Page 23 of Oliver

The old me stares back but for the loss painting my eyes and with a grimace, I turn away, pulling clothes from my closet until I find my skinniest jeans and a pretty shirt at the back.

After I’ve dressed, I smooth my hands down the fabric and drop to the bed. Although it felt good, normal to primp, I have nowhere to go.

While I wait for Mom to come home, I scroll through social media, rolling my eyes when I find that the Sinners are having a party at Ramsay’s home.

Is Oliver drowning his woes in alcohol and chicks? Or maybe he doesn’t feel a damn thing about his father’s arrest.

What if he’s running scared? There are still many gaps in this story that don’t make sense.

I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’m free and Dixie’s killer will rot in prison for the rest of his life.

Bored, I go to set the phone aside but pause when it buzzes in my hand. It’s an unknown number but I press send, and say, “Hello?”

My fingers are numb as I push the door open and step through the threshold.

Loud music assaults my ears and I cringe before following the crowd out to the back patio. Under any other circumstances the view would be magical with twinkling lights strewn across the expanse and candles flickering on every available surface. But I don’t see the beauty, all I see is Oliver standing by the pool, with his hands in his pockets.

He scans the crowd with an icy expression while the students around him dance and laugh. His eyes stop on mine, and he stands from his lean, pushing through the crowd. Now that I’m here, I can’t move. I’m frozen in fucking place as he stops before me.

“What is it, little one?” he says, and my legs fail me before I drop to the ground.

I have no energy left and sag against him when he picks me up, cradling me against his chest.

I don’t know what he plans to do but for just a single fucking moment, I’d like for someone else to drive this damn bus on the road to hell.

A few of my former peers turn at the spectacle and Oliver carries me toward the door. Idly, I look over his shoulder until I meet Hailey’s wide eyes.

At the sight, I go rigid. She’s a reminder of why I can’t trust Oliver. It was foolish to come here.

We pass into another room before Oliver closes the door behind us. After setting me on the pool table, he tips my chin and says, “What happened?”

Despite seeking him out, I can’t bring myself to speak the words and instead I whisper through numb lips, “Why? Why did you send her for me at Fight Club?”

“What?” His brows furrow and he steps back. “Penny, I didn’t make fucking Hailey hit you over the head.”

“Then who did?” I whisper.

“My father? Fuck, I don’t know.”

Suddenly, being here crawls at my skin and scooting to the edge of the table, I search my pocket for my keys.

I came here looking for something Oliver isn’t capable of giving. Stupid that because I knew he was a cold-hearted devil, and I wasted my time anyway.

“What’s going on? Where are you going?” Oliver asks and since I don’t have the energy to argue, I mumble, “To the hospital.”

“The hospital, Pen—“

Stumbling out the door, I pass the assholes living it up while once again, my world crumbles around me.

Of course, he barrels right over my wishes and follows me to the door. When I stop and stare dumbly at the wood, he touches my arm and says, “Penny?”

“Oliver?” I whisper.

“Yeah?”

“When does it stop hurting?”

The silence that follows my statement would be amusing except nothing feels funny right about now.

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