40. Olivia
Olivia
Once I’m out of the shower and dressed in a pair of loose shorts and a shirt with nothing underneath, I go back into my bedroom with a heavy sigh of relief.
No bra. No binder. No boxers? This is the third-best fucking night since my roommates have been away. One I will rejoice in while I have the opportunity to let go and wander around this dorm as myself. Olivia. So long, Oliver. You’re gone for tonight.
“You know, Waffles. One day, I won’t have to wear that stuff anymore,” I say, staring at the binder and boxers on the ground with narrowed eyes.
“I need real underwear, boy. Women’s panties.
Something comfortable.” I swear those boxers do nothing but go up my ass and give me constant wedgies all day long.
I long for comfort. I long for women’s clothes to lounge in without making anyone suspicious.
I heave a heavy sigh, staring at Waffles as he tilts his head, listening to my every word.
“Now, I’m having full-on conversations with you.
” That’s not a new thing, though. Waffles and I had many conversations.
Well, me talking and him listening. He looks directly at me, raising his golden ears higher.
I run a finger through my wet strands. “And I’m going to need a real haircut soon.
I’ll start looking like my old self if I don’t.
” Waffles wags his tail several times and yips like he understands what I’m saying.
Hell, maybe he does. He’s always been an intuitive dog and a great listener.
I blow out a breath. “You need a drink, boy? I think I have a big coffee mug that you can use for some water.”
I don’t wait for Waffles to respond to me as I go to the kitchenette and pull out a coffee mug Wade uses almost every morning.
“Sorry, Wade,” I say with little regret, filling the overly large mug with fresh cold water.
When I turn around, Waffles is sitting behind my legs, looking up at me expectantly.
I grin, putting the mug on the ground, watching as Waffles laps it up until it’s empty.
A loud burp escapes him when I pick the mug up and put it in the sink for later.
“I’ll get you more later. Why don’t we watch some Lost?
There’s a dog on there that looks exactly like you.
” I pet his head and make my way into my room with him hot on my heels.
Together, we plop down on my bed after I grab my laptop, and I lie back, propping my pillow up, and get comfortable. Waffles slowly inches toward me until his head lies on my chest and his eyes glue to the screen of my laptop situated on the edge of my bed.
“You know, Waffles. I’ve missed you a lot over the years. I could have used your company so many times when I cried myself to sleep.”
I’d admit that to no one else. Only Waffles. I’m sure Jordy heard me several times in our many years as roommates, sobbing into my pillow over the heartache of what happened. Thankfully, he never said anything or teased me about it.
That’s the thing with Veritas Agents: the very fabric of our souls was blemished by trauma that caused our deaths.
We each carry a piece of our history in our hearts and emotions.
It forces us to wake up each day and face the very thing that put us in the Veritas bunker.
Because we wouldn’t be there without the heartache.
It took me many months to stop the tears and replace them with rage. I guess that’s part of the healing. And now, I’m back at ground zero again, going through the motions of my grief, rage, anger, and everything else.
Waffles licks my chin several times until I run my fingers through his long blond fur. Then, he settles, huffing when I stop again.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” I giggle, petting him again and again until he relaxes completely against me. Small snores emit from between his lips, puffing out with every breath he takes. His legs twitch and his body jerks as he slightly whimpers in his sleep.
I wish I could be him and fall asleep that quickly.
My entire being tenses under Waffles when the entire building shakes from the thunder roaring overhead without warning.
Fuck! Where was the lightning? My fingers dig into Waffle’s fur as I clutch him closer, wishing I were anywhere else but here.
Or alone. This is one of those times when I wish I was still in the Veritas bunker and storms didn’t rattle the building.
“I’m not made for storms, boy,” I breathe, wincing when a bright flash of light cracks through the sky, illuminating my window and Waffles’s face.
Followed by a low, bellowing roar of thunder echoing from the clouds and rattling my window.
I swallow hard, scooting closer to Waffles.
“I’m an agent of the law, boy,” I murmur in a shaky voice.
He stares at me, cocking his head again.
“I shouldn’t be this terrified of storms, you know?
It’s ridiculous. I’ve trained for everything.
I can take on full-grown men in fights and win.
