by Nicky Shanks
“Did I kill anyone?” I mumble and then cough. Something is pressing on my lungs. “Please tell me I didn’t hurt anyone.”
The old man shakes his head. “Almost yourself, but that’s all. Try and relax, the ambulance is on its way. You’ve lost a lot of blood there, sweetheart.”
I almost killed myself.
The world goes black and the screams drown out my heartbeat.
Chapter Twenty-One
Julie
It wasn’t the darkness that kept me up at night these past few weeks. It wasn’t the uncertainty of what Oliver might be doing. Or who he was doing it with. I never really worried about him coming back to me, I guess. I sort of just assumed he always would. I feel like our lives are glued together whether we like it or not.
I smile. Daylight is now coming through the open curtains of the room. I can feel Oliver’s warmth behind me as he shifts his weight, and his grip loosens. Our first night back at the cabin—the place where it all began—and I made it so complicated and full of drama that I am really ashamed of myself.
“Good morning, sunshine.” His voice is raspy. He buries his nose in my hair. I wonder why he likes to do that so much. It’s…different.
Sensual.
Brandon liked to grab and pull, take what he wanted. Sometimes with so much aggression that it hurt a little; I was a little scared to even go to sleep at the same time with him. Oliver likes to nuzzle and paw; he likes to be gentle and sweet with me. Every little amazing thing he does for me cancels out one bad thing that Brandon has done.
I slowly roll over to face him. I notice that his eyes are still closed but he’s smiling. The sunlight catches his face just right and he looks fuzzy; his five o’clock shadow has now turned into a ten o’clock thick patch of dark hair. As he yawns and stretches, he playfully tugs my body to his. I feel like the Earth has stopped moving just for the two of us and I never want it to start again.
“Good morning to you.” I giggle as he kisses my fingers. He opens his eyes to take his first look of me of the day. I take the time to study him.
Bright emerald eyes.
Dangerously square jawline.
Thick, warm lips.
Big, rough hands.
Shaggy, dark chocolate hair.
He yawns again and looks at the oversized wall clock. He shakes his head. “We slept in, it’s almost ten.” He nods toward the clock. “We can be lazy; we could just call it a day and stay in bed. I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”
“It’s vacation, we are allowed.” I giggle. He shakes out his tousled dark hair and runs his thick fingers through it. “But, I can’t stay in bed with you all day. You won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself.”
Oliver smiles. “I like being here with you. Is that such a crime?”
I jump out of the bed—out of his reaching grasp—and flick my hip to the side. “You like being here with me, huh? How much, exactly?”
His interest piques as he climbs out of bed from the other side, slowly. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs; he must’ve gotten hot during the night and taken off the rest of his clothes. I can see his ripped body creeping around the bed to get to me. I back up into the bathroom slowly, not really thinking of a strategy or an escape route.
“You know I love being here with you,” he says.
I’m fully in the bathroom now and he owns the doorway. I’m stuck inside the room. There’s no way out, even if I wanted one. I stand my ground and dig my heels in. I pout and stare directly into his eyes. “Prove it.”
I don’t even get to take a single breath before he reaches me. He picks me up and throws me on the bathroom sink, pressing his body in between my legs. He locks his warm lips with mine, taking control of my…everything. Body and soul, he has taken them both from me. I just hand them to him like I was only guarding them. His lips feel so nice and familiar, I find myself leaning into his kiss with each passing millisecond.
I try not to think of the ways I can avoid it like I used to do with Brandon. I meet each of his twists and turns perfectly. His hands slide down my sides and rest at my hips. I want him so bad I can’t stop my brain from whirring around the thought. It excites me that I excite him. I can feel the desire radiating from him, but he pulls away from me and kisses my forehead. He leaves me sitting on the counter and turns on the shower. I watch him take off his boxer briefs and give me a glimpse of his ass before stepping in and shutting the door behind him.
“What was that?” I gasp into the air. “Why did you stop—what’s wrong?”
He laughs and peeks his head around the shower door. “It’s called blue balls, sunshine. It’s about time I gave them to you since you’ve been giving them to me for weeks.”
I touch my lips; they’re still vibrating from his rough kiss. I can still feel him there, his tongue on mine and the taste of last night’s beer now back in my mouth. I jump off the cabinet and storm out of the bathroom.
I change into some jeans and a fresh t-shirt, ready to explore the other rooms of the house. I’m still really pissed at him, but this house is so big that my anger fades every time I discover something new. I’ve already seen the four bedrooms, so I skipped those. There are four bathrooms with lush tubs and showers, one with heated floors and a bidet. I think about the night I had to pee and barged into the bathroom while he showered. I’ll never admit to him that I didn’t know about the other bathrooms.
The last room I step into is the most magical place I have ever laid eyes on. Books on shelves from the floor to the ceiling, a light blue suede sofa on one side, and the golden chaise from the bedroom on the other.
“Oh, good. You found it,” I hear Oliver say behind me. He slips my hand into his. “This is for you. I thought you might want a place you can get away from me when I piss you off or you just want to be alone. A place of your own inside the cabin.”
