I ended the call with Travis to ring High Down Prison.
They planned on burying Oscar tomorrow. I had to leave today.
“Mum! What have you done?!” Oscar shouts, rushing through the door, unexpected, dropping grocery bags in his wake as Mum clings on to me, crying.
Her entire body is shaking, and she’s whipping her head violently, mumbling things I don’t understand. Maybe it’s because I’m crying, too, gasping for air. Oscar rips me from her arms into his. He searches my face and tilts my head back into his hands. “Breathe, Oliver,” he chants, pushing his fingers through my sweaty hair. “I’m here. I’m right here,” a tear slips from his cheek and lands on my lips. I’ve never seen Oscar cry, but it’s fascinating, and I don’t know how it’s possible, but his brown eyes go black when he snaps his head back to mum. “He’s eight years old, Mum! Eight!”
“Oscar,” Mum cries, “I’m sorry. I didn’t … Come home. Please, I don’t know what happened. I can’t take this anymore ...”
Oscar lays me over the mattress, and at the corner of my eye, he jumps from his knees and tackles Mum, his fists and threats flying, “If anything happens to him, you’ll lose me too. You’ll lose me forever, you worthless slapper. I should fucking kill you.” He slams her against the wall, and she curls into the corner.
Oscar returns to my side and cradles me in his arms. “It’s going to be okay. I won’t ever let anything happen to you,” Oscar whispers, wiping the tears from my eyes in the warm bed for the first time as Mum cries from the corner of the room. He’s eighteen now, big, strong, and safe. My brother. “Close your eyes, Oliver. Close your eyes and think about something else. Dream, brother.”
It took me time to catch my emotions and shove them back down. Pocketing the phone, I walked back into the restaurant and toward the table, pulled out the chair, and took a seat. Bruce and Diane continued their conversation, arguing over countertops for the kitchen. I stared at the burger before me, lost my appetite somewhere back in the parking lot.
Mia’s fingers drifted over my bouncing knee in search for my hand. “What is it?” she whispered, lacing her tiny fingers in mine. The touch of her hand steadied my heart rate, injecting strength. But I couldn’t look her in the eyes. Oscar had tormented her, tried to rape her.
“Ollie?”
I swung my head and pressed my lips against her temple, slamming my eyes closed and inhaling a deep breath.
“Okay,” she nodded and gripped my thigh, “Dad, we have to go.”
“Sure, yeah,” Bruce glanced at me and set down his fork, “Everything okay?”
Shoving my hand into my pocket, I found my wallet and threw cash over the table. I didn’t know if it was too much or not enough, but my head was spinning, and Mia and I stood from our chairs. “It will be. Thank you both for everything.”
Bruce stood and recognized the look in my eyes. “Yeah, it’s been great having you, Oliver. I know you’ll take care of my girl, better than I ever could.”
Quickly but smoothly, we said our goodbyes before we took off into the parking lot. My only goal was to make it to the car without losing my grip, without punching something or someone. This was my fault. Oscar, though the piece of shit he was, was dead because of me. His death was on my hands.
“Ollie,” Mia clutched my arm and yanked me back, “Ollie, slow down. Talk to me.”
I took her hand in mine and kept moving forward. I had to bring Mia back home. I had to say goodbye again, and I didn’t want to.
“Ollie!” She jerked her hand from mine once we reached the car. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where we’re going.”
“I’m taking you to your dad’s,” the words flooded out with tears stuck inside my throat, choking me. It was no coincidence there were cages surrounding hearts, stronger ones for the wild hearts that beat to a different rhythm. Mine was a different rhythm. My heart pumped to a different song entirely. “I have to go back, Mia, and you have to stay here.”
“Bullshit!”
I gripped her shoulders and leaned over to face her. She was a different height in the heels. A height I wasn’t used to. “Oscar died last night. They killed him to get to me. I have to go back, and as much as I can’t be without you, I can’t have anything happen to you either. You are my everything, Mia. Do this for me, please.”
“No,” she shook her head, “don’t you dare leave me.” Mia’s hands clutched my face and kissed me hard, unlocking the shambles holding me down. I sank into that kiss, wishing our bodies could merge and become one. Wishing her soul could stay safe inside mine for eternity.
