And just like that, the two of us locked in slow motion as the rest of the world buzzed around us. My pace habitually slowed from Ollie’s proximity. He pulled his hand from his pocket and grabbed mine from my side as we passed one another.
Time stopped. My heart stopped. For two seconds, even my brain stopped turning all the words I wanted to shout out to him. Ollie gave my hand a soft squeeze before he released something in the palm of my hand.
Then the moment was suddenly gone.
I turned back around. Ollie didn’t.
In the palm of my hand was an origami rose from battered book paper, and my breath left me.
“What’s that?” Jake asked, bringing me back to speed with the rest of the world.
My heart shook as I tried to find oxygen after reading the script in Ollie’s handwriting across a petal—you’re my evermore.
“A reminder,” I whispered.
“Jett,” someone announced, and I looked up from my hand to see Ethan approaching. “You have a visitor.”
Jake and I exchanged glances.
After dropping my things off in my room, Ethan escorted me outside. Somber clouds kept the sun hidden, and after my eyes adjusted to the sunbeams seeping through the clouds, I saw my dad pacing back and forth beside a bench on the lawn, rubbing his hands together.
“Why is my dad here?” I wondered out loud, unsure if I wanted to know the answer. Did something happen to my step-mom, Diane? I looked over to Ethan, and he dropped his head.
“I’ll give you time alone with him,” Ethan said, gesturing with his hand. “I’ll wait until you’re finished to walk you back, alright?”
Nodding, I walked in my father’s direction. The fierce wind blew my hair in my face, and I did nothing to keep it away as my arms wrapped around myself in an attempt to beat the cold. Delaying the inevitable, I slowed my pace. My revived heart beat faster with every step closer. Nerves set in. This was unexpected, and I didn’t like the unexpected.
“You look good,” my dad said as he took a seat at the bench and patted the space beside him. “How are you?”
I sat down and looked over the man who I haven’t seen in over a year. The last time I’d seen those empty eyes were at the airport before he walked away from me. “What are you doing here?”
Yes, I’d changed, but our relationship hadn’t. My father had given up on me, too many times to count. When others remembered family vacations or game nights around the dinner table as childhood memories, his abandonment would always be mine. Gray, unforgiving eyes met mine, but still looked past me.
“I spoke with David … ”—My father paused and cleared his throat— “Dean Lynch. I spoke with Dean Lynch, and he said you’re doing well here.”
Twisting my neck back, Ethan stood before the door with his eyes trained on me, watching me like a hawk. I turned back to face my father. “I am.”
“You lost more weight.”
“My taste buds don’t agree with the food here,” I said casually with a single shrug.
My father nodded once and looked out in front of him before returning his eyes to me. “Regardless, you still look good.”
He didn’t come all this way to check on me. Cutting the awkwardness with my tongue, I drew in a cutting breath and asked, “Why the sudden visit?”
My father drew in the same deep breath and folded his hands over his lap. “You know, Mia, I never wanted kids of my own. But the second I met your mother, I would have agreed to anything to be with her—
“Cut to the chase.”
His chest rose while his empty gray eyes looked up to the sky. “This is hard for me, so I need you to listen.” His gaze flicked back over to me, waiting for understanding. I nodded, and he continued, “You were only two years old when I married your mom, and we agreed to keep this a secret, but I just can’t anymore. I was never fit to be a father, and Jackie’s not here anymore.” His breath shredded. “She left me. She left you. It’s not fair for either one of us.”
My heart bottomed out while the rest of me hung on to every tingle of nerves. “Keep what a secret?”
“You’re a smart girl. You can’t tell me you’ve never questioned it.”
“Questioned what?” My voice grew louder despite the blank expression on my face. “Stop bullshitting me and spit it out already.”
“You’re not my blood, Mia, and it’s time that you know the truth.”
An incredulous laugh belted from my lips, and my father snapped his furrowed brows together.
