Even When I'm Gone (Stay With Me series Book 2)

by Nicole Fiorina

  “Even the devil was once an angel.”

  A chuckle comes from his throat. “How does the story end?”

  “That’s the beauty of it, mate. It doesn’t. Love has no beginning and no ending, much like the fall no one warned me about. Love is unpredictable, impulsive, and doesn’t allow anyone or anything close enough to threaten it, much like the girl I fall every day for. Her black heart was a shield and her lost soul had been searching—protecting herself from predators while wandering the earth for me. Perhaps God gave up on his angel too soon … ”

  “You’re questioning God now?”

  “All I’m saying is, I would’ve given her an eternity plus a day past crestfallen.”

  —Oliver Masters

  Ollie.

  “Come sit with us,” Bria suggested, batting her lashes over me.

  My eyes landed on Mia tucked away in the corner.

  How did it come to this, Mia?

  She sat at the opposite end of the mess hall—opposite of me—alone and abandoned. Nowadays, she didn’t care about the way her hair looked or the clothes she wore. She drowned herself in that atrocious oversized hoodie that wasn’t here last year—and not mine. It was new, along with this situation we found ourselves in.

  “It won’t be awkward anymore now that we bumped Mia from our table,” Bria added.

  I blinked my gaze to Bria. Head held high and lips pursed, she looked good, comfortable under her new, unsaid ranking at Dolor.

  “Mia’s table,” I reminded her. “It was Mia’s and Zeke’s before any of you bothered to show Zeke an ounce of compassion.” I tilted my head. “Or did you forget?”

  A smirk tugged on the corner of her lip before a frown ate it up. Sighing, I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. “Looks to me you forgave Blondie fairly quickly.” My head nudged in the direction of the new girl sitting beside Zeke. “Wonder why that is. Rumor says Jude’s john bounced between the two of you and you had no idea.”

  “Jealous?” Bria asked, leaning over the table. Her shirt dipped, revealing her tiny bare breasts, B-cups, nipples the size of quarters but the color of pennies. I’d never been a boob-guy, but my knob tightened against my black jeans, and my mouth watered. I ran my palms across the surface of my jeans. Nope, never been a boob-guy, only a Mia-guy, but right now all I could think about was how I could fit one whole breast into my mouth. “What’s the matter, Ollie?”

  “Walk away,” I commanded, eyes still fixed on the buffet laid out before of me. It was anyone’s guess what Bria’s intentions were, but here they were, mine for the taking.

  Bria laughed and straightened her posture. “My invitation still stands.”

  Double. Fucking. Meaning.

  Both a giant mistake.

  “Did you get lost?” Dr. Butala asked as soon as I entered his office. A white noise machine sat on a small table beside the door, humming low, and I ignored him as I took a seat in the black chair across from his L-shaped desk. Extending my arm off to the side, I waited for him to take my vitals.

  Dr. Butala pinched his lips together, rolled back in his seat, and opened his drawer. “Any changes since last week?” He shuffled around in the drawer, gathering medical equipment I didn’t know the names of.

  Since the night I’d fucked Mia in her room, I’d mellowed out. I wasn’t angry anymore, didn’t have mood swings or lash-outs, I was … just.

  Just living.

  Just breathing.

  Just sleeping.

  And just horny.

  “Your ticking is gone.”

  My fog lifted, and my focus returned to him. “My what?”

  He pulled up a chair beside me and wrapped the plastic around my bicep. “The bouncing of your knee. It’s gone.”

  “Oh, yeah … would you look at that … ” I hadn’t even noticed. Had I finally found the calm? The eye of the storm. It was nice here. Like a cyclone, chaos circled me, but it couldn’t touch me. I’d finally entered a place where I felt nothing at all. If only my brain could pass the message along to my throbbing dick.

  Dr. Butala pumped the black bulb as the plastic clenched tighter around my arm. Words took a hiatus as he locked eyes on his watch.

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  The beating in my arm labored against its constraint.