“I don’t know what to do,” I confessed with my forehead to hers, gripping the back of her head.
“I’m coming with you.”
“The OG’s, Bonnie and Clyde. Fast driving, guns blazing. You two against the world.” My wild card; my one percent. My lips landed on her forehead, hoping Bud was right in the fact we needed to start fighting these battles together. “Get in the car, love. We’re going home.”
Ollie sat on the opposite end of the taxi, drumming his fingers over his bouncing knee. It was three in the afternoon, UK time, and we haven’t even made it back to the other airport yet to retrieve his car before we’d entered into our first disagreement.
“I don’t know why you’re still upset with me. You had my back, then as soon as we boarded the plane, I get this.” My hand waved back and forth, indicating the distance between us. He couldn’t be farther away, gaze fixated out the back window.
“Of course, I had your back, Mia. I’ll always have your back. But you were wrong.”
“I don’t understand.” The douche back in customs had been an ass, asking ridiculous questions. Okay, perhaps I’d given sarcastic remarks and didn’t answer each one of his perverted questions accordingly, but it still didn’t give him the right. “If I was so wrong, then why stick up for me?”
Ollie dragged in a slow breath, stretched out his fingers, and let it go quickly. “I’ll defend you, right or wrong, all day long in front of others, but as soon as we’re behind closed doors, I get to tell you how ridiculous you were being. We could’ve missed our flight. They didn’t have to hold the plane for us, and all he asked was what you did with that,” he snapped his finger, “bullet thing.”
“It’s a vibrator, Ollie.”
“You said, ‘bomb.’”
“I said it was the bomb.” Purposely.
Ollie’s eyes squinted as if I had insulted him. “And why do you have a vibrator in your backpack anyway?”
“You were rushing me. I just grabbed stuff from my box and shoved it in my backpack.” Including my camera, film, pictures …
Ollie held out his palm and waved his fingers. “Give it to me.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t need it anymore.”
“What if you’re out doing something, and I need a release?”
Ollie eyed the rearview mirror, where the taxi driver quickly pulled his amusing gaze away. “Since when have I ever not taken care of you?” Ollie raised a brow. He had a point, and his fingers flicked again. Groaning, I pulled the backpack over my lap and unzipped before shoving my hand into the front pocket and dropped the silver bullet into Ollie’s palm. He manually rolled down the window and tossed it out into the busy afternoon traffic. “A fucking vibrator,” he shook his head, laughing incredulously, “I’ll lick circles around that thing.”
“You just made a hitchhiker very happy,” I pointed out. “I bet someone will pick it up and name it Wilson, keep it forever.”
“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” Ollie muttered under his breath. He was cute when he was mad, knee bouncing, fingers drumming, shaking his head. I slid across the backseat beside him, moving my hand across his stretched thighs. Heat radiated from the thin material of his slacks, and I clenched my thighs together to ease the effect he had on me. Ollie rolled his neck and faced me, and forgiving eyes hit mine. “Come here,” he said through an exhale,
then lifted his arm and dropped it around my shoulder, pulling me closer.
We arrived at the other airport two hours later. Ollie paid the driver, and the fee was hefty, but we couldn’t get a sooner flight into the same airport he’d left his car at.
“What do you think?” he asked, tapping the hood of the black station wagon blanketed in dust.
I paused with my backpack slung over my shoulder and tilted my head. “It’s … old.”
Ollie rubbed the hood lovingly and whispered to the car’s side mirror, “Don’t listen to her, darling. She doesn’t mean it.” Rolling my eyes with a smile, I took a step forward as Ollie opened the back door and tossed our bags inside. “You don’t have to come to the prison, Mia. I’ll be fine. I can get you a room, and you can relax for a little bit.” Ollie’s hands moved over my hips, and he pulled me between his spread legs as he fell back against the car. I was exhausted. He was exhausted. But neither one of us let it show. “Oscar was horrible to you. I’m not expecting anything of you.”
