Page 113 of The Retreat

“Why? You hate me.”

“Because my brother loves you. That means you’re one of us, and we protect our own.”

Owen’s strange profession of love before he left hits me in the chest again. I start to shake my head, but stop when it makes the world turn. “Owen doesn’t love me.”

“Owen was arrested for brutally assaulting your father. Do you for one second believe he’d have that kind of emotional response for anyone else? Unlikely,” Oliver says it like I’m a moron missing the point.

He’s wrong, but I don’t have the mental capacity to argue with him. I can barely keep up with him on a good day. “Whatever.”

“No. Not whatever. Owen doesn’t like people. Ever. He tolerates me and Olivia because he doesn’t have a choice, and I’m an asshole and force him to, and it’s easier to just do what I want. You though, you’re different. He’s happy with you. I hate to say that you are what he needed, but I can’t ignore the signs. I’ve never seen him happy before you.” Oliver shrugs like it’s a weird little thing he just must accept and not be bothered by. “So you’re part of the family, like it or not.” Oliver’s idea of family would be forced.

I don’t have a response to any of what he said, and him being nice is creeping me out. I must look worse than I expected. “You got one thing right. You are an asshole.”

Isaac snickers, and we pull to a stop at the curb outside of their building.

“Why are we here?”

“Because you need a babysitter, and I’m not sleeping on your couch. I’ve seen the pictures. You’ve done grotesque things on it.” Oliver rolls his eyes and exits the car, offering me a hand out. I stare at it for a second, then take it, secretly grateful for the assistance.

We get upstairs with minimal fuss, and I head for Owen’s old room. I don’t know if I’m hoping it still smells like him, like us, or not. I know a part of me will find comfort in it, but it’ll hurt like hell too.

When I open the door, it wafts over me. Owen. It’s so strong it catches in my lungs.

“Are you okay?” Isaac has a hand on my lower back in case I fall.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m fine.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

I shrug a little, my shoulder protesting the movement. I don’t want to be here, but I have nowhere else to go. I wish I could just disappear.

“Do you want to shower? I can run a bath in the big tub if you’d rather do that.”

I probably need a fucking babysitter for that, too. The last thing I want right now is for anyone to see me naked. It’s just more vulnerability. “No, I just want to sleep.”

“Okay.” He ushers me to the bed and pulls back the blanket. They must have had the cleaner in here since the bed is made with what looks like military corners.

I get settled and basically have to force Isaac to leave. I just need time to process and break. No one wants witnesses to that. Curling on my side, I let the tears fall. Let my body feel the fear and anger and rejection. I let my body shake and tremble, soaking the pillow with tears, and muffle my sobs with the sheet.

How long I lay there making a mess of the bed, I don’t know, but I’m exhausted when I calm down. I try to sleep, but I can’t. I roll over and try that. Nope.

Sitting up, I look around and see the chaise lounge in the corner. There’s a longing in my gut to be under it that I’m not strong enough to ignore. Grabbing the throw blanket off the end of the bed, I slide under it and cover myself in the blanket. There’s barely enough room for me to curl up on my side, but I manage it.

Why is this so comforting? I guess I understand why Owen comes under here.

There’s a soft knock on the door, and it cracks open.

“You can rest here as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” I mumble.

Oliver pauses in the doorway but doesn’t say anything else, just closes the door quietly and leaves me in peace.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Owen

Bail is set the next morning as soon as our lawyer can get before the judge, and I’m returned my stuff and released to Oliver.

---