Page 307 of Sin With Me

My jaw ticks. “She wouldn't let me go in the room with her.”

Kon makes a sound low in his throat. “Do you blame the girl?”

“Obviously fucking not,” I hiss, tugging on my hair. Fuck, I feel sick. Sick and lost. I hate it. “I get it, but I have no answers. I don’t know anything because Eve won’t tell me what the hell happened to her.”

“What happened?” a small, feminine voice asks, breaking through the tense kitchen.

As one, all three of us turn to the voice and my heart sinks as I find Olive standing before us, her face creased from sleep, a small, thin, blonde messy bun on her head.

I shoot a look at Chase, finding him pale and wringing his hands. Kon’s jaw is tense, and for once, he’s not looking at Oli with irritation, but love and concern. I step back, leaning against the counter with my arms crossed, unsure what to do or say.

It’s not up to me.

It’s up to Chase.

Oli steps forward, stopping right in front of him.

“What happened to my best friend, Chase?”

Something shifts on the bed beside me, and my eyelids flutter open. They’re wet, like I was crying in my sleep. I probably was. They won’t stop leaking, no matter how hard I try, they just keep pouring from my eyes.

Blinking a few times, Oli comes into focus. She’s staring at me, laying close enough to be a comforting presence but far enough away to not touch me.

She’s been here every day for…how long has it been? A few days? A week? A month?

It’s all blurred together—Roman coming in and out of the room, bringing me water and food, making sure I take care of myself. Chase checking on me, reminding me to stay hydrated. Kon asking if I want to go for a drive, or get another tattoo or smash shit.

But it’s Oli that’s been the constant. She hasn’t said a word. She just lays beside me. Sometimes she sleeps, sometimes she just stares at the ceiling with me.

“Morning, sunshine,” she mutters. Her thin blonde hair is picked up in a messy bun, and her face is makeup free.

I stare at her.

Even if I wanted to speak, it’s been so long, I don’t think I can. My throat feels weak, my body feels weak.

I am weak.

“I think Kon made breakfast,” she says softly. “Something from the home land.” She flashes me a grin, but it doesn’t reach her cobalt eyes.

My heavy eyes close again, and I beg myself to go back to sleep. Just for a bit longer.

“Do you wanna change clothes?” she asks. My hand balls into a fist under the pillow.

No, I don’t want to change clothes. I don’t want to eat breakfast. I don’t want to drink water, or talk to anyone, or see someone else’s pitying expression when they tiptoe into the room.

“I can make us some smoothies,” she suggests. “Pineapple and coconut smoothies with a dash of rum.”

Her words finally sink in, and a tinge of lightness warms my chest before it’s smothered again.

A pina colada sounds good.

Hold the pineapple and coconut.

It’ll take too much energy to get out of bed and drink it, though.

“Hm, not in the mood for something fruity?” She hums, then snaps her fingers, and I open my eyes to glare at her. “How about something else?”

My brows lift expectantly.

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