Chapter 36 Jj #2
"No, no, no," I hiss, backing away from my laptop. My heart slams into my ribs and tears roll down my fucking cheeks. "NO!" I shout, pulling at the ends of my hair. Heaving a few breaths, I force myself back to my computer and follow them to their suite.
I don't know who the fuck he is. But her...
Her...
It can't be her. I have to be seeing shit. She's dead. She's in the ground, in the cemetery just twenty feet away. I visit her fucking grave. I watched as she was lowered into the ground.
No.
It absolutely can't be her. It has to be someone who looks exactly like she did.
Or a little different. She's older. More mature than Olivia would have been.
Her face is... I swallow the lump in my throat, zooming in on the woman in the lobby.
The woman who absolutely can't be fucking Olivia.
No. She's a lookalike. That's all there is to it.
No matter how many similarities I find as she walks with the mysterious man to their room, dragging her suitcase behind her.
My heart drops when I lose them to their room on the top floor. The video continues, displaying their hallway. Time ticks by. This is them. They came from the SUV that damaged Livy's grave. I followed it from the dark graveyard all through town, never losing sight of it.
It's them.
And...
I cock my head when breakfast comes on a cart and the man answers the door, wheeling it inside.
His head stays down, so I can't make him out.
The cameras on the inside of the hotel are of way better quality than the ones on the outside.
Now that I've pinpointed the people who occupied the SUV, I can watch their moves and hack into the hotel's registry to hopefully get a name for them.
From there, I can easily track them down.
On a separate window, still giving me a view of the hotel room, I hack into the hotel's guest list, checking through the room numbers.
Jonathan Viotto.
I sit back in my chair. Bile rises in my throat.
Viotto? I shake my head. No. This has to be a goddamn trick of the mind.
But how common is that last name? Viotto.
I hang my head, shaking it. Nope. This is a mistake.
I'm missing something. Bringing my gaze back to the computer screen, I reread the name assigned to that room. Two guests. One name. Jonathan Viotto.
Something rattles in my chest. Something that feels like the depths of hope, overpowering the despair I've felt for years. We've always been in the dark about the day Olivia died. Maybe her family is back in town to... to...
My thoughts trail off when she comes out of the room, rage contorting her face.
I pause the footage and take her in. She doesn't bother to hide her gaze as she looks straight ahead.
Her familiar brown eyes narrowing down the hall.
Her fingers curl into fists like she's ready to take someone down.
I keep her image there, staring and staring until my eyes play tricks on me.
It can't be. I just… I can't believe it.
She looks... She looks so much like Olivia. Yet, slightly different. There are scars lining her face. They're faded, like whatever happened was a long time ago and not recently. There’s tension there. Anguish. Every emotion swirling in her eyes. The same eyes I used to stare into under the stars.
I press play on the video, following her everywhere and keeping my eyes on her.
She travels down the sidewalk, lost in thought, until she lands at a bar—X Marks the Spot.
I snort when her nose wrinkles, and I don't even register more tears falling down my cheeks when she goes inside.
From there, I watch her carefully from their surveillance footage, recoiling when fucking Malic Monroe shows his fucking face and takes her down a hallway that has no cameras.
I'm fuming by the time she emerges, blissed out, and holding a piece of paper.
Fuck.
I continue to watch as she makes her way back to the hotel.
And I watch when she emerges again as someone I've seen around campus. Someone I've had a suspicion of. Someone with short hair and baggy clothes.
Oliver Davenport.
And if the feeling in my gut is telling me anything, it’s that I need to have a long discussion with the person behind the Oliver mask.
Could it be Olivia? Could it have all been a lie…
Well, I guess I’ll see.
Quickly, I close my laptop, run up the stairs to get dressed, and dash out the door.
There’s only one way to find out if all the hope building inside me is true.
I head to Oliver’s dorm room like my ass is on fire.
Nothing can stop me now. Not the people calling my name or attempting to gain my attention.
Not Amanda waving me down and jogging toward me.
Nothing.
If Olivia is really out there. If my eyes are playing tricks on me and the grainy footage is nothing more than a mirage, then I’ll find out.
If anything comes of this, I know Oliver is not the man he says he is.
He’s a woman, dressing up to attend this college.
