimes that includes her. She is the most understanding person in my life.
I scowl at the device when I see it’s not my crazy girl but Ronan. Why the fuck is he calling me? He knows I’m in an undisclosed location with Beth, and I won’t tell him where that is. He never cared much to get a hold of me when I was in Grove Hill unless it was because someone broke the rules or Nigel was being a dumbass.
“What?” I growl as I put the phone to my ear and lean against the side of the building. A few cars drive by, primarily teenage girls younger than Beth, who try to entice me to leave with them. I’ll gladly pass on that offer. I have something much sweeter waiting for me at home. The image of my woman spread out on our bed with my come dripping from between her parted thighs flashes through my mind, and it quells the fiery pit of anger inside me. I’m calm once again, knowing that if I behave like the majority of citizens, I’ll receive a prize when I return to her. It will be a well-deserved dessert indeed, especially since every day that goes by that I don’t viciously murder every human who looks at me sideways is a goddamn miracle.
“Hey, man. How’s Beth doing?”
“If you really wanted to know how she’s doing, you would’ve called her, not me.” That’s not true since Martin took her phone, but if Ronan tried to call her, he would’ve started with that. No, he called me instead.
Ronan huffs. “Just tell me. She’s my friend, too.”
She’s not his friend anymore, and I’m not just her friend, either. However, if I say that, he’ll just ask more questions that will piss me off, so I stay silent on that subject.
“She’s breathing, has three meals a day, and sleeps eight hours a night. Is that a good enough answer for you?” Honestly, I’m not sure of that answer on a spiritual level. I know she smiles, and it reaches her eyes. I know I haven’t seen her look as happy as she has recently since before Nigel was arrested. That brings me peace of mind, but I don’t know how much of it is real or what she would be putting on a brave face for.
“Knowing you, that’s as good of an answer as I’m going to get. Why do you have to be so damn antisocial?Can’t you just take a minute to have a conversation with me?”
“Aww, Walsh. Do you miss me already? I figured that would take a decade to kick in,” I murmur sarcastically. Honestly, I never expected him to miss me or even call me while out of town.
“Ollie,” he groans, probably irritated with my antics. What can I say? I’m not everyone’s favorite flavor. I’m pretty sure his favorite flavor is his cockblocking girlfriend, who can’t seem to keep herself out of the cabin me and Beth share. She has a nasty habit of interrupting my sexual explorations of my woman.
“Is there a reason you called besides checking in on Beth?” I ask.
He lets out a long breath. “Nigel fucked up big time.”
“What did he do?”
“Knocked up some girl from the city, a college girl named Becky,” he admits.
This doesn’t surprise me. Nigel has been screwing his way through Grove Hill since their break up, and it was bound to happen, especially if he were plastered when said canoodling took place.
“Good for him. I’ll give her the heads up about his impending introduction into fatherhood.”
“It’s not impending. The kid was born two weeks ago. The girl just tracked him down and told him. You know what this means, right?”
Jesus fucking Christ. Beth is still pregnant, which means he knocked this girl up two weeks before our rendezvous in the fog. He fucking screwed around on her and knocked up his one-night mistake.
Beth is going to be fucking crushed by this news.
A ragged breath rushes from my lips as I nod, knowing he can’t see me. “Goddamn it,” I curse as my fist balls at my side. If Nigel was in front of me right now, I’d probably maim him. He’s done plenty of fucked up things, including screwing her mother, but this takes the cake. This is the worst thing he has done. It’s not even Nigel’s spawn that’s the reason. It’s the fact that he screwed around on her, and she went into this contract with the Gray family to protect him, to save Nigel’s life. She knew deep down he had screwed around on her, even if she had no proof of it, but this is the proof that will probably break her. She likes to pretend that she never loved Nigel, but like with everything else he does, he wormed his way in.
I see red, but I hold in my rage. “Has a paternity test been done? What’s the kid’s name?” I know Beth will want these answers when I tell her what’s happening back at home. She’ll want as much information as possible, even if it kills her.