I don’t even know what to say to him. I feel embarrassed for acting like a baby but this is so incredible. I squeeze his hand before letting go so I can examine all of the books and choose where to start. “When did you do this?” I run my fingers down a row of leather-backed first editions.
“Madrie and Paul did it before we got here,” he confesses. “It’s my grandfather’s old study, so it wasn’t that hard to change around.” He could have taken the credit, but his honesty makes me smile. “They were more than happy to help me doing something nice for you after I begged and pleaded my life away.” I can’t help myself as I turn swiftly on my heel and throw myself into his arms. They tighten around me. I thank him by crying all over his shirt and he even has to place his hands on my hips and help hold me up.
“I’m glad you like it.” He smiles down at me. He keeps my body close to his as I turn back to the mountains of books around me, and I wonder how many there actually are sitting up there, calling my name for me to crack them open and read their insides.
“Thank you, Oliver.” I walk over to another shelf with old fairy tale books on it. “This is too much, even for me.”
Oliver waves me off with one hand. The other hand hooks onto my jeans belt loop and tugs me backward into his grip. “Nothing is too much for you. I will always do anything I possibly can to make you happy. Does this make you happy?”
I nod. “So, so happy.”
He smiles and looks proud of himself. He obviously doesn’t always get something completely right. “Well, then, I’ll leave you alone for a while so you can lose yourself in another world.” He mocks me by wiggling his fingers and acting like a magician saying abracadabra. I don’t even care or notice him leave. I open my first book and read the first few chapters of The Wizard of Oz. I set the book down and walk over to one of the bookcases by the window. I pick up another book, a tattered orange-colored hardback, and open it. There’s a man’s handwriting, short and scratchy. As I start reading a few pages, I realize it’s someone’s personal notebook. I instantly shut it and blush, but there’s no one around. I’m not about to read someone e
lse’s personal thoughts. What if it’s Oliver’s? No, this book is too old. I look around the room as if someone might be watching me. I take the book back to my chaise, slowly opening it again and reading the first page.
September 8, 1991
Veronica is back. I’m not quite sure what is wrong with me; my father thinks I am too soft because I cannot fight her influence. I am completely in love with her. I tell him this, but he doesn’t care.
My father does not know what love is.
I let her back in my life only because she has come to me, telling me she is pregnant. Is the baby mine? I don’t know. I am not sure that I care. I will love that baby to the ends of the Earth just because it is a part of her. And even if it is not a part of me by blood, I will do everything I can to make sure that child has what it needs.
Until my father cuts me off when he finds out, of course.
He hates that Veronica is a waitress at the Inn. I love her just the same. She has cheated on me several times. I love her just the same. She tells me her hopes and dreams and I want to make them come true. I have never, ever, in my whole twenty-five years of life loved anyone more than my Veronica.
Until the moment she told me she was pregnant.
Is it possible to love someone when you haven’t met yet?
I will never admit it, but I am secretly hoping for a boy.
Blood does not mean family.
Love means family.
I read a few more pages, biting my fingernails. I really hope I don’t uncover any juicy family secrets. This book has to be from Oliver’s father, Colin; I gathered that much just from reading the first few pages. I hear someone knocking lightly at the door and I panic; I hide the book underneath The Wizard of Oz. Oliver sticks his head inside and smiles at me. He whispers, “Are you hungry?”
My throat is so dry I can’t even begin to say anything. I nod and paint a sweet smile on my face. I try to hide the fact that I uncovered a family secret that Oliver might not even know about. I curse myself the entire walk downstairs. He’s prepared a cute little brunch with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, grapes, and strawberries. For a moment, he distracts me by pulling out my chair for me and tucking me in under the table. He pours a glass of champagne into a flute in front of me. I watch his lean body sit down in his own seat and he grins. “Fancy, right?” The laughter in his eyes almost makes me spit out the champagne. He refills the glass as I sit it back down with no judgment.
“I love peanut butter and jelly.” I wiggle my nose at him. He leans up and kisses the tip of it. “How could you possibly have known?”
Oliver scoffs and winks at me. His gestures hit the bullseye every single time lately. “Everyone likes it, it’s part of everyone’s childhood.”
Is it possible to love someone when you haven’t met yet?
I will never admit it, but I am secretly hoping for a boy.
I shift my weight in the chair and get nervous. Oliver is good at seeing right through me; it’s going to be nearly impossible to keep this from him. I try to small talk with him for the better part of an hour but he knows something is up with me. I watch him search his mind for the right question to ask. So I don’t get offended and storm off, I’m sure. “Are you chomping at the bit to get back to your library?” He sheepishly glances over at me. I can feel the pride it brings him to have put that together for me.
“I really do love the library, thank you,” I say around my third glass of champagne. The room is getting a little fuzzier. I finish the fourth glass and bite my lip in embarrassment. I don’t think he even notices in the middle of his fourth beer, though. That makes me feel a little better. “I think I will go back in for a while, if that’s okay with you.”
He nods and waves his hand toward the doorway of the kitchen. “Go, please. I want you to enjoy that library as much as you can while we are here.” His eyes darken as his voice thickens. “And when we come back for other visits too.” The hope in his eyes fills the room and I can feel myself thinking about the future and how much he believes in it.
