Page 196 of The Catalyst

“The only way I’m stopping is for food, sleep, or gas. Unless you ride my cock the whole fucking time.”

I pout. “You know I’m still too bruised for sex.”

He shrugs. “Sucks to be you, crazy girl. I guess we’re not stopping.”

“Asshole,” I grumble before nudging his leg with my barefoot, but instead of letting it go, he grabs my ankle and yanks it across his lap. I yelp with surprise as I’m pulled into the flat position and my legs across his lap. Then, Ollie proceeds to run the rough pads of his thumb down the center of my foot in a circular motion. A soft moan falls from my lips as he massages the muscles, and my eyes drift closed.

He’s so good to me, even when I don’t feel like I deserve it. He’s driving and massaging my foot as he does it.

“Brat.”

I snicker before smirking at him. “I’m a brat, and you’re an asshole. Sounds like a perfect fit to me.”

The corner of his mouth lifts so slightly I almost miss it, and my heart jumps along with the act. It’s moments like these where I can truly appreciate Ollie for being the support I need. He doesn’t know everything that’s happened, but he knows enough to know that I’ve gone through a shit-ton of trauma since the accident. Our time in Montana is going to be hard on both of us. He’s never been outside of Texas, and leaving Grove Hill is something he never intended to do. He’ll miss his friends and his mom. No one knows what’s happening or why he left. All they know is that his departure matches up with mine, and I’d like to keep it that way.

No one needs to know Rian survived the beating Nolan gave me. Only me, Oliver, my doctor, and Judy know the truth, and it will stay that way until my deal is done and Rian is completely in the clear.

After that, Judy will give Rian back to me and Ollie, and I can tell everyone the truth. I know I could spend the rest of my life with Ollie and be happy. The same goes for Martin. There’s a huge difference between happy and fulfilled. I used to be fulfilled with Oliver, but that was before Martin won half of my heart. The only way I’ll truly be content is if I have both of them.

Ollie keeps rubbing my foot, and I close my eyes, slowly fading into a sea of contentment and dreams of what might come after my sentence is over.

* * *

“We’re here, babe,”Oliver announces as the car pulls to a stop. I open my eyes and slowly sit up, yawning. My gaze snaps around, widening the further I look at our surroundings.

“Are you sure?”

“This is the address Gunderson gave me,” he adds.

We’re in the middle of nowhere, with mountains and forest all around, with only two cabins placed far apart and a weeded path connecting them. The cabins look like they’ve been unkempt for decades, and a sense of nostalgia settles over me.

It’s not the area itself but the desolation of it. It reminds me of a time when I played Marco Polo in the fog.

Pushing open the door, I step out of the car, setting my blanket on the front seat.

I’m not sure which cabin Vera lives in, but I don’t have to wonder for long. The front door to the cabin closest to us swings open, and a middle-aged woman with salt and pepper hair, scars down her face, and a cane steps out onto the small porch outside the cabin. I don’t have a moment to process her appearance fully before she lifts up a shotgun and rests it on her shoulder, a silent threat. In a flash, Ollie is by my side, ready to jump in front of a bullet to protect me. My fingers dig into his shirt as my other hand falls to my stomach.

Shadows fall across the woman’s face as she takes a single step forward, her toes touching the edge of the porch.

“You must be Beth,” she says, her voice gravelly, a thick Russian accent coming off her tongue.

“You must be Vera,” I respond quickly before putting on my brave face and stepping out from behind Ollie.

“Dá,” she mutters before placing the shotgun in the hard plastic lawn chair beside her. “My name is Vera Gusev. You two are late. I was expecting you three days ago.”

Well, that was anticlimactic.

“Three days ago? Weleftthree days ago,” Oliver grumbles with confusion on his face.

“My late husband would’ve made the trip by chopper in a few hours. The behemoth must drive like Miss Daisy.” She waves the thought off.

Is she really insulting Ollie fornotdriving like a maniac?

“I’m not a behemoth,” he growls as we walk toward Vera, being cautious. We don’t know her, and she doesn’t know us.

She shrugs. “I was given no name for you. She told me Beth was coming withthe behemoth,and I’m assuming that’s you, young man. She used much more colorful language to reference you, but no name.”

I almost laugh at the ridiculousness. Judy has a sense of humor that can’t be topped. Behemoth is an excellent word to use to describe Ollie. It can reference either size or power, and Ollie has both. He’s tall and bulky, and the amount of willpower he has is something to be admired.

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