I’d asked myself that question a lot.
And the answer was...complicated.
I would’ve spared his life if it meant I didn’t have to let Olive down by going to jail.
I would’ve still killed him because he deserved to know what those girls felt as he watched them fade into death.
There was no right or wrong answer.
Unlike now.
It was wrong to go to O’s. Wrong to encroach on her space. Wrong to not honour her wish to end things permanently between us.
But what other choice do you have?
“Come on, Popeye.” Olive pulled her hand from mine, skipping after Justin as he continued stomping through the warehouse to the pedestrian access. “Time to go see, O.”
* * * * *
“O!” Olive bowled through the door the moment it cracked open. “Hi! Yay, I’m so happy to see you. Did you get my notes? Did Justin give you my drawings?” She squished her face into O’s chest, hugging her fiercely. “I missed you!”
O froze in almost comical shock. Unprepared for a hurricane to smother her with conversation and cuddles. Her eyes met mine, then skated away almost immediately. “Hi, Justin. Hi, Gil.”
“Olin.” I nodded.
The moment polite greetings were done, O dropped her arms and squeezed Olive back with just as much affection. “Hi, little Olive Pip. Man, I swear you’ve grown since I last saw you.” She pressed her hand on Olive’s glossy dark hair. “Yep, you’ve definitely sprouted another inch at least.”
Olive Pip?
O had given my daughter a nickname?
Yet another fist reached into my chest and punched a bigger hole into my heart. If I wasn’t careful, the hole would soon be big enough to bleed me dry.
Olive snickered. “Probably been eating too much spinach. Dad makes sure we eat lots of veggies.”
“That’ll do it for sure. You’ll be taller than him soon.”
“Eww, no.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to be that tall. I want to be dainty, like you.” Looking past her, she asked, “Can we come in? We don’t have much stuff. We promise not to take up too much room.”
O backed up, welcoming us. “Of course. Come in. It seems my home is now your home.”
“Only for tonight.” I cleared my throat. “I won’t put you out any longer than that.”
O nodded. “One night, one week. It’s fine.” Her smile was genuine, but her eyes remained guarded. She’d returned to the sympathetic sweet friend who always put others first. No sign of the explosive heat from the week before. No hint of the heart-breaking farewell.
Goddammit, the agony was more than I could bear.
My back prickled as Justin practically shoved me inside, moving to give O a kiss on the cheek. “Olin. You’re looking gorgeous as always.” He winked, making her chuckle.
“Yeah, jeans and old t-shirt totally deserve compliments like that.”
“They do if they fit you that well.”
“If you like them so much, you wear them. Let’s see if the t-shirt becomes a bra on you or a crop top.”
Justin laughed. “God, no one wants to see that.”
“Seriously, no one.” O smiled.
Their friendship was no longer stilted with history but smooth with familiarity.
For the first time, I wondered.
Wondered if Justin still had feelings for O. If O still had feelings for him.
I shut those thoughts off straight away. There was only so much torture I could tolerate.
“Come in. Come in.” O backed up, catching my eye again with a hurried glance. The second we locked gazes, the world faded, noise silenced, and that damn connection that would destroy me until my dying day hissed like wildfire.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the girl I’d loved since I was a teenager. I couldn’t stop looking at the smudges under her pretty hazel eyes or the tense strain I’d put there. The strain of being a good friend while never wanting to see me again.
Justin pushed past, breaking our moment.
I followed, lugging in the two duffels of paint and work equipment. O’s apartment wasn’t exactly big enough to expect her to store my shit as well as put us up as house guests, but I couldn’t exist without the ability to paint.
Just like when I was younger, it was the only thing that cured me of the constant chatter in my head. The worries, the guesses, the failures.
Moving forward, my arm brushed against O’s.
She stiffened and backed away. That slight movement was as sharp and as deadly as a blade to my chest. My shoulders sank. “Can’t get rid of me, huh.”
“Seems as though destiny has other plans.”
“Destiny can take a hike. She only seems to screw things up.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Or it’s just us who does the screwing.”
My heart pounded the longer we stared. Images of screwing her in her kitchen exploded in my mind. It’d happened so fast. It’d been explosive and raw. It’d also been the last time I would ever be with her.
