Page 32 of Little Did You Know

The words tumbled out in a desperate rush. "I'm not asking you to marry me." My fingers twisted together. "I can follow your rules. I can't keep doing this"—I gestured at my torn dress draped on the floor—"or that. I can't keep humiliating myself like tonight." The last part came out as a whisper. "And I think you're special. You make me feel things I've never felt before."

"Oh god." He dragged a hand down his face. "You're killing me."

"Look, you don't have to decide tonight," I whispered, eyes fixed on him. "Just... think about it."

Nick paused at the doorway, one hand braced against the frame as if he needed the support. In the half-light, his expression was unreadable, but I caught the rise and fall of his chest—too quick, too shallow.

"Olivia." My name in his mouth sounded like both a prayer and a warning. He swallowed hard, his throat working. "I'll think about it."

He lingered for three heartbeats more before stepping back into the hallway. The soft click of the door closing echoed in the sudden emptiness of my room, leaving me alone with the ghost of what I'd just asked for—and all the ways it could break us both.

Chapter Fifteen

Sleep pulled at my limbs, dragging me under after days of restless nights. Three AM. The house creaked, settling into darkness. Just a few more breaths and?—

A scream shattered the silence.

My head snapped up, heart already racing. Another shriek echoed through the halls, higher this time, more desperate. Not a nightmare. Not mine, anyway.

"Olivia," I yelled, flying out of bed. The screaming didn't cease this time, and I couldn't get to her fast enough. I didn't bother knocking, flinging the door open. I searched the room for an intruder, but there was no one.

Jumping on the bed pulling her to me, I could see the distressing inner fight Olivia was having with herself and realized she was having a nightmare.

"Olivia." Her name came out rough, like I'd forgotten how to speak. She trembled against me, a leaf in a storm, and suddenly, she was twelve again. Same darkness. Same terror. Same helpless feeling clawing at my throat.

I pulled her closer, her heart hammering against my chest in broken rhythm with mine. "I'm here." The words felt hollow, echoes of promises I'd made and broken nine years ago.I'm here. I'll protect you. I won't leave.

Her fingers clutched my shirt, twisting the fabric until her knuckles went white. Each whimper drove another spike of guilt between my ribs. Back then, I'd known what to do—tell her stories, make her laugh, chase away the shadows with stupid jokes about her stuffed giraffe. Now my throat closed around useless words:You're safe. It's okay.Empty comfort from someone who'd abandoned her when she needed him most.

"Olivia?" I whispered her name like a question I was afraid to have answered. "Are you awake?"

She shuddered against me, caught between nightmare and reality. Nine years of nights like this one stretched between us. How many times had she woken up alone?

"Nick." Her whisper cut through my memories, fingers tightening around my hand.

She trembled against me, tears soaking into my shirt. "You're okay. Tell me what I can do." I brushed my thumb across her knuckles. "Water? Milk?" I paused. "Vodka?"

A watery laugh escaped her. She pulled away, swiping at her cheeks with the heel of her hand. "I want to run."

That answer surprised me, but then the realization hit me. She didn't run for exercise at four am every morning; she ran to escape the nightmares.

"Is that why you run so hard and fast so early in the morning?" I didn't need her to confirm because I knew the answer was yes. The first time I'd run with her, it had seemed she was running a race, but she was running to escape. “Then we'll run. I'll get changed; meet me downstairs."

Ten minutes later, we slipped out the back door and silently strolled down the dark path. Olivia's feet hit the track, and she was gone, a shadow against shadows. Around and around she ran, each lap faster than the last. I kept my own steady rhythm, watching her blur past me every few minutes. Her breathing grew ragged, desperate. Her footfalls became heavier, stumbling. Five miles in, I slowed to a walk, but she kept running—from what, I wasn't sure anymore. Running like the nightmares could be left behind if she just went fast enough, far enough.

This can't be good for her.

My gaze followed her until she finally stopped sinking to the grass. Approaching her, I handed her a towel. Neither of us said anything, so I sank to the ground next to her, giving her time to catch her breath.

The full moon shone bright in the night sky; the sun wasn't scheduled to rise for another hour. With only the comfort of the large track lights, the darkness around us was oddly soothing. Olivia's breathing was more even now as we continued to sit silently on the hard gravel of the track.

"How long have you been doing this?" My voice scattered across the empty track.

She tilted her head, brow furrowed.

"Running like this." I gestured at the pre-dawn darkness around us.

"A couple of years, I guess." Her gaze skipped across the horizon, never settling. "One morning in the new house," she hugged her knees to her chest, "Emmett was gone, and the walls just kept getting closer and closer. I felt like I had to get out of the house, so I ran and kept running until I forgot why I was running in the first place." She paused, swallowing hard. "After that, when I had a nightmare, I got up and ran."

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