Page 96 of Oliver

Averting my gaze, I nibble on my lip. I don’t even know how to process this. Dixie was going to kill me. When? How? Why?

Did she have any doubts? Would I be dead if she was here?

“Is this why you were threatening her?” I ask and Oliver eyes me coolly before nodding.

Wiping the stupid tears from my eyes, I whisper, “Thank yo—“

“Don’t thank me, playpen. Look, where we are now.”

“Oliver, that’s not your fault…”

Flinging out his arm, he growls, “No? You don’t fucking get it, Penny. Myfatherfucked you for one reason.”

Huh? How did we go from Dixie to Mr. fucking G? I’m so confused, all I can do is stare until the words penetrate my foggy brain.

“R-Reason? What are you saying?” I whisper, dread slithering down my spine.

Sighing, he rubs his hand down his face and when he’s done, the cold as fuck bastard I hate stands before me. “I baited him.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, stepping back. What does he mean?

“Playpen—“

“Just tell me,” I spit, and he clenches his jaw.

“I put you in his path.”

”That doesn’t make sense,” I rasp, staring at him dumbly. Frankly I’m not sure I even understand what he’s saying.

“Look,” he says. “I knew he had a wandering eye. And I knew if I pulled you out of the crowd, he would do the rest.”

“Do…the…rest…? What does that mean, Oliver?” Once again, I’m standing on the edge and I know, I fucking know that whatever comes next is going to push me into the fucking air. This time though, I’m not sure there will be anything but cold, hard ground to catch my fall.

“He has a type,” Oliver says with a twist of his lips and a tingle of rage dances across my skin. Just fucking tell me!

“Why?”

When he shakes his head, I scream, “Why?”

“Because I had to prove—“

“Prove or be fucking right?” I sneer and he bows his head.

Stepping around the bed, I approach while he considers his words. Asshole. Once again, he can’t just spit out whatever it is he’s feeling.

“It’s complicated,” he finally says, and my hand is in the air of its own volition. He doesn’t so much as flinch when my palm cracks across his cheek and I say, “It’s not fucking complicated. It’s sick. You’re fucking sick. Not only that but my sister came to you, and you let her die.”

He knew what was happening and he did nothing. Nothing.

“Penny,” Oliver says quietly, and I shake my head, whispering, “You knew your dad was a psycho piece of shit. You knew.”

When I raise my gaze, I flinch because his gaze couldn’t be colder but all at once, the hurt pushing at my throat becomes too much and I grab his shirt, sobbing, “Why?”

I don’t even know what I’m asking anymore. Why me? Why him? Why fucking Dixie? This is all so fucked up.

Oliver goes to grab me, but I step back and shake my head.

I’ve got nothing left to give and my soul fucking hurts. Turning away, I grab my shoes and put them on, saying quietly, “Did you send your skeevy dad my way before or after you planned to ruin my reputation and force me from that school?”

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