She blushed, no doubt thinking the same thing as me. “Anyway...like I said, it’s fine for you guys to stay.” She closed and locked the door.
Ignoring my heated stare, she moved forward, pointing at the new additions in her small space. “Gil, you’ll have the couch. It’s not much, but I bought a new pillow and washed the blankets. Olive, you’ll have the blow-up mattress behind the couch. Again, it’s not much, but I got you a cute flower comforter and hot water bottle in case you’re cold.” She sighed, shrugging. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you your own rooms. It’s frustratingly small this place.”
Olive zoomed to the mattress behind the couch. Back there she had privacy and her own little world.
“You kidding? This is awesome!” Olive threw herself on the air mattress, only to bounce far higher than I expected. “Wow, it’s like a trampoline.”
Justin chuckled. “I don’t think the manufacturers were going for that. But hey...looks fun.”
“It’s better than any of the hard bunk beds in Jeffrey’s nasty caravan.” Olive sat cross-legged in contentment. “Thank you so much, O.”
“You’re very welcome.”
I cleared my throat. “Seriously, Olin. This is better than any five-star hotel. You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”
She smiled self-consciously. “It’s not luxury, but that’s nice of you to say.”
Our eyes locked all over again, imprisoning each other—two elements that always joined whenever close.
I couldn’t break the spell, and neither could she.
Justin cleared his throat. “Look, I...eh, I’m gonna get going. Have to go back to the office. You guys all good?”
Shivering at the overwhelming need to touch O—to pull her into me and drop down all my barriers, I forced myself to look at my friend. A friend who sometimes I wanted to kill but a friend I trusted to look after my daughter when I couldn’t.
“Thanks, Miller.” I held out my hand. “Thanks for the lift over here and for arranging this.”
O came closer, smiling gently. “You’re a good man, Justin Miller.”
Justin actually blushed, backing toward the door as if he couldn’t wait to run from honest compliments. “Just don’t kill each other, okay?” He pinned me with a stare. “I’ll call tomorrow. Maybe you guys should go out for dinner. The three of you. Celebrate your new living arrangements.”
Any tender thoughts toward him evaporated.
Dinner?
Fuck, I would rather inject myself with succinylcholine than go out for dinner. To a restaurant with the woman I loved and the daughter I’d do anything to protect. To eat food that O would have to pay for because I couldn’t afford it.
No way.
No fucking way.
O deserved so, so much. I owed far too much to ever pay back.
I wouldn’t add yet more debt to my pile of worthlessness.
My pride was bruised.
My ego destroyed.
If I let O pay for dinner—when I knew how tight her own finances were—I’d never forgive myself.
And I couldn’t go out anyway.
The move here had been cleared with the police, but that was as far as my new boundaries went according to my anklet.
“That won’t be necessary. I brought the rest of my groceries. I’ll cook something,” I muttered. I couldn’t take her out, but I could at least prepare something. “A tiny thank you for having us.”
“Sure, that sounds nice.” She gave me a wary smile. “Appreciate it.”
“Dad makes a yummy pasta,” Olive piped up from the bouncy bed, her hands already rummaging in her backpack for crayons and paper.
O grinned, forcing lightness into her face when only heaviness existed between us. “Look forward to it then.”
My thoughts tripped backward to a time when O had made me lunch. When she’d pulled me into her house and made me fall head over heels for her.
Pancakes and syrup.
We’d vowed to be each other’s family.
I doubted a simple bolognese could reinstate family bonds that were long gone.
“Okay, guys, have fun playing happy families.” Justin waved, opening the door. “See ya soon.”
The door closed.
The apartment seemed to shrink around us.
O made an excuse to disappear into her bedroom.
And I stood like an idiot in her living room, so fucking aware of everything that I’d lost.
Chapter Twenty
______________________________
Gil
I COULDN’T SLEEP.
The ceiling offered no salvation from reliving the most awkward evening of my life.
I’d cooked in O’s tiny kitchen while Olive and her played scrabble at the coffee table.
We’d eaten in relative ease, both of us using Olive as the ice breaker. Talking to her instead of each other, overly attentive to her every need.
