Page 16 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. Two
“Hey.” Oliver’s voice keeps me tethered to the present. Out of habit, he moves to grab my hand, but he pulls back at the last moment.
The action cracks my heart in two. I crave his touch and the comfort it brings, but I know it’ll be anything but soothing. It’ll throw me further into moments where I had no control. My body will seize up, my heart will beat too fast, and I’ll end up shoving him away.
“Look at me.” Oliver’s voice is soft, like he’s talking to a scared kitten. He hovers close without touching me. “Stay with me.”
With a gulp, I focus on his eyes. I used to dream about getting lost in them when we were younger. There’s so much to them. Like how they soften and somehow pull me in whenever he looks at me, or how they sparkle when he gets that stupid grin on his face. There’s so much depth, so much care, just in this one part of him.
Fuck.This man can put me in a goddamn chokehold just by looking at me. No touch required.
“I’m here,” I whisper, and I am. My father’s voice always fades when I can focus on something else.
“Good. And I feel fine, okay? Promise.” He smiles at me.
“I just didn’t want you to think I don’t care,” I mumble. “I didn’t want you to feel used.”
“I know you care. And I know your limits.”
“But—”
“Uh uh, no. I’m not asking you to give me something when I know doing so will hurt you.” His smile is gone, replaced with a seriousness that makes my heart skip a beat.
I blow out a short, frustrated breath.
How is he so understanding?
“You always do your best,” Oliver continues.“That’swhat matters, Rhett.”
“Okay,” I mutter.
He still looks worried, but he doesn’t address it any further. Instead he nods in the direction of where we left Wren and Elliot. “Let’s get back. I want you focused on something else.”
The tightness in my chest loosens as he gives me a reassuring smile. It’s the kind that makes his eyes crinkle, which means it’s real.
“C’mon,” he says, and I realize he’s taken a few steps while I haven’t moved.
“Right. Yeah, coming.”
He smells good—that vanilla and woodiness that’s always had a calming effect on me. It’s like hugging him without touching him, which is the best I can give myself right now.
Inhaling deeply, I follow him, hoping he’s right. My childhood has haunted me for all my life, but Elliot and Oliver—and now Wren—have always been able to chase away my ghosts.
I just have to let them.
***
After I lose my bet to Oliver, the four of us look through a couple more exhibits. We stop to admire the museum’s collection of Chinese architecture, as well as a Japanese ceremonial teahouse. Before we know it, it’s been multiple hours, and we need to start heading home.
On our way in, we immediately started with a side room, so we missed the large one most people walk into first. I was hoping to avoid it, but Wren is heading in that direction, following signs for the Archway of Love installment.
The problem is, Wren seeing it is a horrible, horrible idea.
“Sweetheart, I don’t think we should go that way.”
“But the Archway sounds so cool,” she says, spinning around to look at me and walking backward. “I want to know what could’ve possibly inspired a name like that.”
“Wren…”
Fuck.
