Page 78 of Oliver

“Why?” he grunts, stepping toward the bathroom. “What has love given you?”

With that he closes the door behind him, and I collapse to the mattress.

Okay. Yes, love is heartache sometimes but fuck me, what’s the point of living without love?

When we emerge from the room, Oliver is cool once more, and I follow him to the kitchen with a frown. I don’t know what my reception will be and beyond that I’m disturbed by Oliver’s state of mind.

Does he truly believe that love is stupid? Why?

Four pairs of eyes land on me the second we pass the threshold and with a weak smile, I wave. Ramsay’s brows rise but he doesn’t comment as Maeve points at the chair next to her.

Once I’m seated, Maeve passes me a dish of eggs while Oliver plunks down a plate and silverware.

My heart sinks when he takes up a spot at the breakfast bar, sipping from a mug with I presume coffee.

Silently I eye his yummy arms every time he raises one to drink before taking a scoop of eggs and dropping them to my plate.

“So? What happened?” Diem grunts.

“What makes you think something happened?” Oliver asks coolly and I shrink in my seat.

“Because she’s here,” Diem grunts, turning to look at Oliver.

My stomach roils and I stare at the food dully. Whatever I said turned Oliver to ice. Why?

Because I hit a nerve or because he’s running scared? It’s not like I professed undying love. Although, a pit forms in my already aching stomach when I admit that I want that from him.

Stupid. The only time he ever shows affection is in the form of sex. Not true. A tiny voice protests. He held you when your mother was dying. Hell, he held me this morning until I ruined it, talking aboutfeelings.

“Eat,” Oliver commands and I grit my teeth.

Mulishly, I drop my fork and snarl, “Fuck off.”

I’m tired of his fucking demands. I’m tired of his goddamn perfect face and icy cold heart.

“Penny,” he says with an impatient sigh, “you need to eat.”

Maeve’s head moves back and forth between us with wide eyes while Willow turns to Ramsay. He smiles and covers her hand. The sight does nothing to ratchet my pain though and raising my palms up, I say, “What I eat, is none of your fucking business.”

Setting down the coffee on the counter, he approaches me with flared nostrils before saying, “What you eat, when you eat and how you fucking eat it is my business. Now eat, before I hold you down and shove the fucking food down your throat!”

“Ollie,” Diem growls.

Oliver raises his icy cold eyes to Diem who only glares back with a warning I can’t decipher.

“You have a problem?” Oliver says, arching his brow.

“Yeah, I do,” Diem says gruffly.

“Then, get the fuck out of here,” Oliver says, slamming his hands against the table.

I jump right out of my skin. I’ve never seen Oliver react to anything but with his icy cold demeanor, this much passion leaves me speechless and strangely breathless. He’s beautiful in his rage.

Interjecting before this can go any further even though I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, I whisper, “I’m not your problem.”

Oliver’s head turns my way and I simultaneously shrink away from him and squirm. He’s not cold now. Holy fuck, his eyes might burn me where I sit.

“You, Penny Loughlin…You are my fucking problem,” he snarls, shoving against the table abruptly before stalking away.

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