Page 61 of The Catalyst

I don’t want Nigel to die.

“No. He…he promised he wouldn’t and he’s kept that promise so far.”

How long will he keep it up though?

As the daughter of a psychiatrist, I know the cycles. There’s love-bombing, abuse, apologies, gifts to make up for the abuse, and then right back to the start. However, there’s been none of that since that fateful night…except the controlling behavior.

“Good,” he mutters, a dark edge to his voice.

His response confuses me. There’s something hidden in his voice, but I don’t push it. If he wanted to tell me, he would’ve done so.

Sitting in relative silence, I come to the realization why he doesn’t talk much. Everyone is always so loud at the house on Mason Road. There’s always laughter, yelling, and conversations happening. Yet, it’s so quiet I can actually hear myself instead of every thought being interrupted.

It’s relaxing.

Maybe that’s why Ollie doesn’t talk unless he has something real to add to the discussion instead of just noise. It’s easier to process one’s thoughts when there is no noise. Plus, it’s easier to pay attention when I’m not talking.

I don’t feel the need to fill the silence when it’s just the two of us. We can just say nothing at all and maybe that’s a part of his appeal.

“Why aren’t you talking?” he grumbles as if I’ve somehow annoyed him.

My eyes widen before I turn my head to look at his upside down face. “What?”

“You’re always talking. Why did you stop?” he demands, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m notalwaystalking,” I deflect. “Another thing, have you ever heard of acomfortable silence? And you broke it. Thanks a lot for that, Ollie.” I sass him so hard that instead of getting pissed off, I watch a smile pull up his permanently frowning lips and then the man chuckles.

“You seem really messed up about that,” he assesses as he sits up and I follow suit.

“Don’t you hate it when someone disrupts the silence? It’s very off-putting.”

He makes a snorting sound before rolling his eyes. “Isn’t that ironic?”

I point my finger at him in a warning manner. “Just because I talk a lot doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the silence.”

Ollie arches a brow at me. “I thought you didn’t talk a lot?”

Goddamn him.

Clearly, he didn’t want to be alone to fuck me or he’d already be doing it. I’m not disappointed though. I like seeing him laugh and smile, no matter how out of place it looks on his face.

“Some silences are awkward, okay, and it’s really weird if only one person is talking. That’s not a conversation. It’s a monologue.”

He nods, but it’s like he’s just humoring me.

I glare at him. “Fuck you.”

He scrunches up his lips in thought before saying, “I already did that.”

“Smartass,” I quip.

“Brat.”

“Asshole.”

“Masochist,” he adds.

I grin. “Sadist.”

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