I can take down a fucking cult and put all the bad guys into prison.
But this?” I breathe the last part, squeezing my eyes shut. “I can’t do this.”
It stirs up too many memories. The face my father would make when he grabbed me by the back of my shirt and threw me out into the grass.
Nothing inside my brain is rational right now.
It’s spiraling with every roar from the clouds and spark of light in the sky.
Fear erupts deep inside me, clawing its way through my trembling body and chaotic mind.
My thoughts twirl around the darkness. The night my father left me out in the storm.
He wanted to see me a blubbering mess. He wanted to destroy every molecule until I was nothing more than shit beneath his shoes.
Even if I’m twenty-two and live my own life.
He left a lasting legacy with me. Fear. Anxiety.
Utter bullshit. I should be over this by now.
I shouldn’t be cowering next to my dog and shaking from head to toe.
But here I am.
Even that night in the cemetery when rain pelted us and thunder clapped, I was so fucking terrified.
Of it. The mission. Whatever Jonathan was going to say.
No matter how calm I seemed—or didn’t seem, because let’s be real.
Everything about standing above my own grave with a flashlight and a storm above me was enough to do me in.
Waffles warm tongue licks up my face as he moves closer, almost lying completely on top of me for comfort.
“It’ll be over soon,” I wheeze out to him, eyeing the storm with wide eyes, and watching as it descends outside my window.
“It’ll be over and…” Lightning streaks through the sky again, cracking against the wind speeding through the trees and whipping them around.
Thunder roars once more, not giving me any time to count inside my head.
It’s here.
The storm has fucking landed.
I jerk back when a loud crash of lightning flashes several times in the sky. All at once, the power flickers off, and my laptop dies at the edge of the bed, taking my entertainment and distraction away with it. Fuck. Fuck. Why didn’t I charge it before now? Why did I unplug it in the first place?
In my head, I count like Hux taught me so many years ago.
“One… Two…” But I barely get through two before more rumbling thunder shakes the building, and I’m trembling beneath my comforter and Waffles on my chest. He licks my face more, whining when I put my nose into his neck, and takes several deep breaths, filling my brain with his outdoorsy scent.
“Breathe, Liv,” I mumble to myself, inhaling as much as my lungs will allow.
They squeeze with every breath, forcing me to wheeze, but I manage to get several deeper breaths in.
Too bad it doesn’t tamp down the panic bursting to life inside me.
I jerk again when another crash happens and pull the comforter up toward my chin and squeeze my eyes shut. Breathe. Breathe. Fuck. Suck in oxygen. My brain repeats it over and over until I do. I jump again when my bedroom door bangs open and a dark figure stands between me and my freedom.
With trembling fingers, I reach for the knife that sits below my mattress, feel for it, and grip the handle. I won’t let anyone get the best of me anymore. Not tonight. Not when I’m shaking from the terrible storm outside or at my most vulnerable.
“Spitfire!” JJ’s voice filters through the chaos of the storm.
“It’s me,” he says, holding up his hands like he didn’t break into my damn dorm room.
He’s lucky the lightning was bright enough to show his face before he met his doom.
“Don’t stab me,” he quips with a hint of humor as he marches toward me and Waffles cowering on the bed.
Don’t stab you? Fuck. I loosen my grip on my knife, fighting through every instinct I have to put it back and not stab JJ in the damn neck for breaking into my room.
Blowing out a breath, I try to shake away the trembling running through my body before he gets to me.
But it’s no use. He kneels at the edge of my bed near my face, looking down at us with concern.
His brows furrow, and his dark eyes take in every tremble.
“You’re okay,” he murmurs softly. “And you, you traitor,” he grumbles, reaching forward and running his hand over Waffle’s head, who still lies on my chest. “I wondered where you went.”
Oh, so it was he who dragged Waffles all the way over here? Why?
“What are you doing here? How did you…” My voice trails off as my brows furrow when I look past him. “You broke in,” I accuse in a breath.
Or he’s sneaky and has a key. I wouldn’t put it past him, honestly. If he’s as good a hacker as he says he is, then who is to say he doesn’t break into people’s rooms, too?
JJ rolls his eyes with a huff. “Do you really want to be alone?” he asks, eyeing me up and down.
Do I?