by Nicky Shanks
I wish Oliver was here so we can read the journals together—he likes doing that.
I wish for a lot of things right now.
Chapter Two
Julie
“Julie.” Oliver’s voice wafts through my head. “Come on, baby, can you hear me?”
I open my eyes and he towers over me. His face is twisted with heavy sadness. The room around us isn’t my bedroom—it’s an enormous space with pale yellow walls. A huge bay window with a flower-printed window seat is behind Oliver as he walks over to join me on the bed. I swear that I feel his weight—like this isn’t a dream and he’s actually right here with me. The mattress sinks down at my hip, tricking my mind.
“Oliver.” I breathe his name with too much surprise. “What are you doing here? I thought you might be ignoring me.”
His warm syrupy laugh stuns me. “I could never ignore you, sunshine. I love you way too much to stay away from you too long.”
I sit up and gaze into those deep emerald eyes of his. He brushes my hair behind my ear and smiles down at me. “I called you and you didn’t answer; I want to talk about this.” I touch my stomach and Oliver’s wicked smile paints his lips. “I want to talk about what we’re going to do if it turns out we aren’t only a twosome anymore.”
He shakes his head, his chocolate hair brushing the top of his ear. “What is there to talk about? Nothing has been normal for you and me this far…” I notice wetness form in the corners of his eyes. “But what’s normal for us, really? Have you even taken a test to make sure?”
I want to scratch his eyes out.
Then…I think.
“No, I haven’t.” I smile. “I just assumed…and then, damn! I should have taken a test before telling you! I should’ve kept my big mouth shut.”
He smiles and his cool laugh sends shivers down my spine. “It doesn’t matter, baby. Either way, I’m yours. I belong to you, Julie. No matter what direction life takes us in.”
He leans into me and I feel his warm lips sliding in between mine. The heat from his tongue inside my mouth ignites the fire inside my chest. With each second he touches me, the world around me goes up in flames. Oliver slides his warm, rough hand up my thigh and underneath my t-shirt; my body temperature rises instantly as his fingertips touch my bare skin.
I let myself relax as he tickles the small of my back, pushing me against him. He swiftly pulls me up into his lap, our lips only inches from each other. “You are absolutely everything to me.” He breathes against my lips as he laces our fingers together and squeezes. “You have completely unraveled me and convinced me to break the first rule I made to protect myself.”
I try and remember his rules.
Rule Number One: Don’t let your guard down.
Rule Number Two: Don’t take anything for granted.
Rule Number Three: Keep your secrets safe.
Rule Number Four: Don’t destroy your own happiness.
To be honest, his rules don’t even make sense. How can someone be so on guard about themselves, yet be able to make themselves truly happy?
I’ll just have to re-write his rules for him—something more my style.
Rule Number One: Don’t let love pass you by.
Rule Number Two: Be open to love, no matter the consequences.
Rule Number Three: Never lose sight of who you truly are.
Rule Number Four: If all else fails…hold on and never give up.
Something like that. Rules are meant to be broken—the past six months have taught me that—and if I want to live in a magical fantasy world…then that’s my prerogative. Not that Oliver follows his own rules anymore, anyway.
I made him break his first rule. He fell in love with me.
“You’ve made me into a man I never dreamed I could be. How can I love you so much when you don’t trust me?” His sadness drips into my mind. I search my thoughts quickly for something to make him feel better; when he hurts, I hurt.
“I trust you.” The air in my lungs is spent. “I trust you, Oliver.”
He shakes his floppy hair. “No, you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t be worried that I would hate you for helping me create a fucking miracle, Julie.” His arm slides around me and he rests his warm hand on my stomach. “That’s what this is, a fucking miracle.”
I laugh. “Such a charmer.”
He isn’t amused. I watch the shadows flitter around his eyes. “Hey, I don’t want you to worry, okay? I love you, Julie. There isn’t anything I won’t do for you—I think I’ve proven that a few times over.” Fear dances in waves in his electric green gaze; how can I be truthful when I’d give anything not to hurt him again?
