Page 93 of Oliver

“Asshole,” I mutter, dialing Maeve instead.

“Yeah?” she says and my throat closes. I don't even know what to say. There’s a dead dude in my dining room, can you please send your boyfriend to get him out? Yeah, no.

“Hey, it’s Penny. Have you seen Oliver?” I whisper and roll my eyes. Again, the fucker is dead, he can’t hear me.

“Ollie? No, not since yesterday. You tried calling his phone?”

“Yes,” I grit through my teeth. Of course, I tried. Fuck. “Can you please try calling him for me?”

“I…guess but he’s not much into speaking to me these days,” she says, and I frown. He’s avoiding his sister too. Jesus, Oliver. Life is fucking precious stop pushing people away. Gah.

“Can you please just try?” I ask.

After she agrees, we hang up and I pace the floor waiting for a return call. It takes what seems like forever before she calls back but my heart sinks when she says, “He wouldn’t answer. I’m sorry.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I say, “Look, I’m kind of in trouble here…”

“Hold on.” There’s a shuffling noise on the other end of the line before Diem says, “Yeah.”

I’m not a big fan of Diem but Ramsay is worse and right now, I’ll take either one of them. I mean, the Sinners must know how to dispose of a body, right?

“Um,” I stutter.

“What?” he grumbles. “Maeve said this was an emergency.”

Oh ho, am I interrupting his day? Too bad, fucker.

Curling my lip, I sneer, “Well, I guess having a dead guy in my house isn't an emergency. No problem, I’ll call back later.”

When silence greets my statement, I wince. I’m being a bitch while simultaneously asking for help, not a good move. Praying for patience when I glance over and swear the fucker twitchesagain, I whisper, “Please, he’s dead. Dead, dead. And it’s really fucking creepy, and I don’t know what to do.”

Finally, he says, “Sit tight.”

After that, he hangs up and dropping my hand, I stare at the corpse once more before shaking my head. I swear to god if someone doesn't hurry, I might lose my mind.

As soon as they roll up, I open the door and wave them inside. It’s just Diem and Ramsay which is fine by me if they solve my little or rather large issue. Diem stalks past with a scowl while Ramsay walks by my side and we stop before the corpse.

“What happened?” Ramsay asks and I give a brief overview.

Ramsay raises a brow and glances down. “Interesting. What was he so afraid of…?”

Clearing my throat, I open my mouth when finally, Oliver says from behind us, “Someone looking too deep and finding his depraved lifestyle.”

Shuddering, I spin around, biting back a pained moan and snap, “Where were you?”

Oliver’s mouth flattens and he says, “Out.”

“Out? Out! I needed you, Oliver!”

“Yeah, well don’t need me,” he barks, and I flinch, blinking back tears. Okay, way fucking harsh. Asshole.

With a sigh, he brushes past me and kneels by the body. Now is not the time to argue with the soulless fucker but you better believe I’m saving up my rage to spew on his hateful heart for later.

Meanwhile, I close my damn mouth because I don’t want to interrupt their plans. That and my tongue fucking hurts from the fall.

Diem motions and says something I can’t hear. I don’t particularly care where this fucker ends up, so I turn away and collapse to the couch before burying my head in my hands. For every step forward with Oliver, he takes two steps back. What happens when he falls right off the cliff just to avoid me?

It's really demoralizing but not new. Oliver has been battling this, whatever it is since the day we started fucking and not for the first time I wonder if my affair with Mr. G isn’t coloring his vision. Maybe he can’t see past it. Maybe I'm wasting my time?

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