15. Mya
15
My hands were still shaking after Oliver walked away. They continued to tremble as I powered on my phone to text Gwen.
The shower water was running in the background as I sat on the couch and messaged her. As I did my best to remind myself Oliver was struggling, and he wasn’t truly trying to hurt me.
Me: I know the truth.
It didn’t take long for Gwen to decrypt my message and get back to me. Seconds, in fact. She’d probably already chatted with Carter and he’d given her the heads-up Oliver knew the truth, which meant I’d more than likely be in the know, too.
Gwen: I’m sorry.
Me: Now I know why you didn’t press so hard when I said you shouldn’t come with me.
Gwen: Yeah, well, I was worried about my dad ruining the trip by tracking us down if I did go with you. That wasn’t a lie.
Gwen: Buuuut I’d never have let you go alone if I didn’t know you’d be safe.
Me: Somewhere deep down, I knew. All of it, I think.
Gwen: Mad at me?
Me: No, but Oliver’s mad at me. Well, maybe mad is the wrong word. He’s in pain. I’ve never seen him like this. We used to argue all the time, but this is . . .
I wasn’t sure what to say or call it. Not broken. No, that wasn’t quite the right word.
Gwen: He cares about you. That hasn’t changed. Time heals all wounds, right?
Me: I wasn’t even . . . you know, and I’m not healed yet.
That fact kept tripping me up, because the journalist in me felt there was a story there. A truth to uncover. Another reason I was a-different-word-than-broken myself. Did something happen to me in the past I’d blocked out?
Gwen: I can’t imagine what you’re going through.
Me: I hope you never have to imagine/experience it. No one should. sad face emoji> Too many do.
Me: How do I get through to Oliver?
I needed to change the subject before I had a meltdown on Oliver’s father’s couch.
Gwen: Just be yourself.
Me: So, drive him crazy?
Gwen: I mean . . . now that I know the truth about you two . . . when you drove him crazy before, it usually led to you two naked between the sheets. Not a bad plan. Iffff (and when) you’re ready for that.
Me: I used to get naked by his bed as my wave-the-white-flag moment, my signal for a truce in the arguing. Don’t think that’ll work this time.
Me: Side note (important one, too)—he touched me. I even purposefully touched him.
Gwen: Define “touch.” covers mouth emoji>
Me: He grabbed me to save me from falling into a 30ft hole in the ground and wound up on top of me. So, hero-touching. And I put my hand on his shoulder, and he put his hand on mine. (I know, it’s the thing of romance novels. Notttt.)
Gwen: Or the textbook definition. We can text Savanna and ask. She’s the expert now. Her book does release next month.
Me: Thanks for making me smile. It feels good. Very much needed.
Gwen: But really, that’s progress. Maybe Oliver can help you as much as you can help him.
Me: And if he doesn’t want my help? Because he doesn’t even want me here.
Gwen: Men don’t always know what’s good for them. He’ll figure it out.
Me: Yeah, we’ll see.
When I realized I no longer heard the shower running, I stood and went in search of my bag. There was something important I wanted to give to Oliver, and in the midst of our arguing, I’d forgotten.
Me: Let me know when you hear from the team.
We exchanged a few more good lucks and goodbyes, then I worked up the nerve to reach out to someone I’d been dreading talking to.
My best friend didn’t have this phone number, which was why I’d yet to receive a lecture from her. She had to know what I’d done by now. Word was out that I’d taken off, so I had to do some damage control.
Me: Hey, it’s me. Yes, that “me.” Don’t be mad. You know I had to do this and keep it a secret. Well, I thought it was all clandestine-y.
Sydney wasted no time in her response.
Sydney: I was wondering when I’d hear from you. Took you long enough. You could’ve gotten yourself killed had Carter not assumed you’d one day pull a move like this.
Sydney: But you know that. (Redact what I wrote above.) Just tell me how you are. I know it wasn’t easy seeing him.
Me: I’m a mess, but trying to keep it together. I have no plans to leave without him, so don’t get into any trouble while you’re away without me there to bail you out.
Sydney: Me? In trouble? Never. (Did you hear me scoff all the way from wherever you are?)
Sydney: You’ll be okay, though. So will Oliver. Just no more secret escapes without me, got it?
Me: Yeah, I know, I know.
Sydney: I have to go. Talk soon. Love you.
Me: Love you, too.
That conversation went better than I thought. With that done, I tucked my phone into my backpack and removed the chain from the side pocket, curling my fingers protectively around it.
With the cabin being so small, it only took me a few steps down the hall to locate the bathroom. Was I about to enter the unlocked room uninvited? No. Was I about to ambush Oliver the second he stepped out? Yup.
When the door opened, I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t expected to see Oliver wearing only a white towel wrapped around his hips. The scowl on his face was very much anticipated, though.
Here goes. Before my heart wound up in my throat, blocking my ability to speak, I quickly said, “You never let go. You hung on. You waited for me, and I’m going to do the same.” I’d taken his words and flipped them back on him. “It’s my turn. If you need to push me away, then do it. Well, I mean, you’ll fail, but you can still try.” That was probably one of the most honest things I’d ever said, and I wasn’t sure if I’d have been capable of expressing those feelings had Doctor Riley Logan not helped me come to terms with them.
