Lethal

Chapter 23

Twenty-Three

Olivia

I curl up in bed, clutching the pillow like it might hold me together, but it’s not.

I’m breaking, piece by piece. My chest hurts, my head is pounding, and no matter how many times I whisper, “I’m sorry,” it’s not enough.

It will never be enough. I betrayed Hayden.

My best friend. The only boy who ever saw me without trying to change me, was my friend even though we came from different parts of the world.

And I lied to him.

I sold his freedom to save my mom. I hate the people who forced my hand, who cornered me until my only way out was through him.

I hated the way they smiled while they broke us.

The way they reminded me that my mother’s life wasn’t guaranteed, but Hayden’s downfall, that was something they could ensure.

I scream into the pillow, tears soaking into the fabric. I’ve lost him. Not just his smile, his laugh, the comfort of his arms. I lost the future I pictured for years.

I destroyed us. And the worst part? He’ll never know why.

PRESENT DAY

The class is finished finally, and all I can feel is Hayden’s eyes on me.

I’m not sure which is worse, the silent treatment or if he keeps being mean to me. At least when he is being mean he’s talking to me. I miss him.

I wait for the classroom to clear, keeping my head down, my books pressed tight to my chest. The less people who talk to me the better, I’ve been staying out of Abigail's way. Jen is the person I don’t want to be around.

Listening to her talking about her relationship with Hayden, and what an amazing boyfriend he is.

He can’t be that amazing, he kissed me. So, as far as I’m concerned she’s just a whore for him.

Once the class is empty I grab my bag and make my way to my car, hoping no one stops me. As I walk through I feel a group watching me, it can only be one of two groups. Hayden’s or Leo’s.

Four months, that's all I have left. Well, that's what I keep telling myself, but it’s not helping me at all. Four months is a long time in a place you don’t want to be, it can feel like four years.

I make it to the parking lot without a word from anyone, and slide into the driver’s seat. The silence in the car is a relief until I see the note I crumbled up and threw on the passenger seat.

Taking a deep breath, I pick it up and look at it again.

WE WILL PLAY AGAIN, LIKE OLD TIMES.

I then look at the other note I got the other day, which is the one which replays in my head.

Don’t say a word about why!

My stomach turns; this is the fourth one I’ve had. I know who it is it’s - Leo. He’s playing mind games with me, but it won’t work. He’s not winning again, not happening.

I throw the paper on the passenger seat again, I want to scream, to cry, to punch something. Something to help take out this anger I have building up inside me. My day didn’t start on the best note, and it just seems to be getting worse as the day is going on, and its only mid-day.

I reach for my glove box and pull out the small first-aid kit, well it’s not really a first kit, it’s a small bag with a few band aids in there, and a bandage which I’m hoping is enough to sort the mess my palm is in.

I start to change the bandage on my hand, gritting my teeth as the gauze sticks. I yank a little too hard. I ripped my wound and it started bleeding this morning.

“Dammit.” I close my eyes as the pain moves through my body. Right now, I hate my life, and I want to curl up into a ball and cry.

I hear a knock on the window, the passenger side, but I choose to ignore it, hoping the person thinks I’m sleeping and will leave me alone, but it’s not my lucky day as another knock comes.

Opening my eyes I turn slowly to the window. My brows knot together. Miles? I stare at him through the glass. And before I can stop him, and without asking for permission, he opens the door and slides inside like he belongs there. We both know this is the last place he wants to be.

As he sits he picks up the note, and before he can get a better look at it, I quickly take it from him. But I have a feeling I’m too late, and he has seen it.

“Let me change it,” he nods at my hand.

“It’s fine. I can do it,” I reply before he can say anything else. I’m not one hundred percent sure if he'd be nice about it, or if he’d hurt me just to make me feel pain.

Miles gives me a dry laugh. “I know Hayden can stitch up anyone better than some ER doctors, so how’d it starts bleeding again?”

I stare at Miles wondering how Hayden knows how to stitch people up, he never wanted to be a doctor. I don’t answer him. I don't want to explain the note, or the anxiety crawling under my skin since I woke up this morning, and my mom having a bad day.

“Give me your hand.” I hesitate and glance over at Hayden, who is still outside, talking with Mason and the others, but watching me.

Miles takes my silence as permission to take my hand into his.

I look down at him looking over my hand and shaking his head.

“What the hell did you do to it?” Again, I don’t answer him, Miles looks through my bag and laughs.

“This is all you have?” Again, I say nothing and I watch him cleaning it and then bandaging it up.

“How’s he doing?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Miles continues working on my hand, which tells me he won’t say anything, but then I hear him, “He’s surviving. That’s all I can say.”

“I never meant to hurt him,” I reply.

He finally looks at me, his eyes aren’t kind, but not wanting to kill me either, their blank, almost like he doesn’t care what I have to say.

“You did. And when you find out what happened to him in there, you’ll understand why we don’t like you.”

I sit there, Miles' words cutting deep. I try to say something to break the tension, but nothing is coming out of my mouth, or I’m trying to find the words to say to him.

“Miles, I can’t change anything. But I need you to know, I love him. I never stopped. Sorry isn’t enough—”

“No, it’s not.” He finishes the bandage around my hand and gives me one last hard look, then steps out of the car, without another word.

I’m never going to be able to fix what I broke, even though it’s all I want to do.

The club lights flicker, like they do every night. The pulse of bass vibrates through the floor beneath my feet as I step in through the staff entrance ten minutes early. I told myself it was because I like being on time, but really, I need to talk to Mr. Cain.

My head hadn’t stopped spinning since last night, since finding out who he is I’ve been too scared to come into work.

It’s another packed night, the crowd is already pressing against the railings, drinks in hand, laughter echoing off the walls.

