Page 120 of Lotus

He’s right. He’s so right.

Oh,God, he’s absolutely right.

A cry rips from my throat, a gut-wrenching, guilty sob, and I cup my hand over my mouth to keep more from spilling out. My eyes drift from Gabe to Travis, both faces etched with disappointment, before I twist around to find Oliver. He’s watching me, silent and worried, trying to piece together something I can’t even begin to understand.

I turn back to Gabe. “I’m so fucking sorry,” I whimper. A pathetic apology for a fatal error. “The gum… your chewing gum, I-I thought… Oh, my God.” Heaving in a breaking breath, I stumble forward, reaching for him. Gabe jumps away, disgusted. “Gabe, please, understand. Your gum is the exact same smell as the man who attacked me… eucalyptus. The scent has been carved into me since that night, and it just…triggeredme.”

Gabe’s eyes dart across my face, his forehead taut with anger, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He doesn’t reply.

“I justreacted. I didn’t think, I just…”

There’s nothing I can say. The damage is done.

I see it scrawled across his face, burned into his flaming jade eyes—eyes that have only ever twinkled with humor and affection around me…until now.

Yes, the damage is done, and I’ll be sifting through the rubble, desperate to latch onto a tarnished piece of what we had for the rest of my life.

“The gum was in a kitchen drawer,” Gabe finally says, his tone now deadly calm. “I thought it was Oliver’s, but it was probably leftover from one of my parties. Now, get out of my house, Sydney. I can’t fucking look at you.”

I swallow. “Please—”

“Get the hell out!”

Travis steps forward, pointing his index finger towards the front door like I’m a scolded child. “You heard my son. You need to go.”

Startled, I inch back, bumping into Oliver. I can hardly make out his expression through the blur of tears, but his arms are crossed, his body stiff. He probably feels just as betrayed as his brother, wondering when I’ll turn on him next. “I’m sorry,” I say, a small, mortified squeak. Then I race past him, down the stairs, not even bothering to grab my shoes or coat.

I just need to get out, I need air, I need todisappear.

I’m trudging through the snow in my slipper socks, the burning ball of shame inside me deflecting the icy wind that tries to knock me down. He’s jogging towards me, appearing by my side as soon as I reach my porch, dropping my shoes and coat beside us on the stoop.

“Sydney…”

Oliver takes me in his arms as I fall against him, a painful howl snuffed out by his chest as I shatter and wilt, the verity of my crime sinking its teeth all the way in. I weep into the buttons of his shirt, fisting the material between my fingers as I cling to him. Oliver wraps me up and holds me tight, kissing my hair, resting his cheek on top of my head while I break.

He says nothing, and I prefer it that way. He just lets me cry, and it’s an ugly cry, an ugly purge of ugly things.

With Oliver’s hands stroking my hair, his whispered hushes a soothing soundtrack to my grief, and the moon and stars our only witnesses, I mutter softly, “Thank you.”

Thank you for coming back for me.

Thank you for forgiving me.

Thank you for loving me, ugly parts and all.

The mood is solemn and quiet as we lie curled up on my couch, Alexis purring contentedly in Oliver’s lap, oblivious to the turmoil enveloping us. I’m exhausted, defeated, and I have no tears left to cry. It’s just the whooshes of wind outside my window, swollen eyes, and Oliver’s heartbeat pressed into my ear. His arm hasn’t left me since we stumbled in from the cold over an hour ago, a comforting promise that he’s still with me; he won’t let go. His fingers graze along my upper arm, his warm breath teasing my hair.

Nuzzling in closer, I reach inside to find my voice and finally break our silence. “There was no logic or reason or lucid thought in what I said back there,” I murmur, my throat dry and cracked. “It’s like I was taken over, possessed, living through that nightmare all over again, and I just spewed out careless words as my body reacted to the trigger.”

“You can’t attempt to find reason in trauma, Sydney.” Oliver squeezes my waist with a knowing grip. “Trauma is like poison. It seeps in when you least expect it to, and it lingers long after the initial dust has settled, inflicting more damage, more destruction. It’s a vicious cycle.”

“How do you cope so well?” I wonder.

“I don’t cope any better than you, Syd… just differently, I suppose. I spent twenty-two years fighting my battles alone inside my head, so that’s what I’m accustomed to. I’m wired that way. You react with external emotion.”

I nod against him in understanding, my eyes closing with a shaky inhale.

“I’d like to tell you there’s an expiration date on your pain, but I will never lie to you,” Oliver tells me, tender and kind. He places a kiss along my temple. “There will always be moments that take you by surprise and steal your breath. The fireworks, for instance—logically, I knew I was not in harm’s way, just as you knew Gabe would never hurt you.”

---