  Then the ripping of the velcro snapped me out of the zone.

  “Vitals look great,” he offered, returning to his chair behind his barrier. “I think we have you under the right dosage of medication and found a combination that works for you.”

  “Brilliant.”

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Dr. Butala entered notes into the computer. His brown eyes hid behind his glasses. “And the … erections?” he asked low under the white noise, not bothering to return his gaze to me.

  “All cured,” I lied with my palms in the air.

  His shoulders rolled back. “Good. I was beginning to think it was psychological.”

  I lifted a brow in the air. “Psychological?”

  “Well, yes. The brain is very complex. I can do my best to balance the chemicals, but childhood trauma can’t be undone. I’m going to make you an appointment with Dr. Conway.”

  “I’m good.”

  “It’s not an option.”

  I shook my head and raised from the chair. “Sounds fantastic, mate.”

  “Great,” he bit back with stone features. “Tomorrow it is. Be there at two.”

  I threw a thumb in the air before heading toward the door.

  “And Oliver?” Pausing with my hand on the doorknob, I waited without turning to meet his gaze. “Don’t be late.”

  Cracking open another can of Schweppes, I laid back over Zeke’s mattress with my eyes glued to the back of his head and my ears pinned to the telly.

  The poor kid had been hard at work piecing back together the destroyed origami rose. I told him it didn’t matter anymore, but stubborn Zeke was determined to fix my mistakes.

  I threw a pillow at the back of his head to get his attention. Zeke’s head snapped back to face me with his brows knitted together. “Let it go, mate. Relax. Watch The Office,” I suggested with my hand pointed toward the telly. Zeke shook his head and returned to the puzzle before him at his desk. “Your loss.”

  The Schweppes hit the back of my throat, bubbly and kindling the mint in my gum.

  Crazy to think just a year ago I had planned to take the kid home with me.

  Oscar had told me what happened. Said he’d overheard Zeke’s story in the breakroom, and how Zeke had been here since he was no older than seven or eight, abandoned on Dolor property like an unwanted pet. Instantly, I took to the kid. Got to know him, learned his language. Zeke had a heart of gold, and an old soul mine related to. Somehow, we clicked. He didn’t remember much of his past and made a home here.

  I’d made a promise to Zeke. As soon as I’d graduate, I’d adopt him and show him what it should feel like to have a real home. We could find out together. An actual birthday. A real Christmas. A real family—a family consisting of Zeke and myself.

  A family both of us wanted yet never had.

  The only way to accomplish the adoption was to make sure I would be financially inclined upon our departure. Before the school year started last year, I had sent my work to an agent. The agent had stated she liked my style, signed with me, and dispersed my poetry to a handful of publishers. But by the time a publisher agreed on me, I had been arrested for the rape of Bria and had been thrown into solitary.

  Turns out, through my time in jail, the publisher had pursued our contract. A proper check had been mailed to the jail, and I’d decided to make a deal with Travis, my only friend from my seven months outside of Dolor. Since he was leaving before me at the time, I’d made him agree to staying away from the gang he had been associated with, the Links, if he’d work for me and bec
ome my assistant.

  I trusted Travis, and he agreed.

  The only thing left to do, other than leave here with a clean record, would be to find a roof for over our heads. Then, I would submit the paperwork for adoption for Zeke. Legally, I’d become his guardian. Zeke was excited about the idea and joked he would start calling me “Dad.”

  I’d told him no fucking way.

  We were mates.

  Mates to always have a home to go back to.

  Amidst it all, Mia had come along, my little plot twist. She only fueled my desire of becoming someone. I’d never wanted anything more than to make something of myself for her. Everything had been perfect. Mia and I had grown closer and closer the same time Mia and Zeke were growing closer. Mia had accepted Zeke with an open heart. The day the storm had passed over Dolor, and Mia held scared Zeke in her arms, it was as if everything had fallen into place. I’d always known, from the first day I met her, she was the one, but that single moment left me in awe of the way God moved his chess pieces across the board, making everything I’d ever wanted within reach.

