Page 77 of Oliver

Everyone was asleep when we arrived, and I didn’t ask when Oliver brought me to his room and slowly undressed me. Why would I when the closest I felt to this mercurial dick was when he was fucking me?

Not exactly romantic, but nothing about this situation except Oliver’s rock-hard abs and sizeable dick spelled sexy.

Now, once again, I’m caught between what I know I should do, which is avoid him as much as possible and what I want, which is to snuggle deep and never let go.

Rolling to my back, I stare at the ceiling and concede, either I’m completely crazy or deep down in my heart of hearts, I know Oliver didn’t hurt my sister.

This doesn’t mean he isn’t hiding shit. But do I want to know?

I’m already in a shit ton of trouble. The more I know the deeper I sink. What if I learn more than I can handle?

Dixie’s dead. Not only that but she hurt, no killed other people. Maybe they deserved pain, but did they deserve to die?

I don’t know. But I do know, I can’t save her now, just as apparently, I couldn’t then. I will regret that I told her my darkest secrets until the day I die. However, for all I know, all I did was provide fodder for an already broken soul.

I may be virtually alone but I’m not ready to die. Not for something that I can’t even make sense of. I love my sister, I do but she put herself in a position that ended her life.

And if she were here now, it’s possible she would still be out there roaming for another victim. It’s a horrible notion but maybe, she’s better off gone.

“Shit,” I whisper and wipe my eyes.

It hurts to admit but she was a monster, no better than Mr. G or those horrible assholes online.

My muffled sobs wake Oliver and I stiffen when he rolls into me and wraps me up from behind and says against my ear, “Sh.”

“How do you live with it?” I sob.

“With what?”

“Loving someone who’s a monster…”

His arms tighten infinitesimally before he lets go and drops to his back. “I don’t.”

Turning over, I stare at his ticking jaw and whisper, “Don’t what?”

“Love.” He waves his hand and I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest.

“What do you mean?”

He glances at me sideways before wiping his hand down his face. “Penny, I don’t know how to define how I feel about my dad, but love isn’t it.”

“Try.”

His brow furrows and I hold my breath. To my surprise instead of brushing me off, he says, “I don’t love my parents.”

“No? What about Maeve?”

He sighs and sits up. “No.”

“You don’t love your own sister?” I ask, unable to keep the incredulity from my tone.

“What is love anyway? People make that shit up to explain away their stupidity.”

“Sooo, love is stupid?” I’m not sure where this conversation is going but I don’t particularly like it.

“Yes,” he says, standing and I eye his delicious ass before shaking my head.

“Oliver, you can’t really think love is stupid.”

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