“You … ” I paused and shook my head, “You came all this way to tell me that? You could have saved half a day of your life and a thousand bucks.”
“Mia, stop this.”
“No”—I stood— “a simple phone call would have sufficed.”
“I’m not done talking with you. Don’t you want to know the rest?”
I stretched my arms out to my sides. “Oh, please … tell me dad, or should I start calling you Bruce? I can’t wait to hear this.”
“You were never born in the United States, Mia. You were born here … in Surrey. Your mother took you back to the US after you were born, so you have dual citizenship. The reason I was able to convince the judge, to get you into Dolor, in the first place.”
Another disbelieving laugh escaped me. I couldn’t help it. It was all too much. “Okay, I’ve heard enough.”
“I’m not done!”
“I am! Basically, what you’re saying is, I’m not your daughter, and I’m not welcome back. How am I doing so far, Dad?”
“Don’t say it like that. It’s not what I meant.”
“What exactly did you mean?”
“I was never cut out for this, but I did the best I could! Of course, you’re welcome back at any time. I want you in my life, but I want you to want to be in my life too, all while knowing the whole truth. And the truth of the matter is, we both somehow ended up together, but we made it this far. Diane will come around. She just needs some time. She doesn’t understand you and can be closed-minded by all this mental illness shit—
“Mental illness shit? Fuck you!” And I left him standing there as I marched back to Ethan in front of the building. What my dad really was saying was I was his past, and he wanted to move on without me. Ethan stood about sixty yards away, but each step I took away from my dad didn’t feel as if I was adding enough distance between us. My brain turned to mush, unable to sort my thoughts on how I felt, and tears never poured when I thought they would.
“You alright?” Ethan asked as he studied my face.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not, Mia. I can see it on your face.”
“Just take me back inside,” my voice hitched. “Please.”
My mask was slipping and trying to stay strong for this long turned into a struggle.
We walked back through the double doors of Dolor, and as soon as they closed behind us, Ethan grabbed my hand and tugged me through a side door on the right until we were out of sight. His long arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me in for a hug and I didn’t resist. I threw my arms around him, and as soon as my face hit his neck, I broke apart.
“He’s an arsehole,” Ethan said calmly, cradling me in his arms.
“How did you know?” I asked after pulling my head away and searching Ethan’s eyes. “How did you know why he came?”
“I talked to him when he first arrived.” Ethan pressed my head back into his neck while his other hand ran up my back as he fell back against the wall. His stubble grazed my cheek as he held me tighter. “The number of people who love you doesn’t determine your worth. Remember that.”
Through my dinner and shower routine, I stayed quiet as I tried to get a grip on everything that happened. The remainder of the night, I took my restlessness and anger out on my journal, writing everything out as if it were a punching bag. If
I said I wasn’t hurt, it would have been a lie.
The truth was, I was hurt because it was all a lie.
My entire life had been a lie.
Bruce was never my father, only an acting participant in my life because he loved my mom—not me. Never me. Probably the same reason why he blamed me for her death. Most likely why he never took the time to understand me. He never cared. Since my mom had died, all I became was baggage. A fucking obligation.
The lead tip broke while writing out the last sentence, and I threw the pencil against the cement wall before leaning back into the chair. My gaze landed on the clock above the door to read that it was almost midnight.
I slipped out of my hoodie and sweatpants, and threw myself over the mattress.
Pain ripped through the skin of my back. I cried out and jerked my body against the bed, trying to get up, but the pain only sliced deeper, driving my screams. The one foot hanging off the bed couldn’t find traction to the floor and my arms stayed pinned at my side as the burn in my back expanded with every sudden movement.
Afraid to move any further, I laid frozen as my screams turned into soft moans and tears fell from the corners of my eyes, unsure of what was happening to me. As long as I didn’t move, I would be okay. I had to lay still.
Ethan barged into my room and rushed to my side with wild eyes. “Jett? What’s wrong?”