“I know you love me.” My voice is small. I try to comfort him by nuzzling into his chest, and he kisses the top of my head. He nestles his nose in my mess of blonde hair; the hard-on in his pants is poking my thighs. I think about staying silent for a few minutes until he realizes I’m aware of the hardness rubbing against my skin; when his eyes meet mine, he catches me thinking about it and I blush.
There’s no harm in indulging in a fantasy, right?
Oliver cradles my ass with his rough hands. His full lips graze mine and send shockwaves through my entire body; I want him so freaking badly. He kisses the soft parts of my neck, and with each light stroke I become more and more his. He is so strong that it’s overwhelming—but I want him to take me. I need to feel the anxiety in his touch.
The softness of the mattress feels so erotic as he sets me down on the bed in a sitting position. There isn’t much for subtleties anymore; I find myself reaching for his jeans and quickly unzipping them, careful not to get his hardness caught in the crossfire. His leg muscles tense when my fingers grip the inside of his boxer briefs. Slowly, I push both the briefs and the jeans down his muscular thighs, and he moans so deep that it vibrates my body. His lips attach to mine before he gently pushes my back to the bed before he climbs on top of me, his weight comforting as it presses me into the mattress. He roughly kicks the jeans off from around his ankles and smiles down at me with fire in his eyes.
He tugs my pajama shorts and panties to the side, and his thick erection pushes into my flesh as both of our bodies sizzle with pleasure. I don’t remember hearing him open any wrappers, but what’s the use in worrying about that now? His breathing hitches as he pushes gently against me, suctioning his lips to my collarbone. His hands find the sides of my throat and rest there, careful not to squeeze unexpectedly.
“I fucking miss you,” he breathes.
I let the warm air brush over my exposed ass as he keeps moving in and out slowly. Our lips meet and he crushes my body against his, pushing harder this time. I can’t control any part of my body as he thrusts into me, moaning into my hair.
Sex with Oliver blows my freaking mind. He’s so attentive to the little things: sensory things like touch and taste motivate him. The feel of my skin seems to turn him on in the most intense way. It’s exciting to know that with one smile I can turn him on; it’s hard to not love someone when all they think about is you.
“I love you,” he whispers as our bodies tense and the walls melt around us. Explosions fill my head for a few seconds before I can catch my breath. He clutches onto my body as if he needs me to make him feel safe. “You drive me so damn crazy.” He laughs and pushes sweaty, matted hair from his forehead.
I open my mouth to speak, but he picks me up and wraps his arms around me. I feel his hard stomach inches away from my touch. I hear his breathing even out and his broad smile widens as he looks at me. “Are you willing to follow the rules now?” he says, and I feel his thumb against the inside of my thighs. He is dangerously close to slipping it inside of me, and I can’t think straight. “Julie. Answer me.”
“I-I don’t know,” I stutter, and his silky laugh returns. “Maybe we can make a new set of rules, ones that don’t contradict themselves and set us up for failure.”
Did I really just say that?
Oliver lowers his head down to m
ine, and his lips press against the corner of my mouth. My body is in a frenzy—it’s like I’m being pleasurably electrocuted. I can feel him getting hard again and it drives me crazy; I know he’s not finished with me yet. It’s hard reading him sometimes, but I know he hasn’t had his fill. I get ready for him to enter his space again and prepare myself for the intensity that is coming now that he’s gotten his sweetness out of the way.
I can’t move.
I can’t think.
I can’t speak.
I can’t even freaking blink.
“Four simple rules, huh? I think we can manage that.” His voice gets rough as he positions himself to push inside of me again. My body bucks against his for more—I want more. He lays me on my side and wraps my legs around his from behind. The room vanishes and he pounds into my flesh with such force that it takes me to another place. I hear him whisper my name but he’s far away—I’m in a land where nothing can ever go wrong.