  The plans for Zeke and I had turned into Zeke, Mia, and I, and not once had I clued her in on my promise to Zeke, or this life I had been planning for the three of us. Mia still has no clue about any of this. Perhaps it was every artist’s fear of rejection—from her, Zeke, the publishing house, the world—and the fear of failure.

  This time, I was a failure.

  I’d failed Mia.

  I’d failed Zeke.

  But here Zeke was, picking up the pieces I destroyed, trying to fix the same future I’d painted then ultimately gave up on. I should have told him, even if he could fix it, it wouldn’t bring Mia back. It wouldn’t bring me back. The rose would be broken, misplaced, and cracked. It would never be the same.

  Even if I did reveal this dirty truth to Zeke, none of it would have mattered.

  I knew him well.

  He’d still be there, piecing the paper rose back together.

  Poor kid.

  I threw the can across the room, and it slid into the can beside his desk, scoring me three useless points. Zeke had made no progression with the paper rose, and he didn’t bother to turn around and face me as I stood behind him. With one hand on his shoulder, I advised him I was leaving and slipped out of my new haven and walked through his wing back to my own.

  It had only been a week since Mia’s Diary was revealed for the school to see. Also, a week since I fucked her for the first time. That night, I’d stayed up as the darkness preyed on my remorse. Grief had gnawed on me, and tears emptied from my eyes until the sun came up. It wasn’t until I wasted away in my shame when the void took over, tired of crying, tired of fighting. The entire week, I’d distanced myself to the world around me, relishing in the quiet and going through the motions.

  Even in the hall when the release of her journal had gone down, people turning against one another, claws coming out, havoc-wreaking, tears pouring, I just couldn’t seem to care anymore. Mia had walked past me, my little explosion of hope, to see all mine had vanished. Perhaps on the outside to everyone else, it had, but my heart still jolted, reminding me it was broken by what was happening to her.

  Because what happened to her happened to me.

  The worst part of caring too much, of feeling too much, of having too much to give, was that eventually you drain from being too much for too long. My fucks to give had a number, and between the medication and my tank depleted, I’d finally landed in the center of the storm out of gas. The place I remember so vividly, and it welcomed me with open arms.

  But as I stood there, Mia rang in my ear like a tiny bell, unwilling to let me go completely.

  Showering that night was a walk in the park. No one talked to me anymore besides Maddie and Bria—Maddie still wanting to jump my bones, and my bone not wanting to jump inside her. Whenever I found myself alone with her, she’d try, but it never led anywhere. The only girl my body seemed to want was Mia.

  My john wouldn’t even take to my own hand.

  I stood under the warm shower with a palm against the tile.

  The room hummed around me, every stall occupied.

  My body was tense, needing to rid myself of the arousal that had been built up since last week. My aching knob stood out in front of me, heavy and angry, and every ounce of blood rushing to its surface. Grabbing it with one palm, it twitched in my hand, confused by the reminder of being in the soft tightness of Mia. I yanked on it, dragging my teeth against my bottom lip to fight off the hiss wanting to leave. My eyes screwed shut, and I selfishly remembered the way Mia felt, her warmth clenching around me, pounding, pulsing. A small groan left me as I fucked my hand, pretending to be inside her.

  But it was no use.

  “Dammit, Mia,” I breathed, releasing my dick and slamming both my palms against the tile.

  Despite the void, every part of me still belonged to her. My head knew it. My heart knew it. My soul knew it. Even my fucking cock knew it. How long would it take for every part to come to a mutual understanding there is no such thing as forever?

  “Times up, Masters,” Scott rang out, and my body went stiff.

  After turning the water off, I swiftly ran the towel over my skin, slid on my boxers, and slipped out of the stall. A few people lingered as Scott impatiently stood beside the door. I’d never needed to compare myself to others, but I couldn’t wrap my brain around this one.