Uttering a single word grew to be a challenge when all I could think about was the pain, and all I could do was let my silent tears flow freely.
“You’re scaring me. Talk to me!” Ethan demanded again, his hands gripping my shoulders.
When I didn’t speak, he pulled me up, and another scream clawed up my throat.
“What in the hell?” Ethan asked, examining my back. As quickly and carefully as he could, he picked me up off the mattress and carried me through the dark halls of Dolor to the nurse’s station. His lips landed on my forehead as he tried to console my cries the entire way.
“Ethan,” I tried to get out. “What’s in my back?”
Ethan ignored my question as he muttered threats and curses under his breath. “I swear I’m going to kill whoever did this.” He kicked the door open and laid me over my stomach in the first available bed as his footsteps frantically sounded all over the marble floor. “Rhonda!” The jarring pain simmered as if it lived inside me, and I laid as still as possible as I bit my cheeks to fight it off. Ethan’s face appeared before me again. “Rhonda isn’t working. What do you want me to do?”
“Make it stop!” I cried out. “Whatever it is, get it out of me!”
Ethan’s face fell before he left my side. A series of bangs and shuffling sounded around me, and then he returned to my side with tweezers in his hand. Ethan pulled a chair next to the bed and took a seat. “It’s glass. This is going to hurt.”
My eyes went wide, and the second he removed the first piece of jagged glass from my hip, my eyes clamped shut as I screamed.
After Ethan removed the bigger pieces, he peeled my tank top from my back, taking smaller bits along with it. He tossed my blood-soaked top in the trash before he got started on the smaller pieces, which took hours through the night. At one point, I passed out from the pain.
“This is from lightbulbs,” Ethan muttered to himself as he plucked small pieces from my shoulders, disposing of the contents in a nearby tray. The large fluorescents were turned off, leaving a spotlight over the place on my skin he was working on. He said he needed to see the glare from the glass, and it was better this way. “I think that’s the last of it. I’m going to clean up the blood.”
Still in shock and unable to speak, I only nodded.
A few moments later, Ethan returned with a wet towel. Starting at the nape of my neck, he patted the towel over my back, my bottom and down the backs of my thighs. Once finished, Ethan ran his hands over my back. “Tell me if you feel anything still in there.”
His warm, callused hands smothered the harsh cold of the room as I laid naked face down on the bed. I shook my head as he reluctantly ran his hands over my lower back and hips. “Here?”
“No.”
“Go on and check the rest of yourself.”
I reached behind me and swiped my bottom and the back of my thigh. Aside from the soreness and the multitude of cuts my fingers ran across, I didn’t feel any more glass. I pulled myself up and sat at the edge of the bed before Ethan. “Thank you.”
He dropped his head and took in a deep breath. We were both exhausted.
“I should’ve rang a bus had you seen by a doctor. Bloody hell, Jett, I should’ve rang the police, but it’s too late now.” Ethan lifted his head and met my gaze. “You can’t tell anyone I did that for you. I’ll lose my job.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“But I’m going to find out who did this.”
“Thank you.”
Ethan’s eyes roamed over my breasts before they snapped back up. “Sorry,” he mumbled and turned away. He jumped to his feet and dropped the tweezers in the tray. “Go take a shower right through there and I’ll get you some clean clothes.”
Warm blood trickled down my legs as I shuffled to the shower. I turned the knob and waited for it to heat up, thinking back to who the hell was screwing with me. Maddie had been here all summer long, quiet, and kept to herself, never bothering to even talk to me. There were several new students here, but the only person this prankster was targeting was me, and the only two people who I’d grown semi-close to over the last few weeks were Tyler and Jude. It had to be Jude. Tyler wasn’t capable of something like this.
I stepped under the searing water as the temperature burned my cuts, and I bit the inside of my cheek from crying out. Ethan knocked before entering, and a brush of cold air cut through the steam. “I’m leaving clothes over the counter for you with a towel.”
“Thanks,” I think I said.
“Are you going to be okay?”
