Mia reached for my uninjured hand and pulled me back toward her. “She still doesn’t know Dex killed Oscar, does she? It’s weird, her hanging out with him.”
“I told you Dex and Oscar were mates growing up, and Dex and my mum fucked off and on since he was young. If I’m not mistaken, she took his virginity—”
“What?”
I nodded. “Yeah, so the bloke has a soft spot for her, and vice versa. If I told her Dex was responsible for killing her son, she wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
My past had quickly caught up to me, bleeding out into everything I treasured. And the only smart thing to do was push Mia further and farther away from it all. But like I said before, love turned us all into fools. Mia’s steadfast soul anchored mine, and she was the only reason I’d stayed sane through it all. With a sword in one hand, she was clutching my other, and I was hardly hanging on.
I’d never had the most brilliant ideas. From experience, most of them ended in either handcuffs, a hangover, or looking into horrid, loveless eyes after a harsh fuck. I’d just hoped this idea of hosting Thanksgiving dinner wouldn’t end up in flames.
Ollie wouldn’t be back home until after midnight, and I had only tonight to prepare a dinner for seven people and a baby. Jake, Liam, Travis, Summer, and their baby Turner were joining us, along with Lynch. Ollie had found a nine-foot wooden table at an antique shop for half off, and spent the last few days refinishing the wood back to its original charm. Tomorrow, we were having Thanksgiving dinner at our house, and I was responsible for the food, or lack thereof.
Since arriving in the UK, I only got around by cab or taking my bicycle into the village if I needed something. I refused to learn to drive here, and it drove Ollie insane. But to be honest, the opposite sides scared the living hell out of me. I’d tried once, and drove his dear car into a ditch. It took three men and a pick-up to drag the beater from the muddy valley off the road. After that, Ollie found a purple bicycle, complete with a basket and a bell. What started as a joke turned into my most reliable transportation.
But there was no way the bicycle would be able to carry the groceries back from the store. Knowing this, Ollie had left his car. And I stood outside my front door, staring at the old, rusty station wagon with determination in my posture, twirling the keys around my finger.
After a few close calls—okay, a lot of close calls—loud honks, and British insults from other cars passing by, I’d made it to the village in one piece. Dark clouds broke apart, and I grabbed the umbrella from the backseat before getting out and running through the misted rain. We were nearing the end of November, and the temperature was cruel. People rushed over the cobblestone path and ducked into their cars as I idled under the roof’s eave, closing the umbrella and stomping out the water dripping from my Sperry boots.
I entered the store, the bell chimed, and the cashier waved over at me from behind the counter as I grabbed a buggy. The Yankees back in the states made the locals here seem like fairy godmothers from Pleasantville, and I was tired of keeping up with the smiles and small talk.
Strolling through the aisles, I snacked on a bag of Mini Cheddars as I tossed the items from my grocery list into the cart when my buggy crashed into two girls, one with who I recognized.
“Hi, Mia,” Leigh said. And though I’ve seen her once, I’d never forgotten the face of the girl who took the majority of Ollie’s time. But seeing her this close, she couldn’t be more than twenty-years-old. She wore black leggings and a cream satin tank under her black puffer jacket with a much older lady at her side. My eyes darted back and forth between the two.
The other lady’s eyes relaxed. “So, you’re Oliver’s Mia?”
“Nope, wrong person,” I lied, trying to maneuver my cart around them, but Leigh grabbed hold of the end and pulled it back in front of her. Closing my eyes, I sucked in a long breath. “Can I help you with something?” I asked upon exhale.
“I’m Oliver’s mum,” the older lady said, and her gaze roamed down my body before they flicked back to my eyes where they settled. Her expression transformed from conflicted to concerned, and her eyes watered. “I … I just wanted to introduce myself. Take care of yourself, Mia,” she quickly turned to Leigh, who had her palms in the air, and Oliver’s mom shook her head, “Come on, we’re leaving the girl alone.”
