Page 206 of The Catalyst

“Thanks for cleaning that. I know it needed to be cleaned, but with my allergy–”

“Don’t even mention it. It’s no problem, and–hello–I’m not about to let my best friend, who has a deadly allergy and is almost full-term, clean it herself. It needed to be done, and I can’t imagine Oliver Doyle scrubbing a kiddie pool.” She snickers from the hilarity of the image.

“He actually does most of the cleaning. He barely lets me do anything around the house,” I admit, and the look on her face is priceless.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“I mean, Oliver doesn’t come across as domesticated.”

“You talk about him like he’s a wild animal.” I would be pissed about that if I didn’t know that it's kind of true. The man is a beast and not just between the sheets. I witnessed first-hand what happens when he loses himself in the madness. It’s scary, but simply because it shows how truly damaged my Ollie is. We both are and maybe that’s why we work so well.

It’s the same logic that dictates my feelings for Martin. I fell for the abused child deep inside him before I fell for the rest of him. We understood each other just like Ollie and I understand the loose cannon that resides inside our twisted brains.

She gives me an all-knowing glance before she huffs. “That’s the vibe he gives off. There’s a reason he’s the town psychopath back in Grove Hill. I’m not even sure if that man can feel anything besides rage except when you make him laugh.”

The sad part is that’s what everyone sees in him because they don’t see the man I do. He doesn’t let many people in. Even his friends don’t really know him. They don’t see how absolutely feral he goes over strawberry cheesecake, how he dances like a complete idiot when a Whitney Houston song comes on the radio, or the spot-on hilarious impersonations he does of our friends back home.

No, I’m the only one who gets to see that, and I’m glad that I have access to something no one else does, but it hurts that he’s so emotionally isolated.

“Why is he here? I get that he’s got a thing for you and all, but his entire life is back in Grove Hill. It makes no sense that he–”

“Ollie is Rian’s father,” I announce, a bit irritated with her line of questioning. I never told her about the paternity test results, only that it was done. She never asked about the results, either. I figured since I hadn’t told Nigel, and she knew that it was clear that my son belonged to Ollie.However, Martin was also a part of the equation and she knew that.

“He–what?” Her eyes widen, and her jaw drops.

“Our baby,” I say, rubbing my hand across my swollen stomach.

“Wow.” She gasps before her eyes fall to my stomach. “Really?”

“You knew it was a possibility.”

“I know. It’s just…” she trails off with uncertainty on her face. “It’s weird, okay? He’s Oliver. It’s weird that he, of all people, is going to be a father.”

I can understand where she’s coming from. I was shocked when I found out he was Rian’s father. I was so certain that it had to be Nigel who got me pregnant, but I got the paternity test to be sure. Turns out, I was completely wrong in my assumption, but Oliver has shown me that he will be a good dad. I could see it in his eyes when I thought I miscarried. He was distraught even though he tried to hide it. He may call Rian every derogatory term for a baby, but Oliver loves our son. That’s the most important thing.

“He’s going to be a good father, okay? You don’t get to see the real Oliver Doyle. No one does except Martin and me. He isn’t just the town psychopath. He’s funny and kind and understanding and so fucking sweet. Before he leaves for work every day, he kisses my stomach and tells our son to behave.” If there was a chance that his bedroom skills would persuade her to think differently of him, I would tell her how much of a beast he is in bed.

Judy’s eyes widen, and she looks emotional. “You’re in love with him,” she states as a certainty.

“Yeah, I am. I thought that was obvious by now. You’ve seen us kiss and be affectionate with each other since we came here.”

She huffs. “That doesn’t necessarily equal love. You and Ollie were having sex when you and Nigel were together.”

That seems like a lifetime ago. Considering the amount of time since I first met Nigel and Ollie versus how long I’ve been pregnant, it was half of my life. Well, almost.

The way Judy watches me is like a child hearing their parent’s love story for the first time on a snowy Christmas morning. I doubt mine and Ollie’s kids would ever have that experience. It is probably pure disgust and maybe a dash of morbid curiosity.

“Nigel knew about my feelings for Oliver. He asked me about them, completely straightforward, and when I told him the truth–that I was falling for his best friend–he looked like I stabbed him right in the penis and the absolute tantrum he threw was ridiculous. Martin and Ollie’s reaction to knowing I was in love with both of them was completely different. They were understanding and didn’t care if they had to share me. That shows their maturity.”

My gaze drifts to the trimmed lawn and manicured bushes in front of us. When I arrived here, this place was so desolate that I wasn’t even sure someone lived here, but Ollie and I have worked together to keep up with the lawn around the cabins and leading out to the driveway as a bare minimum. Vera hasn't said it, but I’m sure she’s grateful for the help. She is unable to do very much outside of cooking and cleaning since she broke her hip last year and her ankle the year before that.

Even with those things, she has lived a thousand lives. She’s told me so many stories of her travels before and after her marriage to Vlad, the terrible late husband.

She even told me the tale of him and his untimely demise. He put her through hell. Beat her, raped her, degraded her, and nearly killed her on several occasions until she had enough. She killed him before he could finish the job. She even detailed to me and Ollie how she did it while we hung out in her living room, cuddled under a blanket near the fire on one of the colder nights.

“As soon as Vlad fell asleep, I went out to the shed and grabbed the sledgehammer before I made my way back to the house where my son slept peacefully in his room. I felt guilty knowing what I was about to do, but my son knew how horrible his father was. Vlad never hid his true nature within our home, only when someone outside of me or my son was present. Appearances were everything to him.

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