Page 34 of Forbidden Obsessions

She waves me off. “How could you have known that my step brother was a psychopathic asshole madly in love with me to the point of obsession?”

“I know. I’ve walked around blaming you for propositioning and blackmailing me, but it was me as much as it was you. I hope, someday, you’ll forgive me.”

“You seem really happy with Olivia. She brings out a side of you that I’ve never seen.” Vanessa gives me a small smile before picking at her nails.

“Yes, she does. Definitely my better half, as the saying goes,” I agree, laughing softly.

“I wanted to be that person for you so badly, DeLuca. I can’t even begin to tell you, but Liv could. She gets it. I’m not telling you this out of jealousy or spite. I’m just… happy for you,” she says, swallowing thickly.

“Is he gone?” I ask abruptly. She hasn’t mentioned what happened. If he’s walked away from unscathed again, I’m going to hunt him down and fucking kill him myself. Rage stirs in my stomach. The urge to hurt is overwhelming.

“Yes, he’s gone,” she says hoarsely. I sag in relief. The beast in my chest tampers down a bit. “I’m here to say goodbye and apologize one final time,” she says suddenly.

I quip my brows. “There’s nothing here for me,” she says flatly. “My stepfather will have me killed if the truth comes to light about Nathan. My mother doesn’t give a fuck about me. The dating pool is trash,” she shrugs.

“So, where are you going?” I press.

“Wyoming, for now. Wherever I want, eventually.” For the first time since she’s resurfaced, she seems at peace.

“Well, good luck wherever you end up, Vanessa. I mean that as your former professor and an old fling.” Crimson creeps down her cheeks and neck.

“Goodbye, Tomas. Keep that girl happy.” She turns on her heel and leaves, hopefully to find the happiness that she never found here.

I stew on her words. Olivia does bring out a good side of me. I’m more patient and understanding, less sarcastic, and more empathetic. Even Vanessa noticed it.

On the other hand, I’m a joke.I mean,fuck.Look at my track record of blurred boundaries and power imbalances. I punched astudenton her behalf. I’ve engaged in underage drinking, made lewd jokes, fucked in classrooms, and much more.

She deserves someone better, someone more mature, or closer to her current walk of life. I’m more than willing to give her time to heal and come to the conclusion on her own. Hell, maybe she already has. Hopefully, she already has. I desperately want to give her forever, but I don’t think it’s in our cards.

Chapter Fifteen

Olivia

“Mia, we should probably move from this fucking couch.” I take stock of the living room and kitchen.

“Probably,” Mia agrees, munching on a carrot stick. It looks like a frat party has come and gone, leaving us two to deal with the wreckage. In many ways, that’s not far off.

It has been a week since my life imploded. Outside, the world goes on. I just can’t bring myself to deal with it. Mia and I are pretty shaken up. Dad, Matt, and Lex have been in and out to drop off food. Other than that, we’re excused from classes and milking it.

Tomas had been radio silent. To be fair, I haven’t contacted him. I told him I needed space and time. He’s been giving me that. There’s no reason for me to be disappointed, yet I am.

“This is the longest we’ve ever gone without talking,” I admit, chewing on my lip.

“Are you missing him?” Mia asks, more than likely to appease me. We’ve had this conversation a few times now.

“Yes, but I’m still angry,” I pout.

“Then pick up the goddamn phone and call him, Liv. Wouldn’t you know, life is short.” I roll my eyes, trying to ignore her snarky attitude. We’ve been at each other’s throats since I’ve been back here every day.

Across the floor, my phone starts vibrating. That sick, unreasonable part of me expects it to be Tomas. Nervous butterflies flutter in my stomach.

“You gonna get that?” Mia grumbles, invested in some Netflix show about serial killers.

“I guess,” I sigh. Not Tomas.Dad.

“Hi, Dad. We have enough food.”

“Olivia,” he says in a strangled tone. My pulse rate spikes as I wait for him to continue. My mind tries to guess his next sentence. It only lands on one possibility:Mom’s dead. Mom’s dead. Mom’s dead.Here I am on the couch all week, moping like a little bitch when Mom is going through painful treatments and trying to stay alive.

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