“His name is Finnick. Her family is well off, so she paid to have the paternity test expedited. She’s certain he’s the only guy who could possibly be the father, and Nigel believes her. He was smart enough to request a test, though. She said she just doesn’t want her son to grow up without his father. She expects nothing from him except for him to be present, or so she says. Who really knows, right?”
Her motives could have less than noble intentions, considering the track record of women he’s fucked and girls he’s dated hasn’t been the best, except for Bethany Mercer. Everyone else has been quite shady, and I’m not so sure this college girl is any different. However, I have seen how learning someone is going to become a parent can change people. Some people can surprise you and act differently than you expected them to.
Some people change. Some people don’t.
I hang up on Ronan without so much as a goodbye.
Walking right back into the shop, I march over to Derek, who seems to be skimming paperwork on his clipboard.
“Der, I’ve got a family emergency. I need to head home.”
He mumbles something about me needing to clock out before I run off, but he barely spares me a glance. At least he didn’t make this more difficult than necessary.
My crazy girl isn’t in physical danger, but I also know how detrimental stress is on her body. Even though she tries to hide it from everyone, her heart is her kryptonite. I know she still loves Nigel, but this–what he has done–has the potential to break her.
Jumping in the car, I call her, warning her not to talk to anyone, before hightailing it back to Vera’s. I hate that it's in the middle of nowhere when I’m so desperate to get back to her.
I speed down the long driveway, and my brakes squeak as I slam on them, trying my best not to hit the massive tree at the end of the driveway.
Gunderson sits on our steps, looking guilty as fuck, as she taps her fingers together. I jump out of the car and hurry over to her.
“Where is she?” I demand, leaving no room for argument.
Gunderson frowns. “On the other side of the cabin. She said she wanted to be alone.”
I don’t need to ask why. The answer is clear across her face.
“You fucking told her!”
“I didn’t have a choice, Oliver. She was having a damn panic attack over your phone call. She couldn’t handle the suspense of it. She freaked out when I told her about Finnick, but she…she didn’t cry. She–”
I don’t stick around to find out what the hell else she was going to add to her play-by-play. I should’ve known the call would freak her out, and that was my fuck up. This is my mess to deal with.
My woman who is broken.
My fault for making that phone call.
All she had to do was wait five minutes for me to get home, but she couldn’t.
I charge around the side of the cabin and come across my woman sitting at the edge of the grass, staring out at the pond with blank eyes. Her knees are drawn up, and her arms dangle over them. Her full stomach presses against her thighs, but I doubt she feels it from the emptiness reflecting in her eyes.
I hurry to her side, and she doesn’t even look up as I slide in beside her.
“Baby, look at me,” I demand, but she doesn’t move.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” The words are spoken so softly that I almost mistake them for the wind. “Nigel cheated on me and got the girl pregnant…Finnick O’Reilly has a nice ring to it.”
“Beth,” I hiss as I grip her thigh. “You have every right to be upset.”
“I’m not upset and…I don’t have a right to be. He broke up with me half a year ago, so I can’t be mad that he cheated on me. You knocked me up while I was with him, so I can’t be mad that he got her pregnant. We’re about to have our son. I can’t be mad that he gets his.”
I watch as her pulse point twitches in her neck and increases in frequency. Outwardly, she seems cool, calm, and collected, but on the inside, she’s having a fucking meltdown. Without any more time to think or process her behavior, I take her in my arms and cradle her to my chest. She breaks down the moment her cheek touches the cotton of my shirt, and she clings to me with her nails digging into my flesh. The sobs shake her body like Category 5 winds, and the turbulence shakes me to my core.
Not much bothers me, but experiencing my crazy girl having her heart truly broken is something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve ever felt like this, like I wanted to burn the world down, and all of them had to do with her. I want to kill anyone and everyone who ever hurt her from now until the end of my days. I’d do anything to bring her comfort and make her happy.
“How could he do something like this,” she whispers, and my heart breaks a little.
My fingers comb through her hair as I brush her tears away and hold her tight.
I’ll always wage war on things and people that bring her pain.