Page 56 of Oliver

No. Do I believe? I’m not sure. My brain is screaming at me to rail against him for the shit he’s pulled but my aching heart tells me something more is afoot, and I need to see beyond the mask Oliver excels at hiding behind.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s going on, Oliver?”

At my question, his shoulders stiffen, and he inches away from me. I feel the loss to my bones but reaching out now would be foolhardy. He sure as shit isn’t volunteering anything. Why? Because he’s protecting me or snowing me?

That’s the thousand dollar fucking question. And until I know the answer, I’m stuck wondering who my friends are and even worse, my enemies.

I made a mistake accepting his comfort while my mom was dying because somehow, I allowed him past the walls carefully constructed around my heart and now I don’t know how to push him back around the barrier.

All I know is the unanswered questions eat at my skin like a fucking disease and only he has the cure. Too bad his walls are impenetrable. I’m not seeing anything the fucker doesn’t want me to see and it’s a lonely place to be.

My throat closes with the misery constantly circling my soul. I miss Dixie with every fiber of my being but the farther we get from her death, the harder it is to feel her presence.

She’s an ache that won’t go away. Now, my mom is gone and knowing she only held out long enough to learn of Mr. G’s arrest is bittersweet.

I guess I refused to see what was right in front of my face. When will I learn my lesson?

With a groan, I roll over to the other side of the bed and sit up.

Fight Club was a bust, but I still have Oren’s story to contend with. What does Bone know?

Despite the circumstances, I’m grateful Oliver swooped me up and brought me home. I needed the time to regroup. I’ll have to go back for my car, though. Whatever, at least I got out.

“What the hell happened at Fight Club, anyway?” I ask.

Oliver grunts and stands, facing me with his pretty if dispassionate green eyes. “Some fucker with a gun.”

“Oh,” I say with a shiver. Wow. No wonder everyone was running every which way.

“Penny, we need to talk about this.” He drops something on the bed, and I eye it quietly before finally picking up the crinkled pink piece of paper and smoothing it between my fingers.

I’d recognize the loops and swirls of Dixie’s handwriting anywhere, although the signature pink paper is a dead giveaway.Show me what crawls beneath your soul and I’ll show you mine.

“Where did you find this?” I ask, looking up.

A shadow crosses Oliver’s expression before he says, “It was on your windshield.”

Okay, that’s creepy. But why? What does it mean? Who put it there?

“Do you recognize it?” Oliver asks.

I consider my options carefully before saying, “It’s Dixie’s handwriting.”

Oliver turns, once again denying me and I sigh. For all I know, Oliver put this on my car. That’s the problem with Oliver, you never truly know he was there. He’s like a fucking ninja and only after he’s stolen everything do you realize it’s gone.

“What can I do to make you stop?” he asks quietly, and I exhale.

Good question but it doesn’t take me long to say, “Tell me the truth.”

Chapter 18

Every day is the sabbath for me.

Oliver

I met Penny my first year in school. While my peers steered clear of me because of my odd ability, at least in their eyes to comprehend complex shit most five-year-olds don’t give a shit about, she approached me with her wide brown eyes and that fucking dimple and proceeded to ask me question after question after question.

Looking back now, I think I understand why my parents got tired of the same but back then, all I knew was this little girl with an insatiable need to know, wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone.

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