Before I could get a word out, Oliver’s mom gripped Leigh’s arm and pulled her in the opposite direction as Leigh whisper-shouted, noticeably upset. Then the two disappeared around the aisle, leaving me with nothing but confusion from what just happened.
Once my body thawed from my frozen state, I checked out, made it safely home, and spent the rest of the evening recapping the events from earlier in my head. Ted Bundy’s documentary played on the TV over the fire burning in the fireplace, but I hadn’t paid attention to the last twenty minutes, too busy mulling over the run-in, and why Ollie’s mom was so quick to leave. No matter how hard I tried to shake it away, her reaction to me had buried into my brain.
The uncanny feeling of someone watching me raised every small hair across my arm, followed by goosebumps. My coffee turned cold, and I leaned over and set it down on the table before pulling the blanket across my lap, looking out the window. Our white curtains were partially drawn, and all I could see was the black night. I grabbed my phone off the arm of the couch and texted Ollie to know if he was on his way.
It was very seldom when Ollie left me home alone, but this past month he had been gone about once a week to deal with Dex and the Links. He rarely went into detail and hated talking about it, and over the past few months, I learned it was better not knowing. But it wouldn’t be long before Ollie would walk through the door, dripping with regret. The week before, he’d taken me over this couch and released his shame and guilt inside me before spending the rest of the night writing in his notebook. Every other night, he’d make love to me slow and fuck his poetry hard. But night’s such as this, when he’d come back from that house, it was the other way around.
Of course, I never minded, having once said Ollie carried the burden of a thousand lost souls and had the heart of a thousand angels, and the only way to release his pent-up emotions was through me.
And on cue, he walked into our home wearing black joggers and a jean jacket over his hoodie with his hair in chaos. Bruises had colored his cheekbones. The bandages had unraveled from around his hand. The winter chill had kissed his lips. Then Ollie lifted his head. The same green eyes where a museum of knowledge, dreams, and books about love stories lived, found mine as if the sun came out in the dead of night. Screaming thoughts turned to whispers, and Ollie dropped his guard, knowing he was back with me in his safe place—his haven.
The smell of cinnamon and apples swirled inside our cottage, and I was busy pulling the last pie from the oven while Ollie stood over a bonfire in the backyard with Lynch, Travis, and Liam. Fanning the pie, I fixed my eyes out the window, admiring the four men as Summer nursed Turner over the couch in front of the nine-foot table behind me. Ollie had pushed the furniture against the wall to make room for it temporarily, and after Thanksgiving, it would be going back outside.
A fire crackled in the fireplace, and Jake and I worked together, tag-teaming setting the table over low music playing from the speakers above my piano. After spreading out a placement, Jake looked up with a dramatic sigh. “I have to admit, Mia. Over two years, Lynch scared the pee out of me. Literally. Like, he literally made me piss my pants. I’m so on edge right now, and I don’t know how to act around him.”
Laughing, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Just be yourself.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. What if he gets mad the pie is gone, decides to blame the gay one, and throws me upstairs in your darkroom.”
I rolled my eyes. “And what do you call a really annoying gay man?”
Jake’s shoulders slumped, and his eyes narrowed. “What?”
“A pain in the ass.”
Summer giggled from the couch.
“And, Mia,” Jake pointed at me, “when the comedian pumped his sense of humor inside you, did you laugh?”
“Okay, touché. But we got a baby in the room …”
“What’s Thanksgiving without a little banter, yeah?” Summer asked, standing and laying Turner down in the pop-up playpen beside the couch. “Should I grab the boys?”
My gaze scanned over the table where a complete Thanksgiving meal laid out. Turkey, gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and cranberries sitting over a festive tablecloth, candles lit, and drinks poured. “Yup, we’re ready for them.”
Jake walked around the table and threw his arm around my shoulder. “You did well.”
“Wait until you try it before you say that,” I said through a laugh, hoping it tasted as delicious as it appeared.
After everyone was inside, oohs and aahs echoed from the other three men with their gaze sailing over my masterpiece. We all took our seats around the table and lifted our wine glasses for a toast before the feasting.
