Page 153 of Remy

“I’m not going anywhere.” I don’t care if it’s what she wants or not. What she thinks she needs. “I’ve got you.”

She whimpers, her hands clawing into the lawn, her stomach viciously concaving with another retch.

“Please, Remy.” Her shoulders slump, her arms wobbling.

“Just breathe.” I rub slow circles on her back, cursing my inability to take her place. I’d willingly offer my only remaining parent to stand before death’s door instead of hers. I’d pay good money to make it happen.

She retches again and again.

“Breathe, Ollie.”

She sucks in deep breaths, her exhales huffing out on dry sobs.

Breath. Retch.. Breath…

I keep rubbing circles as her inhales lengthen, her lithe body incredibly fragile.

Sob… Breath…. Heave….

I want to kill someone. To fucking stab and torture.

That’s what I’m good at. All I’m good for.

In this, I’m helpless. Worthless.

Breath… Breath… Breath…

She bows her head, the epitome of ruin. “I don’t understand.” She leans back on her haunches, then flops onto her ass on the damp grass. “He should’ve told me.”

I agree, but there was no convincing him.

He didn’t want Ollie to suffer for longer than necessary.

I admire him for that. For facing a death sentence on his own to save his daughter from heartache. But damn it to hell, I fucking hate him right now too.

“What am I going to do?” She drapes a loose hand over her face, shielding me from her sadness.

“We’ll figure it out.” I sit beside her, close enough for our arms to brush.

“What’s to figure out? He’s dying, and I won’t be able to survive without him.”

“You’ll survive.”

“I have no one.” Her hand falls from her face and she meets my eyes, those shadowed depths tearing me the fuck apart. “My mom’s gone. I don’t have a close extended family. And I lie to Allison and Ivy so often that our friendship is tainted.”

“You won’t have to do that for much longer.”

She winces. “His death is the end of your agreement?”

I nod, gliding her loose hair behind her ear.

Her brow furrows but she doesn’t protest the touch. If anything she leans into it, her head tilting toward me, humbling me with yet another weakness toward temptation.

It’s a mistake to want more. Always so many fucking mistakes with Ollie. But I test the boundaries of her tolerance, gliding my arm around her shoulders.

She continues to oblige the contact.

I continue to indulge in it.

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