Chapter 4 – Oliver
The hot water hits my shoulders, but it does nothing to quiet my mind.
Ellie.
That’s her name.
So beautiful.
So sweet.
Too sweet for someone like me.
I still can’t believe she works with me now. I still can’t believe she looked at me like that — soft, polite, like she didn’t remember who I was or what happened back then.
Why am I thinking about her so much?
I promised myself I wouldn’t fall for anyone else again. I promised myself I’d stay away from anything that even looked like love.
But here I am, standing under scalding water, replaying the way her eyes flickered when she saw me. The way her voice softened when she said hello. The way she looked in that uniform — confident but nervous, like she didn’t know how bright she was.
I shut off the water and step out, towel around my waist, but my head is still spinning.
Now I’m lying on my soft carpet, staring at nothing, and I can still hear Gage’s voice in my head, telling me to talk to her.
I can’t.
I don’t know how to.
Not anymore.
“How could I ruin something that hasn’t even started?” I whisper to myself.
Why did I smile at her as she was walking out the door?
What a dumbass.
“Great job, Oliver,” I mutter sarcastically, dragging my hands over my face.
I should stay away from Ellie… even though part of me knows I don’t want to. Something about her pulls at me, like a thread I’m scared to tug on.
“C’mon Moony. Let’s go for a cruise.” I say softly as I slip her collar on.
Moony lifts her head from the bed, tail thumping lazily before she stretches — long, slow, dramatic — like she’s been waiting for me to say those words all day.
Moony is my best friend with four paws. Even though she likes to take up my whole bed.
But who am I to judge her?
She is just my sweet baby.
People see her and assume she’s dangerous. Pitbulls always get that reaction. But Moony is the gentlest soul I’ve ever known. She nudges my hand when I’m sad. She curls against me when I can’t sleep. She listens better than most people do.
I have feelings too.
I just don’t know how to show them.
As I cruise around town, I notice the sky shifting — we’re getting close to sunset. A beautiful golden sunset, the kind that makes everything look softer than it really is. The kind that makes you think maybe the world isn’t as harsh as it feels.
Moony sticks her head out the window, ears flapping, eyes half closed like she’s smiling. The breeze ruffles her fur, and she looks so happy it makes something in my chest loosen.
“What a beautiful thing, huh, Moony?” I say, smiling.
Cruising around with my dog. Going to the park. Laying on the grass till it’s dark.
It’s the routine we already have.
It’s the only thing that feels safe.
Being in the house can sometimes feel like a nightmare — as it reminds me how lonely I am. Even when I’m not technically alone.
My mom.
My sisters.
My grandma.
They are always there.
But most of the time, it feels suffocating.
I get my own room, but privacy feels different when I’m around my family. It’s like the walls are thinner. Like every thought echoes too loud.
Ever since my grandpa passed away, everything feels quieter.
And broken.
He was my strength.
My father figure.
The one person who understood me without me having to explain anything.
And as I grow up, I realize he was my everything.
Sometimes I still expect him to walk into the living room with his old baseball cap and say, “What’s on your mind, bubbles?”
But he doesn’t.
And the silence that follows is the kind that sinks into your bones.
Hours pass, and the breeze hits differently now. The sky has shifted from gold to deep blue, and the moon rises slow and steady, lighting its way across the path like it’s guiding us somewhere I can’t name.
I park near the quiet side of the park — the side no one really uses. Moony hops out and trots ahead, nose to the ground, tail wagging.
I sit on the hood of my car, staring at the moon.
“What if I did things differently?”
“What if I acted less heartless?
“Would everything be better?”
I ask myself these questions all the time — even though I already know the answer.
I can’t find a way out of hurting.
And until I find the way,
I will always feel like this.
But I can’t let the past control my future.
Not anymore.
The moon glows against the windshield, and for a second, I almost believe myself.
Almost.
Then it hits me — fast, sharp, like a nerve I didn’t mean to touch.
Natalie.
Her voice.
Her laugh.
The way she looked at me right before everything shattered.
It flashes through me so quick I grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white. My chest tightens the way it always does when her name even brushes my mind.
Moony shifts in the seat and nudges my arm, sensing it — she always does. I swallow hard, trying to breathe past the sting.
I told myself the past wouldn’t control me.
But moments like this… it still tries.
Moony nudges my arm again, soft and steady, like she’s reminding me to breathe.
I do. Slowly. But the ache doesn’t leave.
And that’s when it hits me — not the memory this time, not Natalie’s voice, not the past clawing at me.
It’s Ellie.
The thought of her.
The way she looked at me.
Soft. Kind. Like I wasn’t the mess I know I am.
And it scares the hell out of me. Like I wasn’t the mess I know I am.
Because she feels like something new.
Something I don’t know how to handle.
Something I don’t deserve.
I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, staring at the road ahead like it has answers.
Ellie scares me… because she makes me feel like I could be someone better.
And I don’t know if I’m ready for that.
I don’t know if I can be that.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.