Chapter 12 Olivia #2
Leaving Simon to his amazing three-way—Go Simon!
—I take a step back into the foyer with the intention of going into the kitchen.
But the sight before me has me stumbling back a step, nearly losing my balance.
Golden fur streaks by, heading down the hall toward the kitchen.
His claws click against the worn wooden floors, echoing as he moves. My chest tightens at the sight of him.
The golden fur. The big, furry ears. The familiar black nose with dark whiskers.
Waffles.
“I found him!” Hux proclaims through a crack in his voice, holding up a blond fluff of fur who squirms and whines.
Hux’s cheeks heat when Mack grins, eager to rip into him about the newest development–a squeaky crack in his voice.
“Shut up,” Hux grunts, deliberately lowering his voice so it doesn't squeak.
Something it's been doing lately. Along with his growth spurt, making him nearly six feet tall at thirteen.
“A puppy?” JJ asks, petting the squirming furball.
“Yeah! I found him running around in the cemetery.” Hux shakes his head, sadness pulling down his features.
That can only mean one thing.
I frown. “Someone dumped him?”
Hux stiffens, looking down at the little guy with a frown. “Yeah, I think so.”
“It wouldn't be the first time someone dumped an animal at the cemetery,” JJ offers sadly.
“We need cameras at that damn entrance so no one can do that again.” Mack leans in and chuckles lowly when the dog licks his face.
“Are we keeping him?” There's hope simmering in my chest when the dog licks Mack again, waggles his little tail, and squirms out of Hux’s grip.
“I…” Hux stutters slightly, staring down at the puppy in question, running playful circles around us.
This wouldn’t be the first animal we’ve found wandering around the property. People see big woods, a cemetery, and think it’s the perfect place to leave their unwanted animals. Normally, we give them to the animal shelter for quick adoptions.
But this puppy feels different.
“We can totally hide him from Franco,” Mack says, plopping on the forest floor below our treehouse. The puppy jumps into his lap and licks his face over and over again. “Oh, yeah. This dog is ours. See? He already loves me!” Mack proclaims with a laugh.
“Waffles,” I say, sitting next to Mack and reaching a hand over.
“You want waffles?” JJ asks seriously, hovering above with concern in his eyes. “Have you not eaten? We can go to the diner for breakfast. They serve it all day.” He checks me again, taking in the size of my cheeks and chapped lips.
“No!” I laugh, running my fingers through the puppy's fluffy fur. “He reminds me of waffles.”
“I like Waffles. Waffles John Owens Jones Crewes Viotto.” Mack lifts his chin with pride.
“So…you gave him all our last names and John? Who the hell is John?” Hux huffs. “And why is my last name fifth and almost last?”
“What do you think you should be? First?” JJ cocks a brow at Hux who shrugs in response, sitting next to me as Waffles crawls all over us.
“Our little secret?” I ask, petting Waffles behind the ears as he attacks my face with kisses.
“Yeah.” They all agree at once.
Waffles wasn't a secret for long. Franco found out almost immediately after finding Waffles curled up in Mack’s bed, despite the promise to leave him outside.
He forced us to live up to our responsibility and take Waffles to the vet for shots and registration and clean up his messes.
It was the one time Franco gave fatherly advice instead of barking orders.
Or hurting us. Instead, he let us keep Waffles as long as we trained him.
“Waffles,” I whisper faintly before I can stop the words from falling from my lips. It's hard not to call out to him. One of my old pals. My furry companion. The dog who looked after me when my life was at its lowest point. Or what I thought was my lowest.
The lock clicks into place on the outside of my bedroom door, sealing my fate for the night. I sigh, sitting on my bed, and stare at the clock. There's nothing else of substance left in here to entertain me.
No computer. No TV. No lamps.
It's a prison.
“You're lucky you get a mattress to sleep on!” My father barked at me before he shut the door in my face sans dinner.
Yeah. Lucky friggin me. I get a mattress.
I guess it beats the damn basement he was once obsessed with throwing me in.
At least in my bedroom, I can sneak out the window without detection and call the boys from my secret cell phone.
Even with the bars on my windows. They’ve become useless to keep me in.
Somehow, JJ maneuvered the bars in a way that my father will never find out they’ve been tampered with.
“Yo, Buttercup!” Mack hisses through a whisper, tapping on the bars over my windows. “I'm here to bust you out!”
“Come out,” JJ whispers with excitement, lightly tapping on the bar.
A loud bark rings out through the night air, pulling me to the window with a grin. Waffles wags his tail, yipping at the two standing outside my one-story window.
“Waffles, man! You can't be so loud. We're busting our girl out. Not trying to get caught.” Mack glares at Waffles, who slightly whimpers and sits on his furry butt while pouting.
“You hurt his feelings,” JJ mutters, patting Waffles on the head. “Be a good boy.” Waffles raises his nose and nudges JJ’s arm like he understands the command.
I grin. “Please hurry. He just left like twenty minutes ago.”
Mack scoffs, “Yeah, I know. Had that kid with him, too.” He rolls his eyes.
“Got in his loud ass car. That’s how we knew it was safe to come and get you.
Probably driving away and plotting his takeover or some shit.
” Facts. My dad hasn’t been around a lot.
At first, I thought it was jobs Franco was sending him on, but now I’m not so sure.
