Page 110 of Vampires of Eden: Oliver
I take a deep breath. Maybe this is presumptuous, and maybe it has nothing to do with me, but… “Can I tell you something, honestly?”
He meets my gaze, nervous. “I hope so?”
Huffing in a laugh, I clasp my hands in my lap. “I’ve always been jealous of you, Alexander. Bitterly. You seemed content growing up. Carefree and genuinely happy in a way that I couldn’t understand. Between that and Lord Blakeley constantly pressuring me over our engagement, I resented you. I disliked you.”
Alexander scoffs. “Youhatedme.”
I nod. “I did. But what I hated more was the circumstance. My anger toward you was largely a byproduct of that.”
The space suddenly feels too warm as we watch each other in the weighted silence. His brows furrow and his cheeks flush in the orange light.
“Even still,” he says, shifting his gaze toward the fire, “I didn’t help the situation. I was stupid… and immature. I was unkind to you. You were right to hate me.”
“But I don’t hate you,” I say clearly. I lean forward a little, into his field of vision, to make sure he’s listening. “Not anymore. I appreciate you, Alexander. For everything that you’ve done—for accepting my decisions and for standing up to Lord Blakeley when I disappeared. You’ve kept feeding me and even found me a safe shelter. The words seem insufficient, but thank you. For everything.”
The log in the fireplace shifts, pops and crackles. Alexander stares into the hearth, unmoving.
“You don’t hate me,” he says quietly. “But you don’t love me, either. There won’t ever be a chance for us, because I can’t compete withhim. He’s the one who holds your heart. He was there for you when I wasn’t.”
I stare at his side profile, remorseful but knowing what I have to say. “Yes.” It’s more complicated than that. And it feels like there are a million unspoken words between us. But this is the bottom line.
We slip into yet another tense moment of pause. My heart pulses in my throat as I wait for his response or reaction. Anything.
He doesn’t speak. Not right away.
Slowly, he stands. He doesn’t look at me.
“Are… you okay on blood bags?” he asks. “I should have asked you that before I came today. Sorry. That was stupid of me.”
“I’m good,” I say, acquiescing to this shift in our conversation. “Are you alright on bags?”
“Yeah.” He turns, then hesitates. “Well, we should probably do a few extra before you take off somewhere—so you have time to find a new source and you don’t feel panicked or rushed.”
“That sounds like a good idea. I’d appreciate that. I’ll make extras for you, too.”
He sticks his hands inside his coat pockets. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Alexander walks toward the door, and I stand to follow him. We’re silent as he steps into his shoes. He still refuses to meet my eyes. He checks his watch, then turns toward the door.
Somehow, this feels like goodbye. I don’t know how or why, especially when we’ve just agreed to exchange more blood bags. Even still, something in the energy and air between us has markedly shifted.
“Alex—”
“I called Roland yesterday, like you suggested,” he says, facing the door with his back to me. “I told him that if I can, I’d like to help with the safe house. You’re right. It’s a good idea.”
“That’s great news. What made you change your mind?”
He steps aside and cracks the door open. A cool waft of autumnal evening air graces the skin of my face and neck. “I don’t know… It might be nice to do something different with my time. Maybe I need a change.”
“Lots of change for both of us. I think it’s fantastic that you’re going to help him and Kathryn. It’s very brave of you.”
“Hm.” He pulls the door open wider and steps through. “Message me if you need something.”
Feeling oddly panicked, I follow him and step into the frame. As he approaches the steps, I call out into the twilight, “Is it possible for us to be friends? Is that selfish of me to ask?”
Alexander stops on the bottom step and turns to the side. His shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath. “I don’t know yet. I’ll let you know what my freelance photographer friend says. Good night, Ollie.”
