Tis The Damn Season
OLLIE
DECEMBER
Ishould never have come to this. Had the recital been that bad? No, the kids actually did a pretty damn good job. Was the dinner shit? Also, no. Not to mention the desserts were absolutely killer. Was this actually a really nice thing for the group home kids? Yes. God, yes.
But it made me so damn uncomfortable. Because in each one of those kids—from the youngest to the oldest, who looked like she was about to age out—I saw myself.
I’d been in their shoes. I’d gone through it all. The highs, the lows. The hope and inevitable disappointment.
And more than that, a small, selfish, broken part of me was jealous.
I’d never had anything like this growing up.
For as long as I can remember, the holidays had been shit.
Maybe I’d just been stuck in crappy foster and group homes.
Maybe I’d just gotten the shit end of the stick…
And I know it’s not like these kids had it all that great at the end of the day—they still weren’t with their families, after all.
But, a part of me envied these kids for having something this nice put on for them.
Which made me feel really damn shitty.
Maybe you make your own luck. Your own happiness. The thought hit me like a ton of bricks.
Was I the problem? Had I really had it as bad as I remembered, or was I so broken and angry and bitter that I pulled this veil down over my head, blocking out any of the good in my life?
It didn’t feel that way, but then again, weren’t we all the heroes of our own stories? What if I was really the villain? A hero wouldn’t be jealous of a bunch of kids.
A lump lodged in my throat and my chest tightened painfully. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was this hitting me so damn hard?
I looked around the room once more, panic welling in me, reminding me of if I were in, like, one of those movies where I’m stuck somewhere where the water keeps rising higher and higher as the seconds passed.
Each breath felt like it was labored, numbered.
Cash was busy talking with Maverick, Ryder, and Bad.
Charlie and Cheyenne were taking care of their little ones.
Quinn and Hux had gone over and were playing with one of the foster kids.
Walker and the ranch hands were God knows where.
I wonder if they’d left—we all had an early day tomorrow so I wouldn’t be surprised.
I should have been paying more attention.
Everyone felt like they fit in right at this moment. Everyone except me.
I didn’t belong here. I should never have come.
All the while, my panic kept rising. Higher. Higher. Higher.
I darted from my chair, not bothering to offer up an excuse or goodbye to anyone. It’s not like they’d likely care or notice anyway. Everyone was busy doing their own thing.
The cool night air kissed my cheeks as I opened one of the side doors and stomped a few paces down before leaning against the side of the brick church, but the wind did little to ease my panic.
Why was I such a mess? My breathing was ragged, my chest felt all tight, and it’s like my heart might jump out of my throat if I opened my mouth.
I hadn’t had a panic attack in a long time.
So long that I’d apparently forgotten how the hell to deal with them.
Which only made me want to panic some more.
Shit. Shit. Shit… Okay. Think… Breathe.
Right. Pacing back and forth, I placed my hands on my head, forcing icy breaths of air into my lungs. Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision until hot streaks of liquid slid down my cheeks. Jesus, I was crying too?
Breathe.
But that wasn’t working. Not when it felt like I had an eighteen wheeler parked on my fucking chest.
“Ollie?” I jumped. Hadn’t really expected anyone to follow me out. That low, familiar, usually smooth as velvet voice held a note of worry in it. Not generally like him.
I tried my best to keep myself turned away from him, giving myself an opportunity to wipe the tears from my cheeks. Trying to take a deep breath, only to feel like I was choking on air, I managed to gasp out, “What’s up?”
Cash didn’t miss a damn beat. “You okay?”
I nodded, still refusing to look at him, not trusting my voice enough to answer aloud.
“Sugar?” The warm pressure of his hand on my shoulder should have calmed me—and in recent months, he did seem to have some sort of soothing magic on my soul—but right now, just the thought of him touching me was too much. His kindness, his worry, it was too. Damn. Much.
So, I did what I did best. I pushed him away.
Pulling out of his grip, I forced a bite into my words as I snapped, “I need to go.”
“What? Why?” A confused frown settled in the corners of his mouth. “Talk to me.”
Why did it stir something in my chest hearing him sound so concerned?
Probably because deep down, it felt nice to have someone so invested in my wellbeing.
I know I played the lone wolf role really well, but…
I don’t know, something about this place, these people, him, made me feel different.