Oscar had been horrible to me. He’d drugged me, beat me, almost raped me, but he was Ollie’s brother, and if he needed me at his side, I’d be there because that’s what we did. We were always there for each other no matter what. I lifted my eyes to meet Ollie’s, and his brow peaked, searching my face for an answer. “Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”
Ollie’s dimple appeared, and his fingers tugged on the bottom hem of the hoodie I was wearing over my dress until I was flush against him. Not the best fashion sense, but I’d never been into fashion. “Get out of these clothes,” he whispered. “Take a proper bubble bath, order room service, get well rested. That’s what I want you to do.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do.”
It killed me to drop off Mia at the Holiday Inn, but it wasn’t safe for her to be there, especially if the Links were watching. Dex Sullivan didn’t get to lay his eyes on Mia unless I permitted him to, and I knew he was somewhere, watching. Dex knew I’d come.
I didn’t have time to change, still wearing the white button-down shirt and slacks and a tiredness weighing heavy in my eyes. The heated car idled in the car park of High Down Prison, windows fogging as I waited to muster enough courage to leave the cabin of the station wagon. Rain beat over the hood, and a slew of black umbrellas marched across the lawn off in the distance, following a casket.
My fingers curled around the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. I had the means to claim Oscar’s body and give him a proper burial at a cemetery, but he’d made his bed, it was time he’d slept in it. Once upon a time, Oscar had saved me from my mum. He looked out for me, protected me. And if it weren’t for him, I’d probably be dead. For that, I owed him my presence and closure.
I cut the engine, withdrew from the warm space of the car, and walked toward the huddled circle in the isolated burial ground of the prison. I stood off to the side. Rain dripped from the ends of my hair, down the bridge of my nose, and off my lashes. The white dress shirt clung to my cold skin, and I kept my head down as the priest spoke a few words, his voice drowned out by the rain.
The majority of the people who stood around the gravesite paid by the country were that of High Down employees and guards, but when the priest dismissed everyone, I caught a glimpse of raggedy blonde hair spilling from under a tilted umbrella. The woman was being consoled by, none other than, Dex Sullivan.
I tore my eyes away and commanded my feet to move, but they were cemented to the soggy ground as the two approached.
“Oliver,” she stated, surprised.
I looked up and squinted through the rain. “Mum.”
Black irises stared back at me, laying in the center of puffiness, bleakness, and redness. The years haven’t been good to her, and her twitching fingers clung to Dex’s trench coat as a source of stability.
“How dare you show up here,” she spat, the frayed ends of her damaged hair flying against the wind. She seemed so small against Dex, who remained quiet at her side with a deceiving frown marring his face. “You have a lot of nerve.”
“Nice to see you too, Mum.”
“Don’t you do that. Don’t pretend like I didn’t just bury my son,” she gritted through clenched teeth and tears. Dex slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to his side. I flexed my jaw at how easily she rested against the man who helped conspire Oscar’s death. Dex was probably still fucking her too, anything to get under my skin. “You know, that should’ve been you. I wished it was you, Oliver,” she cried out, mourning the loss of her firstborn. The one she’d understood. The one she could relate to—the son who was just as sick as her and didn’t make her feel bad about it.
“We both know I’m already dead to you. Let’s not rip open old wounds.” Telling my mum that Dex was the one who had Oscar killed wouldn’t have done me any favors. She wouldn’t have believed me. And Dex wouldn’t have told mum about White Fox either. He wouldn’t have told anyone. Dex wanted all the money for himself. And as soon as I could find a way to get him the money, I’d be done with all of this.
“Come on, Becky,” Dex curled his fingers into her waist and steered her away, “you don’t deserve to listen to this nonsense.”
The two walked away, leaving me soaked and shivering in the cold rain. A tear slipped from my eye as the little boy in me watched his mum go. I’d spent years loving her blindly, even after the multiple attempts on my life. I’d be a liar if I said I never starved for my mum’s love, or that it didn’t kill me to watch her slip down the rabbit hole of addiction and her illness. I’d read many books, kept track of her symptoms growing up. It had all lead to a form of dissociative identity disorder, though she’d never listened to me or cared to seek help. Her only refuge had been a proper hit of heroin.