Not to mention the companion he brings with him.
A kid I met once, the night he was rescued from a terrible situation.
Now, my dad keeps the kid around him, but never here.
Oh, no. He has a special place where he hides him, and then they do business together.
Probably in an upscale apartment or some shit.
I frown. “Yeah. He's been with him a lot lately. I'm starting to think he's up to something. You don't think?”
Mack shrugs. “Hopefully nothing serious.
Maybe it's something for Franco or whatever.
Let's roll. We're going to the Coliseum to dig for more treasure.” He grins at that, earning a soft bark from Waffles.
“Boyyyy!” he whines, tossing his hands like a father chastising his son.
“You're not a good jailbreak buddy. Next time, I'm bringing Hux to the window, and you'll be the lookout out there.” He gives Waffles a sharp look again while waving toward the forest.
That’s how it’s always done. One of them waits in the woods, looking to make sure no one else is around.
Usually JJ will walk toward the front of my house and keep an eye on my dad, but today was different.
And Waffles? Well, he’s always right here beside Mack, barking up a storm and alerting the damn world that I’m leaving.
Surprisingly, though. We’ve never been caught.
My lips quiver. The memories are a gut punch. Uninvited and consuming. How dare they run through my mind without my damn permission. It’s like every glimpse of this world they’ve built in Greenwood has memories dislodging in my mind.
I don’t want to think about the past. Their smiles and laughs. I want to think about the future. AKA when I get to leave Greenwood again. Only this time, I’ll be on top while they’re squirming in a Veritas prison begging for freedom.
Our dog. Waffles. He was our baby. Family, even.
When I left town, I tore out everything the boys had done for me and threw them in the trash.
Including Waffles. But he never betrayed me.
He was always there, looking out for me.
Except that night. They must have locked him away so he wouldn’t follow them to my house and have to watch while they decimated me.
I suck in a breath when Waffles stops mid step. His ears raise. His head tilts.
Goosebumps break out on my flesh when I jerk back, practically falling into an unoccupied room. Tears form in my eyes as I lean my head against the wall.
I can't face my dog. What if he doesn't recognize me? What if he does? I am completely different. Especially in this disguise. But I don’t want him to recognize me. I don’t want him to know that I’m me. It’ll hurt too damn much to face that reality.
An ache forms in my chest as more memories pour through my mind like a damn movie. The same memories I hid deep inside my mind, practically erased.
They kept our dog.
But threw me away like trash.
I can't be here anymore. I can't walk in a figurative graveyard of the ghosts who haunt me relentlessly. Including Waffles. He never turned his back on me. Not intentionally. But the other three? I can't continue to stand in their weird frat house with my heart in my throat and pretend I'm okay.
So, I find Simon on the ratty couch, pouting about the girl who ditched him for the other girl.
Who happened to be her girlfriend. Simon is crestfallen when I drag his drunk ass out the front door and past the raging party happening next door.
It’s the same type of thing. Loud music.
Partiers screaming woohoo on the inside.
As we pass by on the sidewalk in front of their house, the hairs on my arms stand on end when Malic leans over the railing of his porch and grins at me knowingly.
“Wanna party?” he asks, raising a glass.
“Too much partying!” Simon grunts, covering his mouth with his fingers. “Oh, snickerdoodles,” he gags out before bending over and tossing his cookies on their lawn. And oh boy, that’s a lot of red margarita vomit.
How poetic.
“We’re all partied out, thanks,” I say, making sure to lower my voice. He’s psycho enough he might recognize the cadence of my voice, and I can’t have that. He’d probably follow me home and live in my closet.
“That’s a shame. Tell Simon to feel better.
” Malic tosses back his drink and continues to watch us until Wilder comes out on the porch with an unlit cigarette between his lips.
They exchange heated words with Malic gesturing all over the place, but I’m unable to hear them over the sound of Simon’s heaves.
And damn.
I rub Simon’s back as he continuously vomits on their lawn, and I eye Wilder under the rays of the moonlight. He’s shirtless, and just as I suspected, he has tattoos on almost every surface of his body. Fuck.
“I’m good now,” Simon slurs, leaning into me when he stands tall. “Goodnight, boys!” he shouts, waving to Malic and Wilder like they’re lifelong friends.
I raise a brow when Malic waves back, but Wilder doesn’t bother. His eyes sear into me, though, like he’s attempting to figure me out. Just like he always did when we were kids. Except back then, he hated my damn guts. Just like he hated his brother’s.
We couldn’t get out of there fast enough and back into our dorm, where I tucked Simon into his bed and made sure he fell asleep on his side.
Little snores pour out from between his lips as I leave a plastic bowl, Tylenol, and a glass of water at his bedside.
At least if he vomits in his current position, it should hit the bowl, and I’ll hear everything he does.
His roommate is MIA, and so is mine, leaving Simon in my care.
I sigh when I step through his open bedroom door, opting to leave it open so I can hear if he needs me.
Once the quiet of my room sinks into my skin, my brain won't stop turning over the night's events. Them. The dog. Hux’s apparent fiancée.
For the first time in a long time, I sink into my fluffy pillow, pull the comforter over my head, and cry.
I sob for the ghosts of my past. The memories. How they ruined everything. Stole my life from me. And for what?
This? This life they're living now?