Somehow, despite the chaos, I feel like I belong here.

There’s something safe about the repetition, the routine.

This place gives me a reason to forget for a few hours every night.

No one here knows me as anything other than Olivia, the girl behind the bar with a halfway decent pour and a smile which is masked more than anyone could guess.

And yet, now I know who Mr. Cain really is, I can’t stop questioning everything.

Why give me the job? Why not hate me like the rest of them do? Why does he look at me like I’m not the monster they all believe I am?

My palms are sweating when I knock on his office door, then open it quietly when I hear him say to come in.

Cain is seated behind his desk, going through paperwork.

I've never really been in here apart that one time when he gave me the job, and last night. I stand just inside the office, eyes to the floor. “I just, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. If I’d known who you were, I wouldn’t have applied.

I would never want to be anywhere Hayden might turn up.

I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t. I just wanted a job.

I needed something stable. I’m not trying to cause problems, I promise. I didn’t—”

“Stop.” His voice isn’t loud, but it carries weight, a weight I don’t understand. I shut my mouth immediately, biting my lower lip.

Mr. Cain leans back, folding his arms, and studies me with the kind of look that makes it hard to keep eye contact.

“My name is Cain Crawford,” he says calmly. “But that stays between us. Out there, I’m Mr. Cain.”

I swallow hard and nod. He stands up and walks around the desk, which for some reason makes me take a small step back. Cain leans against the edge of the desk. His posture is relaxed, but I don’t think that is a good thing.

“I know who you are, Olivia. I’ve known from the beginning. Before hiring you, I asked Hayden.”

I blink; my chest tightens. “Hayden said… I could work here?” That’s not a question. It’s me thinking out loud to myself.

Why? Why would he let me work here? Does he want me close? Or is this some kind of punishment?

“I’m not sure why, but you hurt my brother.

I’ve done a lot to protect my family, but I couldn’t protect him from your lie.

” Cain stops when I look at him in shock, wondering what he means by that.

“That man trusted you with his life, and you fucking ruined it. You have no idea what your lie did to him, not just with hockey, or school but mentally you have no idea. You have no idea, but I’ll give you one, he became a man who closed his heart to anyone, a man who'd put himself in front of a bullet to save his family because he doesn't care if he dies or not. But as long as I’m alive, nothing will happen to him, that's a promise.” He stops, and I feel my eyes burning as I stop the tears from escaping.

“Olivia Banks, you broke my brother and now you refuse to fucking fix him by telling him the truth.”

“I can’t.” I whisper which makes Cain laugh.

“I know the truth, I have a file, yet Hayden won’t look at it, because he wants you to tell him the truth.

A file doesn’t hold up the way a confession does.

If he reads a piece of paper, he’ll spend the rest of his life wondering what you left out.

He needs to hear it from you, Olivia. After what you did to him, Olivia, you owe him that. ”

I stand there with no words. No words to say, no words even coming to my mind to say. Cain has the truth yet Hayden refuses to read it, everything I can’t say he has at his fingertips ready for him, but no, He wants me to tell him, if only it was so simple.

“You’ll continue to work your scheduled shifts. The second my brother says to get rid of you, I will. Until then, you’ve got a bouncer on you at all times. In case that idiot shows up again.”

My throat is dry, but I nod again. “Thank you. And again, I’m sorry—”

The door creaks open behind me, stopping me mid-sentence.

A laughter.

Mason.

Then I hear Miles joking about something, and then silence, they must finally see me.

The silence which puts a cold shiver through my body, and for some crazy reason the only person I can look at it is Cain.

My fingers curl tightly around the hem of my work shirt, grounding myself. Breathe. Just breathe. My body tingles all over the moment I feel Hayden walking into the office.

“Well, if this isn’t awkward, I don’t know what is.”

Cain sighs. “Mason.”

“Just saying. There's a lot of tension here. Maybe someone should open a window—”

“Mason,” Cain snaps again, which makes me jump.

He walks past me like I’m not even here. Doesn’t glance my way. Doesn’t pause. Doesn’t even flinch.

Just walks straight over to Cain, throws something onto the table, and for a second… my heart stops.

The keys.

I recognize them instantly, not just the keys, the keyring. The cookie, a treehouse, and a popcorn box. He said it was perfect but was mad at me for spending money on him.

But he still has it.

Even after everything, he still has it.

The air catches in my throat, making it impossible to breathe. I stare at the keyring like it’s a wound reopened. Something heavy crashes down into my stomach, rooting me to the spot.

He still carries it.

I blink hard, trying to ground myself. But the floor feels like it’s slipping under me. My fingertips twitch at my side. I shouldn’t care. He hates me. He should hate me. And yet, there’s still something about that keyring that makes my chest tighten with hope and heartbreak in equal measure.

“Hayden—” I manage, voice barely a whisper, raw and useless.

He doesn’t even glance at me. Doesn’t stop. He just walks past me again, this time heading over to Mason and Miles like I don’t even exist. Like I’m no one. Like I never meant anything at all.

My throat burns with the words I want to say and don’t have the right to.

I'm sorry. I miss you. I wish I could take it back. I wish you'd look at me like you used to.

But nothing.

I lost him.

And I don’t know how to get him back.

I can’t fix this. No matter how many apologies I give. No matter how many tears I cry when no one’s watching. No matter how long I ache in silence, watching him move through the world like I’m invisible is killing me.

I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know if it can be fixed.

“Thank you, Mr. Cain,” I say quickly, my voice shaking just enough that I hope no one notices. “I’ll get to work.”

I turn before I do something pathetic, like cry, or beg, or ask Hayden to just look at me and tell me he still sees me.