“I’d like to say a few words,” Lynch disrupted from the opposite end of the table, and I lowered my glass as Ollie’s palm rested over my thigh. “First and foremost, I want to thank Mia and Oliver for inviting me. It’s been over twenty years since I had a home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner. And Mia,” he cleared his throat, “we’ve come a long way with still a long way to go, but I couldn’t be prouder of the lady you’ve become in such a short time. Thank you for giving me a chance to be a part of your life. To Mia and Oliver, everyone.”
“To Mia and Oliver,” my family echoed, clinking their glasses with dazzling smiles.
Ollie squeezed my thigh, leaning in, and I met him halfway. Our lips touched briefly before his nose brushed mine, and he faced the eager eyes around the table with his hand in the air. “Alright, dig in,” he called out, looking handsome with his hair styled in his usual messy wave, black pants, and a grey sweater. The swollen and red bruise under his eye changed colors but didn’t bruise his spirit.
After dishes passed around and plates filled high with food, everyone did just that and dug in.
Thankfully, the food wasn’t too bad, and I didn’t kill anyone. Over the next hour, we laughed over memories from our trip to Spain, heard Lynch’s crazy stories from his earlier days at Dolor, and listened to Travis and Summer explain about life with a newborn in the house.
“So, what’s next for the two of you?” Liam asked, eyes darting between Ollie and me.
The only people in this room who knew about Ollie’s dealings with the Links were Travis, Summer, Ollie, and me. Everyone else was clueless as to the double life Ollie had been living since Dolor, the criminal activity he was involved with, and our future of traveling the world put on hold until he could get out.
Ollie’s eyes met mine when a boyish smile crept along his lips. “I have no bloody clue, mate. But whatever is next, we’re ready for it.”
Bubbles floated over the hot bathwater, the scent of rose and bergamot bursting in our bathroom and seeping into every inhale. “Thanksgiving was a success,” Ollie said, sitting over the small wooden barstool and rinsing the soap out of my hair with the shower spray. “The food wasn’t half bad, so why the frown?”
I waved my hand over the water, collecting bubbles and blowing them from my palm. A few popped, and the rest drifted until it latched on to the subway tiled wall as I thought through my next words. “I have this sick feeling in my stomach that this is the calm before the storm, and it’s only a matter of time before we are swept away. This whole thing with the Links …” I shook my head and dropped my hands under the water, “Don’t forget, you promised me, Ollie.”
Ollie turned off the sprayer and pushed up his grey sleeves to his elbows before leaning in. “You are not losing me, love. It’s going to be okay.”
“How do you know?” It seemed as if I’d been asking him that same question since our eyes locked the first time.
A smile graced his lips. “I just do,” he whispered, giving me the same answer every time.
“Ollie—”
Ollie’s elbow dropped over his knee as he held his pointer finger over his lips. I snapped my mouth shut, caught by the daydream look in his eyes. The tip of his finger met my chest and my heart slammed against it before it made the journey to his. “Remember?”
I nodded. “I remember.”
A gesture so small but meant the world.
I stood from the bathtub, and Ollie wrapped a plush white towel around me to dry off before he picked a novel from the bookcase in the bedroom and joined me in bed.
As soon as the book opened, his angelic voice silenced the corrupt thoughts circling in my head, calming me, chasing evil, and bringing me to new heights and distant worlds where terrors, demons, and beasts weren’t welcomed.
It was two A.M. when I woke from the sound of our gate slamming right outside our window, and I turned over in Ollie’s arms to find him asleep on his side with his lips slightly parted. The wind howled, the gate slammed again, and footfalls pattered, the eerie notes spilling through the cracks of our front door.
“Ollie,” I whispered, shaking his shoulder. “Wake up.”
His eyes slowly blinked before they found mine under the moon’s light. “What’s wrong?”
“I think someone is outside the house.”
“Check it out, Mrs. ‘I’m-not-afraid-of-anything.’”
“It’s Mrs. Masters, now, thank you very much. And, no way. You go check it out.”