Back in the station wagon, I beat my fist into the steering wheel, over and over before turning the engine and backing out. A few miles passed when my eyes moved from the windshield to the rearview mirror, and I spotted a car following too close behind. I pulled off the street to let them pass, but they didn’t. They pulled up behind me as another car passed by and parked in front of the station wagon, blocking me in. I got out, rain beating over my back, coming down hard, and threw my hands up in the air as I walked toward the car parked behind me. Two men got out, and I shouted curses against the thunderstorm brewing above.
One of them was Dex, and his lips moved, “Get him.”
A force struck my head from behind, and I dropped to the ground, the gravel embedding into the side of my face. I tried to get to my feet when a boot kicked me in the stomach, stealing all the air from my lungs. My eyes squinted against the ice-cold rain, and I grabbed an ankle, tearing the bloke from a standing position, putting him on his arse before climbing over him. Before I could throw my first punch, I was struck again against my spine, temporarily disabling me.
“I warned you, Oliver,” Dex shouted against the roaring Thunder. I pulled myself up on all fours, trying to get back to my feet. When I lifted my head, lightning lit up the sky, illuminating Dex’s vicious grin. A kick to my stomach flipped me over, and my back hit the curb. Then more blows and punches hammered over me. Two or three men, and no matter which way I turned, I couldn’t get out from the bottom.
Eventually, they left. I’d heard the cars peel from the side of the road, gravel flying and hitting my face, but couldn’t move. I laid there in the frostbite under the raging storm, bleeding, shivering, and frozen. And my gaze fixed as blood trickled from my mouth and ran along the currents between pebbles, the rain washing it away.
I don’t remember how I’d gotten back to the hotel, but it was nothing short of a miracle—a saving grace.
“Oh-my-god,” Mia cried, scurrying from under a throw blanket over the couch of the hotel room as I stood in a daze in the doorway, dripping water and blood. Tears gathered in her eyes as she touched my mouth. I turned my head away from her, hating her to see me like this. I couldn’t protect myself. How was I supposed to protect her? Her
voice and hands were panicked as she unbuttoned my shirt with a pained look in her expression, tears helplessly falling from her brown eyes. “I have to get you out of these clothes. You’re shaking. You’ll get sick.” She made fast work at the buttons before peeling the shirt from around my shoulders. Her hands were hot against my quivering flesh. “Let me take you to the hospital. You need to go to the hospital.”
I snatched her wrist. “No, Mia. You can’t.” They’d ask questions, file a police report.
“They could’ve killed you!” she cried out.
“Dex won’t kill me. Not until he gets his money.” I winced and clutched my ribcage, my entire body sore, trembling from the cold, and bruised from the inside out.
Silently, Mia unlatched my belt and unbuttoned my slacks before taking my hand and walking me to the bathroom.
Pausing in the doorway, I leaned into the frame to steady myself as she bent over to turn on the water. “I’m running you a bath,” Mia muttered. She was angry, and I couldn’t blame her. I’d allowed my mum’s presence to throw me off.
Voices from the telly competed against the water running from the bath, a crime show she had been watching still playing in the background. She turned and approached me, and her hair was piled high on top of her head, wisps framing her face as she slid off my belt. “Will you let me take care of you?”
I managed to nod and let her undress me. Both the slacks and boxers rolled down my thighs until the wet clothes hit the ground at my feet.
After sinking inside the bathwater, the hot temperature burned my wounds, but my shakes slowly declined before going away completely. Mia sat over the floor, leaning over the edge of the tub. “I’m so mad at you right now,” she scolded, dabbing a hand towel over my busted lip. Another tear slipped down her cheek, and I closed my eyes, unable to see her like this.
“I’ll be alright, love,” I whispered, cringing. It hurt to breathe let alone speak. Mia dropped her hand and tucked her head into her arms over the tub. I’d seen her break down, punch walls, mirrors, letting out her absolute worst, but never had I’d seen her so defeated at my expense. My hand came up, and I wrapped my fingers around her neck and in her hair. “I promise. I’m going to be fine. It’s going to be alright.”
Now Open Your Eyes (Stay With Me series Book 3) Page 19