I did my best to look into his eyes, but it was so hard to do when he kept staring at me like he hated me. Like he wished he’d have let the ground swallow me down that thirty-foot drop.
My gaze drifted over to his shoulder to the tattoo that still needed to be fixed from his GSW. The skin was puckered and pink at the center of the demon that was beneath Saint Michael.
“Don’t do this,” he grated out like it’d been physically painful for him to speak those words.
“But you know I will.” Maybe Gwen was right, and I had to remember who I was before what happened in Thailand. Maybe it was the only means for us to both find our way back to the people we used to be. Okay, maybe we could never be those exact people again, but?—
“Why are you outside the bathroom?” he asked, cutting off my thoughts.
I couldn’t help but visually follow the trail of water droplets down his ridged abs that disappeared beneath the towel as I sputtered, “I have something that belongs to you. You left it at the office before . . . and well . . .” Great, this was going perfectly. I was the one now struggling to talk. A ball of nerves. “Here.”
I opened my hand, and the chain slipped down but the dog tags remained in place.
When he didn’t take it from me, I realized it was probably because he was afraid to touch me. So, I worked through my issues and reached up, preparing myself to place the chain around his neck.
“What are you doing?”
“My best,” I whispered. It was a gut-shot reaction, but it was the truth.
His brows slammed together, but he slowly bent forward a bit, allowing me to secure the chain around his neck where it belonged. I’d accomplished it without touching him. But oddly, I found myself, yet again, wanting to feel him. Touch his skin. To confirm he was real, and truly standing before me.
I reached out, about to do exactly that, but he gripped my wrist, stopping me. His eyes narrowed, realizing what he’d done, and he immediately let go, backing up into the bathroom.
“It’s okay. I’m okay. You can hold my wrist.” I gulped. “Or my hand.”
He pointed his eyes toward the vanity and away from me.
“Maybe I haven’t been able to handle anyone setting their hands on me these last few months, because you’re the only one I wanted doing it.” Shit, the tears were on the verge of coming again at that revelation. “But you were gone. So, if you couldn’t hug me, then I didn’t want anyone else to, either.”
He closed his eyes, hanging his head. Instead of responding to my statement like I hoped he would, in an impassive voice, he requested, “Do you mind stepping aside? I need to get dressed, and my clothes are in my bedroom.”
I blinked back the tears, knowing they’d simply forge a new path later, and did as he asked.
He opened his eyes and quickly walked around me.
I mindlessly trailed behind him. After four months of not seeing him, I didn’t want to lose sight of him. What if he disappeared on me again? Or, now that he knew there was a team on standby, what if he called Carter and told them to come pick me up and take me away?
Oliver slid open the closet door as I entered his bedroom. Ignoring the lack of an invite, I went over to his dresser and picked up the bottle there. Cologne I doubted he’d found in these parts of Canada.
“Margiela’s Replica.” I had the same bottle in my bedroom, and I’d spray it from time to time and pretend Oliver had been in the room. It kind of reminded me of a campfire. “You get deliveries all the way out here? Kind of surprised.”
“Bought it at the airport in Zurich last week. And no, no deliveries here.” He tossed his clothes on the bed, then set his eyes on the dresser.
Ah, he needed his briefs, and I was in his way. Shockingly, he’d yet to shoo me from the room.
“You’ll be sleeping in here this week. I’ll take the couch. There’s just this room and Dad’s.”
I couldn’t help but follow the V-lines that disappeared beneath his towel as he rested his hands on his hips. “I don’t want to take your bed.”
“Then you shouldn’t have come here, so too damn bad.” There was less bite to his tone than I’d expected for his words. Progress? “It’s lumpy and uncomfortable. You’re going to sleep like shit, but the couch is worse.” He tipped his head toward the door. “Now, go. I’ll get dressed and finish making your breakfast.”
I opened my mouth, but he lifted a hand, his silent request for me to shut up. “Fine, fine. I’ll be a good girl. For now. And be quiet. Well, quiet-ish.”
He scrunched his brow, staring at me. Oh come on, take the bait, I know you want to. You want to say something back to me.
When he refused to give me what I was sure we both needed, a fake argument that’d help break the tension, I set down the cologne.
“Breakfast, okay. Maybe that’ll help your mood.”
“Oh, for sure, I’ll be right as fucking rain after that.” His voice was low and deep, and I doubt he’d meant for his tone to come across so sexy, but it did.
And my body reacted to it. Hell, my nipples hardened.
Oliver’s eyes flew to my breasts. Of course the sports bra I had on under the tee, because I despised regular bras and underwire, hid nothing, so . . .
“Go.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please.”
I swallowed, not obeying. Because this was a big deal for me. This feeling. This desire.
He gave me his back, tearing a hand through his hair, but he quickly realized his mistake. The mirror over his dresser still gave me a clear shot of his dick starting to tent the towel.
A shocking smile snuck up on me, and maybe I hallucinated it, but I’d swear his lips twitched into an almost-smile, too.
There’s hope. For the both of us.