I don’t say anything when I stand up and kiss his cheek. I nearly skip out of the room and leave him behind me, speechless. I feel like I am never going to reach the library again; I’m out of breath from running back here. I shut the door behind me and launch myself back at the orange journal from Colin.
I open the book and go back to where I left off. I read a few more pages before I have to shut it again. Some of the entries are light and happy, some of them are far from that. I feel bad for Colin for the way Veronica was treating him. I also feel love for him for taking care of her when he wasn’t sure if Oliver was his son or not. I force myself to open the journal again and scan through a few more entries, coming across one that starts to make my eyes water.
December 25, 1991
We are having a boy! Merry Christmas to us!
I am in such shock and amazement; this is all I have ever wanted.
And I want this with Veronica. She asked me the most horrific question this morning. Even after I greeted her with Christmas presents and breakfast in bed. She asked me if I would adopt the baby if he wasn’t mine.
Oliver is mine, I tell her. He is mine no matter what.
She believes me, I know she does. That is why she laughed at me. She didn’t want me to only claim Oliver, she wanted me to take care of him alone. I ask what she means but I already know the answer, she wants to leave me. She tells me that she doesn’t want to be a mother. She tells me that if I don’t take care of the baby, she will leave him with strangers.
She said the word adoption but that means leaving him with strangers.
Oliver deserves so much more than that.
Oliver deserves the world. He deserves to laugh and play and be free and loved by me and by Veronica but she doesn’t believe that. She tells me that she doesn’t want to be with me but yet she keeps showing me signs of love. She holds my hand, she kisses me, she tells me things that she doesn’t tell anyone else.
So, why won’t she just stay?
Why is she fighting it so much?
I don’t know how to make her believe that I am in love with her.
But it’s killing me to keep trying.
I cry so much that I have to put the book back down. I hide it just in case I can’t see Oliver come in through my tears. I feel so bad about what I am doing to him; this is the same thing his mother did to Colin. I want to read more but I decide that I should put it away for now. I sneak a peek at the next entry before I do. I have to satisfy my curiosity and then I promise myself I’ll return it to the shelf and never look at it again.
January 1, 1992
I caught her again last night.
I wish she would stop doing this to me.
She tells me she loves me and then lets me down.
Time after time.
I can feel Oliver kicking inside of her when we fight and then things calm down. He doesn’t like the turmoil she brings either. What am I going to do? I can’t have him be born into this. I want so much better for him.
My beautiful son.
I haven’t met you yet but I promise you I love you already.
I promise you life and love, I promise you safety.
I promise you more than this, more than she gives me. This is all she will ever be able to give to you. I wish she didn’t hate us both, son, but I can’t control her. No matter how much I wish I could. I am done even trying.
Once you are born, I will welcome you with open arms.
It will be us against the world, Oliver Frankford Jackson.
You and your Dad.
All we need is each other.
All we need is love.
I force myself to close the book before my tears smear the ink. I wish Oliver’s father was still alive. I have a feeling I would have liked him a lot. Maybe that’s how Oliver is such a soft-handed man most of the time, being raised by someone like Colin.
Oliver hadn’t talked about his parents before, unless you count
ed him telling me that his grandfather was a jerk and then he died. I never knew Oliver’s mother’s name; he never spoke of her at all except that he has no clue where she is or if she’s even alive.
I sit in my chaise, so devastated that it’s hard for me to breathe. I pray that he doesn’t interrupt me until I am better. I hear him talking on the phone somewhere in the house. I’m able to get myself together and figure out a game plan, ready to make a break for the bedroom if I have to. I don’t want him to ask me a million questions about why tears are rolling down my cheeks. I think about Colin and how sad his life must have been before Oliver was born. All he ever wanted was to be loved—cherished by the one person he wanted the most.
I have to get over myself and start being better for Oliver.
I have to allow myself to be loved by the one man that loves me.
Triple crap times infinity.
Screw the rules, I wasn’t meant to follow them anyway.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Oliver
She has been in her library nearly all day. I stand outside the closed door and wonder what she’s reading; I think about how cute she probably looks all cuddled up on her favorite chaise. I almost knock three different times but keep myself from disturbing her. I know that I won’t be able to do it for long.
I made dozens of phone calls already this morning. Just because I don’t have a job doesn’t mean I don’t work: I spend my morning checking on investments and making my grandfather’s money work for me.
She waits until I’m about to knock again before she opens the door. “Come in.” She motions for me to sit with her. There isn’t space for us both so she stands up, gently pushes me down onto the chaise, and then places her body in my lap. She curls up with her legs against my chest. I can feel her sadness through my shirt, it’s almost deafening.
“What’s wrong, sunshine?” I say softly to her and stroke her hair. “Do you not like the books here? I can get you different ones if you want.” She shakes her head and places her ear over my heart. She listens to my heartbeat, which is getting faster by the millisecond. I can feel her fingers gripping my shirt. Something is wrong with her. “Tell me what’s on your mind,” I demand, sitting her upright to face me. “I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.”