Made me feel like maybe running away for the rest of my life wasn’t the answer anymore.
Which was scary as all hell.
I ignored the thought, though, as I started walking away from him. “This was a stupid fucking idea.”
Cash didn’t let me get far, his hand on my wrist gentle yet firm as he forced me to face him. “Ollie, slow down. What the hell’s goin’ on?”
“Just let me go, Cash.” The words lacked the vitriol and anger I’d intended. I sounded tired, defeated, and I hated it.
Cash’s hazel gaze bore into me, his brows scrunched up in that way they always did when he was frustrated or didn’t understand something. “Not until you tell me what’s goin’ on,” he growled out.
Oh yeah, he was frustrated. There wasn’t a lick of the easy-going, carefree cowboy right now. If I weren’t such a damn trainwreck, I might be—no, would definitely be turned on by this rare assertive, dominant side of him, but as it was, I just wanted to go crawl in a hole and cry.
“Why are you so worried about me?” My voice quaked as I tried to brush past him.
He pressed me up against the wall, caging me in so I couldn’t run away. The muscle in his jaw feathered before he blew out a stilted breath and said, softer than I’d have expected, “Because…I care about you, okay? You’re hurt and upset, and I…well, fuck, I wanna make it better.”
My heart raced in my chest, but for an entirely different reason than panic. Which was bad. Very. Fucking. Bad.
“I told you not to fall for me,” I choked out, the words little more than a whisper.
Cash’s gaze was hard, harsh, but not as harsh as his voice. “Oh, cut the bullshit, Olina. Do you always gotta be so goddamn stubborn and prideful?”
I rocked back against the wall. Did he really just use my full name? Well, I’d never regretted telling anyone that so much until right now. He’d only ever said my real name once. One time. The night of our first hookup. He knew I hated it, yet still he’d used it.
I rolled my eyes, huffing a bitter laugh as I said, “That’s really rich coming from you.”
He slammed a fist against the wall, not hard, more so out of frustration. Raking his teeth over his bottom lip, he finally shook his head and sighed. “Yeah, exactly. So for me to fuckin’ call you out, means you’re really goin’ outta your way to be a stubborn shithead.”
Was he fucking kidding? Anger stirred to life in my chest, not a single hint of anxiety or panic lingering in my veins. I opened my mouth to respond, but he spoke right over me, his words paralyzing me in place.
“Why’s it so bad to have someone care about you?” he snapped. “Do you really enjoy livin’ your life a few months at a time? Constantly runnin’? Findin’ a new place to settle down in? A new job? A new life?”
Well, fuck me. I hated that he knew exactly what to say to piss me off. But more than that, I hated that he saw right through me. Because Cash and I…we were like mirrors of each other. Two sides of the same coin, or some bullshit like that.
We were one in the same, yet completely different.
Our lives couldn’t be any more unalike, and yet we understood each other on a whole different level.
I opened my mouth to respond, but I couldn’t get anything out. It’s like the words had dried up in me and withered away to dust.
“You run because you’re scared,” Cash went on. “You’re scared that if you stay, you might just fall for someone and get hurt.”
I gritted my teeth, sucking in a deep inhale to snap back, “So? It’s no different than you going and fucking any girl willing to have you.
You’re just as scared of getting attached and falling for someone too.
But you can’t fall for someone if you don’t have feelings, right Big Daddy?
” I huffed a bitter laugh. “You have no room to lecture me about emotions when you’re just as shitty at dealing with them as I am. ”
I tried to brush past him once more, but he wouldn’t let up. His arms were like a cage, holding me in. The dominance, the possessiveness, the harsh look on his face gave me pause, stirring something low in my belly. For the first time in my life, running was just about the last thing on my mind.
“I know how I feel about you, Ollie.”
One sentence. Eight little words. I didn’t think I’d feel like I’d been shot by a single sentence, but it’s as if all the air had been vacuum-sealed from my lungs. “Cash, stop. Please,” I whispered, a fresh stream of tears pricking in my eyes.
“Why? You gonna run away?” His tone, his gaze, his domineering stance blazed with challenge. “I’ll just chase you down and carry your stubborn ass all the way back.”
“You wouldn’t,” I growled out. But I knew he would. He’d done quite a lot over these short few months. Hell, he’d run into a burning fucking building to save me.