“Fuck,” he grunts, and a trillion colorful pieces of glass break in my mind, hovering over us like glittering shards of satisfaction. I force my eyes open and his gaze is locked onto mine, searching. “Are you okay?” He tries to catch his breath. “I’m sorry, that was too rough—”
I heave in deep breaths. “No. That was perfect.”
Oliver snorts. “There you go again, using words I don’t understand.”
“You understand them.” I turn to face him and press my legs together, because they’re shaking uncontrollably. “I think you’re just scared of the truth.”
A loud beeping noise hurts my ears. Oliver glances around the room for the noise; he looks back at me and smiles. “Time to wake up.” He smirks and reaches for my phone on the bedside table.
***
“Oliver.” I say his name into the air above me.
I’m in the freaking pool house.
I groan and sit up. “Did you have a nice sex dream?” I hear Oliver’s voice from the first night we met. It startles me, but I know he’s not here.
I was dreaming.
Of course I was. Oliver isn’t here anymore.
However I choose to look at it, my face flushes even though I’m alone. Instantly, I get angry with myself; how can I be like this? I need to do something other than lie in bed all day sulking, waiting for him to call me back. Nora is in the hospital resting and I don’t want to bother her with any drama unless absolutely necessary; she’s had enough of her own to last a lifetime.
I pick up my phone and sift through the contacts. I have no one else to call—no one else that can help me escape from this. I see Staci’s number come across the screen and instantly hit the call button. She answers on the second ring.
“Julie?” Her voice is bursting with surprise. “I’m so glad you called me! I haven’t talked to you since Lake Reed. How are you? How’s Oliver?”
I clear my throat. I don’t know what to say, but I decide not to tell her about the fight or about the fact that I’m late. For once, I just want one conversation to not revolve around the things that are up in the air in my life.
“We’re all fine,” I lie. “I just thought I’d keep in touch.”
“Did you want to get together?” she asks.
I nod like she can see me. “Are you free?”
“Yes!” she squeals. “I’m about to finish up here at work; a few of my clients canceled, but as soon as I get this perm set, I can meet in about an hour for a late lunch. At Berk’s Café, okay? See you soon!”
She hangs up before I can talk myself out of this. I know I need the distraction, but Staci is a bit too much, too soon. Not to mention she tried sleeping with Oliver not long ago. To be fair, she stopped pursuing him after his feelings for me weren’t a secret anymore.
I force myself to get up and shower. The hot water doesn’t help wash away any of my bad thoughts or worries, but that’s okay. I need them. I want them as a reminder that life is messy and unpredictable. I touch my stomach and groan. As if I really need a reminder of life’s unpredictability, considering the one I might already have.
After a long fifteen minutes in the shower, I make myself get out because I know I can’t hide in here forever. There’s a real world out there waiting for me to take and make my own.
Unfortunately, my positive attitude fades as I stand in the doorway of my closet. With a towel wrapped around my body, I look into the full-length mirror behind the door to my left and frown.
I don’t recognize myself.
Physically or mentally.
Even the jeans and pink blouse I pull on don’t help me feel any different. I brush my thick, blonde hair and braid it down the side of my neck…and I think about Oliver. I’ve always known he likes when I wear my hair like this; he tugs on it too much for it to be a secret.
I sigh and take a look in the bathroom mirror as I rest my hands on the cold marble countertop.
I’m pale.
I brush my teeth and put some makeup on, then take another peek at my reflection.
I am really, really pale.
My stomach growls and I cross my arms over my torso.
And I’m seriously hungry.
I search for a pair of sneakers and finally find a matching pair, pushing my feet into them before leaving the pool house behind. I need to borrow a car, but I don’t want Randy knowing where I’m headed. The spare keys to his BMW are hanging on the key rack in the kitchen, so I grab them before anyone catches me leaving. I can hear Clyde in his room talking on the phone, but I don’t know where Randy is, so I try to sneak out the best I can after scribbling him a note so he won’t worry about me—or his missing car.