Another slam, another scuffle, and Ollie sat up from the bed and reached under the mattress to pull out a gun. My eyes widened, jumping back and forth from the weapon to his tense posture as he stood and slipped on sweats and a hoodie. Ollie tucked the small gun behind his back and grabbed a flashlight from the nightstand. He tried flipping on the lamp but the power was out. “Stay here and don’t move.”
“What are you doing with a gun?”
“I’ll be right back,” he replied, ignoring me. “Make sure your phone is close by.”
Ollie disappeared from our bedroom, and the sound of our front door closing rebounded off the walls inside as I sat in the dark. The only light was the moon, and my eyes fixed on the clock sitting on the bookcase. Every second waiting was long and agonizing, and my heartrate refused to obey the steadfast beat of time. Since the age of eight, I’d stopped being afraid up until the moment I’d met Ollie. I had never been a scared girl, but the one to be scared of. And, with everything to lose, I was fucking terrified.
The small tormenting voice in my head talked back, showing me every worst-case scenario, and I hadn’t heard the front door close when Ollie appeared in the doorway. “There’s nothing out there,” he said, setting the flashlight on the nightstand.
I released a relieved breath. “I’m sorry. I could’ve sworn I heard footsteps.”
Ollie shrugged off the damp hoodie and slid the gun back under the mattress. He planted two hands over the bed to face me. “It’s bad out there. It could’ve been the rain, love. The Office re-runs?” he asked. “The electric is out, but I can hook-up the laptop and use the internet from the mobile.”
I nodded, and Ollie grinned before the two of us pulled the large fluffy duvet and a few pillows off the bed and dragged everything into the living room. With the laptop set up over the coffee table, Ollie pushed play, and we sank inside the blanket when Ollie dropped his head against the back of the couch and let out a laugh.
The show had barely started, and I glanced over at him. “What’s so funny?”
“Déjà vu.” Ollie lifted his head and his eyes landed on mine, his smile infectious. “Back in the states, your dad, Bruce, told me a time when it was just him, your mom, and you. It’s the weirdest coincidence …” he shook his head and pulled me closer until my head rested against his chest. “This moment with you, Mia. I’m the happiest man alive, and I don’t want you to fall asleep without knowing that.”
He never did tell me the story, and I’d made a
mental note to ask him about it another day. We spent the rest of the stormy night tangled up in one another, slow hands roaming, and the pitter-patter of rain competing against the laptop and our light breaths and heavy moans.
The situation between Mia, Leigh, and my mum was not lost on me. For two weeks, I’d waited until the right time presented itself to confront Leigh. She hadn’t been at the Links house the week before, but as soon as I walked into a party Dex held at the Links location, through the crowd of bodies and thick smoke, my eyes immediately found her. The vibrating beat of the song pumped through the speakers and blasted into my ears, and I walked closer to see Leigh’s skirt bunched at the hips, eyes glazed, and laying back across a bloke’s chest on the couch. Her breast was in one hand, the other between her legs. I cocked my head, and the junkie across from them had a blunt between his lips with eyes fixed on the show.
My mouth watered, tasting fury, and I grabbed Leigh by the hair and yanked her off his lap, dragging her between people and into the hallway. I shoved her forward, her cheek pressed against the wall. Leigh whined, pissed drunk, and hardly hanging on.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I screamed into her ear over the music, but she couldn’t form a complete sentence, mumbling incoherently. She slid down the wall, and I managed to scoop her into my arms and carry her into the bathroom. She was blacking out, and panic replaced the anger, charging every nerve. In a frenzy, I laid her in the tub and flipped on the shower, spraying cold water over her lifeless form.
She was out, and I dropped to my knees, patting her cheek. “Come on, Leigh,” I shouted, every movement desperate. I flipped Leigh on her side and shoved my finger down her throat until her body heaved. Leigh lurched forward as contents came up and shot from her lips while my fingers pushed her hair back, trying to hold myself together.
Now Open Your Eyes (Stay With Me series Book 3) Page 30