  Mia liked him, possibly even loved him, and I could learn to be okay with that. If he’d be the one to prevent her from flipping her bloody switch again, I’d pat the bloke on the back before my time ran out at Dolor.

  But there were many layers to the bloke standing beside the wall with eyes locked on mine. There was no doubt in my mind, Scott had cruel intentions of being here. Secrets hid behind his façade.

  I flipped on the faucet to brush my teeth when I found my reflection in the mirror.

  Not me.

  Mia.

  She stepped out of her stall and stood there with a towel around her tiny figure. Our eyes linked and my hands hit the counter to hold myself up from the power she still had over me. Her coffee-colored eyes held strong, undisturbed by the distance between us. Her perfect lips parted, wanting to say something. Just spit it out, love. If I had to wrap my fingers around her jaw and exhume them myself …

  “Let’s go,” Scott barked.

  Mia snapped her mouth shut and dropped her towel. She stood stripped and bared. My first instinct was to snatch her up in my arms and remove her from hungry eyes. But then my gaze landed on her fading injuries. Her flawless skin had taken a beating, and my soul went cold. Yellowed patches marked her thighs and hips, and my grip tightened around the edge of the sink as my eyes continued their journey back to her face. “Who did this to you?” I asked, each word pained by the view before me.

  “You did.”

  No. I would never hurt you.

  My head shook the nonsense away, and my eyes jerked in Scott’s direction as he looked at Mia who stood between us. The piece of rubbish had the nerve to look at her while I was in the same fucking room.

  I swooped up her towel, wrapped it around her, and pulled her into me. She didn’t resist. Scott took a step toward me, and I held up a palm in his direction to stop him.

  Mia shook in my grasp, and I couldn’t tell if it was because she was cold or scared of me. I lowered my head into the crook of her neck. “Tell me I didn’t do this,” I whispered out of earshot. My entire being hung on her answer.

  “It wasn’t you,” she cried softly into my chest. “You weren’t yourself.”

  Her words devoured me, shredded me to nothing. Absolute nothing. Chest pains so intense blurred my vision, and I held on to her tighter, digging my head into her neck. She was the only thing that mattered. She had always been the only thing that mattered.

  A fierc
e sting fought its way through, and I pinched the bridge of my nose to control it. “I’m done saying I’m sorry. I’m going to make this right,” I quickly promised before I turned into a wreck in the bathroom. The words couldn’t come out fast enough in the little time we had. “I’ll show you. Please, wait for me. Just stay with me, Mia.”

  “Even when you’re gone?”

  I placed my hands over her face and pulled her away so I could see her as my eyes watered. Fuck, I was about to break. She still had belief—belief in the two of us. Somehow, she understood me. My lips met her forehead, and I breathed in the scent of her and buried it into my memory. “Especially when I’m gone.”

  Releasing her, I pushed my legs through my sweats, grabbed my things, and walked away from her. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Emotions shredded me like a wild beast, ripping me apart. And it fucking hurt. I stopped in front of Scott and clenched my fist from putting it through his skull. “Don’t ever fucking look at her again,” my sick pride warned him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “My first mistake was bringing

  flowers to a gun show.”

  —Oliver Masters

  mia.

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S already the beginning of October,” Dr. Conway rejoiced with a smile on her face. “Halloween is right around the corner, my favorite holiday. Me and Mark sit at the end of our driveway and hand out candy every year. Seeing the little kids … ” she continued to gush as my thoughts transported back to the bathroom where something had changed within Ollie.

  Ollie was fighting. I’d heard it in his voice. I’d seen it in his eyes. I’d felt it radiating from him, and the way he held onto me. One look at me, and he’d broken free from his somberness, ready to whisk me away and pull me from this nightmare. My heart jumped at the thought of him coming back to me. Our love was something to fight for, and Ollie still fought with everything he had.

  Words had been exchanged between Ollie and Ethan before Ollie dipped out of the bathroom days before. Words that had been conveniently soaked up by the distance. But whatever Ollie had said caused Ethan’s demeanor to change when he appeared in my dorm room later that night.