He went into that hotel room as a woman and came out in baggy clothes, a suitcase, and a friend escorting him here.
My chest aches when I throw open the dorm entrance and run up the stairs until I make it to his room.
I swallow hard, pounding on the wood urgently. My heart explodes in my chest when footsteps come from the other side and the door swings open.
“JJ?” Wade asks, contorting his facial expression. “Er, can I help you, man?” He nervously shifts from side to side and cocks his head.
“Oliver. I need to speak to him.” Only, I don’t wait for an invitation, I barge into their dorm.
“Dude,” Wade groans, shutting the front door. “Rooms over there.” He waves a hand in that direction. I don’t hear what he says or does afterwards. Nothing matters when I open Oliver’s door, and it slams into the drywall.
“Whoa!” Simon shrieks, tossing the popcorn bowl that’s sitting on his lap. His eyes widen at the sight of me standing there with sweat dripping down my temples and my chest heaving.
After overexerting myself last night on our mission, I shouldn’t be running through campus like this. Not only will it draw attention to myself and whatever I potentially find, but my body aches and curses me for having the audacity to run so quickly to get here.
But there wasn’t time to waste. I already did that this morning.
Oliver is here for a reason. He’s in disguise.
I swallow the lump in my throat when my eyes connect with Oliver’s. They’re wide, watching my every move. But there’s pain there, too. Something deeper that I can’t dissect from here.
“I need a word with Oliver.” My gaze darts to Simon, and I glare into his eyes when he stiffens. It doesn’t take long for him to jump out of Oliver’s bed and grin.
“Oh!" Simon jumps up. "Is this initiation stuff? Oh my God, Oli." He turns to grin at him, excitedly waving a hand. "This is it!" he whispers hoarsely and then peeks over his shoulder. "But uh, he looks a little murdery. Do you want me to stay?"
Murdery? I loosen my shoulders, which rise to my ears, and take a deep breath.
“No murder, I promise.” I study Oliver again. Taking in the faint scars I noticed on the cameras. More specifically, the slash across his throat.
Moisture leaves my tongue a dry desert as I take in the familiar freckles dotting his nose and cheeks. Fuck.
"I'm not getting it this time!" Wade shouts frustratedly from outside the door as someone else knocks on their front door.
"Probably our food. I'll take it to the living room. Meet me there and we can devour our lunch and sip on some piping hot tea." Simon grins at that, nudging Oliver slightly when I reluctantly nod.
"Yeah, it's fine," Oliver says, clearing his throat.
I hear the hint of softness in his voice.
A familiar one I almost erased from my mind.
"You go eat, and I'll deal with this..." This time, Oliver’s voice dips low, like it had been all the other times we had interacted. He shoots me a wary look, like he’s not quite sure how to take this.
Honestly, I don’t know either.
Now that I’m here. Now that I’m staring at a ghost I should have recognized the moment she walked on campus.
Simon brushes past me and stops. “Can I be in your initiation, too?” he asks with a grin, batting his eyelashes.
“Uh, sure,” I say absentmindedly. Not bothering to pay attention to his words properly. I’m sure I’ll regret it later. But right now?
I’m too damn distracted from the sight in front of me.
Simon leaves with an excited clap, leaving me and Oliver alone.
My heart pounds so rapidly, I swear it’s the only thing I hear in my ears when I close the bedroom door behind Simon.
It’s a shame the school doesn’t add locks to these dorm rooms. I could use one right now.
Then, no one would disturb me and the ghost of my past.
I lick my lips and turn around, facing the girl I thought was dead for five years.
The love of my life. The girl I ache for every night when I lie in bed.
I know for a fact that when she stands, holding a knife in her hand, my gut feeling was right.
Rage burns in her eyes, mixing with something I can’t place.
She stands tall, despite the slight twinge on her expression. Something is eating her up.
Maybe the guilt from hiding from us for so long when she’s clearly alive.
Whatever it is, we’re going to squash it right here and now.
Because the girl I thought was dead is alive, and she’s standing in the same room with me. Breathing the same air as me. Proving to me that we were lied to, and she ran away.
And she better have a good fucking reason for faking her death.
“Spitfire,” I manage to whisper through my closing throat. “You’re alive.”