I lifted my head under the water to hide my tears—weakness. The last thing I wanted to do was cry again. Ethan saw me as a victim, and I hated being the victim. I hated how much everything affected me and made me feel so fucking weak. Now more than ever, I wished I couldn’t feel anything again.
“Mia?”
“I’m fine,” I rushed out. I didn’t mean for it to come out harsh, but it was hard to speak at all without stumbling over my words.
“I know you by now. You’re lying.” The door closed. “This would rattle anyone. You need to quit acting like a badass and let me take care of you.”
I laughed as I finished rinsing off the body wash. “A badass? You think I’m a badass? Because I swear you treat me like a victim, and I’m tired of feeling like a fucking baby.”
“Right now, you are a victim!”—The shower curtain flew open with an angry Ethan on the other side— “I’m going to find out who this bastard is and take care of it. But you have to let me. You have to let me in and find out who’s doing this.”
I turned off the water as he grabbed the towel and handed it to me. “No offense, Ethan, but you make me feel like I’m something to pity, like a helpless girl who can’t take care of herself. I need Ollie … ” I let out a breath and wrapped the towel around me. “I miss him, Ethan. I wish it were him here. I wish he were the one to remind me it was going to be okay.” If Ollie were here, he’d say, ‘Are you mad, love? Good. Use it. Fight through it. We’re in this together,’ or something beautiful along those lines. And it was true, Ollie and I used to be a team, whereas Ethan takes care of my shit without me. “Where you remind me I’m weak, Ollie reminded me I wasn’t alone.”
Ethan’s lips pressed together as he clenched his fist at his side. “Look around you. Do you see Ollie anywhere? Because I don’t, and if you keep this up, you will be alone. Now, sit your arse down,” he ordered, pointing to the chair. “I have to bandage up the bigger wounds. Unless of cours
e, Ollie’s going to magically appear and do that for you?”
I rolled my eyes and straddled the chair. “Dick,” I muttered under my breath.
“Wanker,” Ethan replied in amusement.
My head snapped back to see him.
Ethan didn’t smile, though his eyes did. He pulled up a chair and sat behind me, balancing a first aid tin over his thigh. Carefully, he removed the towel and exposed my back. “Whoever did this got ahold of a case of lightbulbs, and planted broken pieces into your mattress. Has anyone been in your room?”
I shook my head. “No. Not that I recall. I don’t know. We were both busy when my dad showed up.” It had been a long day. Ethan applied cream before wrapping my back in bandages. “You think any of these will scar?”
“Probably,” he exhaled in concentration. “But it’s up to you on how deep you let the scars in.”
Chapter Nine
“There may be a storm inside my head,
but never get between me and my heart.
That is a battle you will lose every time.”
—Oliver Masters
ollie.
“GET OUTTA HERE, mate. We’re not Romeo and Juliet,” I laughed and chucked a pillow at Zeke from the bed as he sat on the floor of his dorm. To occupy my time and stay out of trouble, I spent the remainder of my days in Zeke’s room. I figured Zeke could share the goods.
The only dorm in all of Dolor to have a mini-fridge stocked with Schweppes and a telly.
He signed, “Pam and Jim,” and I threw my head back.
“It’s more intense than Pam and Jim,” I returned my attention to his telly as we watched re-runs of The Office. “This show is poisoning your brain. You need to read a book.”
Zeke shook his head rapidly and pointed over at the telly, signing more with his hands.
“No, Zeke. Not Pam and Jim. Not Ross and Rachel. Not Romeo and Juliet.”
Zeke jerked his head back and rolled his eyes.
“We’re Ollie and Mia. Not some bloody love story or fairy tale. Those all have endings,” I reiterated before finishing off the bottle. “Real love never dies.” I hopped off his bed and retrieved another bottle from the fridge, my mind wandering to weeks ago when I cried after our lovemaking in the library.
Even When I'm Gone (Stay With Me series Book 2) Page 9