The garage is cold from the nip of the late September air coming through the cracks of the door. I stare at the car for a few minutes, remembering what happened the last time I borrowed it. I ran it into a tree—on accident. This time, though, my mind is much clearer. I slide inside and buckle in, making sure I’m careful over my stomach.
There is so much I want to say to Oliver, and I don’t even know how to say it.
One thing is for sure: I’m not going to be this mousey, soft-spoken girl anymore. I’m going to fight for what I want, and if that means giving Oliver an ultimatum…then so be it. The sour feeling in my stomach returns when I think this, because I don’t want to be that kind of woman. I don’t want to force him to do something he doesn’t want to do.
But he can’t have me unless he embraces what could be, either.
What if I am pregnant and Oliver never speaks to me again?
Can I do this on my own?
I pull out of the driveway and head to the Rockford Women’s Clinic on my way to Berk’s Café to meet Staci. I have to know—once and for all—if I’m late because of all the stress I’ve been under lately…
Or if I’m carrying Oliver Jackson’s baby.
Chapter Three
Oliver
These damn rules are supposed to be saving my life, yet I can’t keep myself from getting in my own fucking way.
Lucy follows me up to my apartment and touches my shoulders; I don’t fucking like it, and I pull away from her immediately. The only woman who should be touching me like that is Julie, not some random what’s-her-name that has no business being here. But I’m the one who decided to go to The Tavern after me and Julie’s fight, and I’m the one who decided to bring Lucy home with me even after Harley warned me not to go down this path.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Julie is going to kill me—how can I come back from this? I’d like to say that I hate myself for picking up random women in random places, but I never really thought twice about it before now. Whatever made me feel good in that moment, that’s what I did. That’s how I got in this damn mess, after all—when I picked up Julie for the first time on our way to the cabin.
Lucy’s silky, emerald-green dress brushes my skin, and it doesn’t leave an exotic burn like Julie’s touch always does. A hole forms in my mind that all of Julie’s memories get crammed into. My
body is in two halves, and they’re fighting over what I’m going to do with Lucy.
Jesus, Oliver, you’re in trouble.
I break free from her and rummage around the kitchen for more booze. I’m going to need to be plastered to do this; not that it’s a valid excuse. When I find some tequila, I open the bottle and start drinking straight from it.
I really need to think about this…maybe Julie isn’t running from me again and everything will actually be okay for once.
“Whoa, there.” Lucy snickers. “Slow down a little. Life isn’t that horrible to drown your sorrows like that.”
Screw you, Lucy. You don’t know what my life’s like.
I was just like you once, Lucy: careless and slutty.
Then Julie crash landed into my lap.
Now, my insides are twisting and turning because I miss her so fucking much, but I’m here with Lucy…someone nowhere near what Julie is.
Before I realize it, I’ve damn near guzzled half of the bottle of tequila. The room spins so much that I collapse onto a kitchen bar stool and look at her. I don’t bother looking into her eyes—I don’t even care to remember what color they are. But I notice her.
Long, wild red hair.
Slender, pointy nose.
Thin, blood-red lips.
Easy. Ready. Willing.
“I’m in love with her,” I mumble and take another swig from the bottle. I don’t even feel the sting of the alcohol anymore. “I fucking love her, do you know that? And yet here I am—with you. What the hell is wrong with me, Lucy?”
Her gaze locks onto mine. “As far as I can see…nothing.”
I scoff. “She’s literally perfect in every single way. Every single fucking way, Lucy.”
It doesn’t even cross my mind that I’m being an asshole to her. Actually, it does cross my mind, but I really don’t fucking care. I shake my head, trying to get the fuzz out.
“I mean…what the hell is actually wrong with me? I have Julie—had Julie—and now she’s gone because I can’t quit fucking things up.”