O’s smiles had been reserved and her voice measured whenever she’d had to speak to me directly. Her eyes hid so many things. She was angry with me. Annoyed. Pissed off. All of the above. So many painful things bubbled beneath the surface, and the longer we spent together, the more the tension increased.
I shook while doing the dishes.
I fought with ways of ending this nightmarish situation.
But then, O retired early with the excuse of a headache, and Olive and I stayed up a little longer watching TV on low.
By the time Olive passed out on her mattress and I slipped beneath the blankets on the couch, my entire system felt jacked up and on edge.
We needed to talk.
O and me.
Truly, really talk.
No sex.
No swearing.
Just frank conversation that might have some chance at clearing the air.
But O had made it obvious she wasn’t open to speaking.
That she’d pulled away from me—accepting my presence while waiting until I was out of her life for good. She didn’t need to tell me she’d locked her heart to me.
I felt it.
I felt the emptiness when she looked at me.
I tasted the sourness of obligation.
This was goodbye in a terribly drawn-out way.
Checking my phone, I cursed under my breath.
Two a.m. and I was fucking wired.
I couldn’t stay here.
I needed to expel some of my tension before I marched into O’s bedroom and demanded she listen to me. Listen to my apologies, explanations, and every dark, dirty confession I’d collected over the years.
Hauling my arse from the covers—ignoring the stiffness and new bruises from being beaten up a few days ago—I pulled on a pair of tatty jeans and t-shirt from my packed duffel. The one saving grace of having to sell off your possessions for blackmail meant when you got kicked out of home you didn’t have much to pack. Another blessing in disguise was being kicked out of the place where angry society knew you lived and planned an attack when you stepped out the damn door.
Even if we hadn’t been evicted, Olive wouldn’t have been safe to stay there.
Because of me.
It’s always because of fucking me.
At least thanks to the punishment I’d received, the police had approved my address change. Allowing me to travel and stay at O’s without revoking my bail.
Checking on Olive and finding her fast asleep, I slipped from the door and jogged down the communal stairs.
With the stars and crescent moon for company, I stood outside O’s building and watched night turn to dawn.
I couldn’t walk away because of my anklet.
I couldn’t prowl the alleyways and find salvation in graffiti.
I couldn’t head back inside and slip into O’s bed and delete this awfulness between us.
All I could do was watch the world wake up and count down the moments I had left.
Chapter Twenty-One
______________________________
Olin
“OH, WOW, I love that.”
I spun around, holding the towel tighter around myself. Olive stood in my doorway; her gaze transfixed on my tattoo-covered scars.
I’d just had a shower after being unable to sleep. Dawn crested ten minutes ago and I figured I’d get ready for work early, so I could sneak out and not have to deal with Gil this morning.
However, when I’d tiptoed to the bathroom, there’d been no sign of him sleeping on the couch. Olive had been tucked up in bed, but I guessed the creaky pipes and running water had woken her.
I shivered a little as my damp hair clung to my shoulders. I craved clothing for both protection and warmth, but Olive drifted into my room, her hand up as if to touch my back.
Turning to face her, I said gently, “You should still be sleeping.”
“I woke up and I’m not tired anymore.” She skirted around me, looking at my ink again. “That’s so cool. Is it a tattoo? It doesn’t look real.”
I caught a glimpse of what she saw in my wardrobe mirror. The huge geometric owl bleeding into realism. The many animals beginning with O hidden in its feathers. “Yes, it’s a tattoo. And no, you can’t have one.” I laughed. “I don’t think Gil would ever forgive me if I’m the reason you get ink before you’re eighteen.”
Her nose wrinkled. “It’s my body. I can draw on it if I want.”
“Your dad called it scribbling when he first saw it.”
“It’s not scribbling. It’s amazing!” Her tiny hand reached out, stroking the ridges and ugliness of my patched together wounds. “Did it hurt?”
I guessed she asked about the ink rather than the injury hidden beneath. Unless you knew what to look for, the tattoo did what I intended and camouflaged the mess.
Striding away, I turned my back on her and pulled on a sports bra and black blouse. “No, it wasn’t too bad.”
“Do you have any more?”
“No.” Feeling strange dressing in front of her, I stepped into a pair of knickers before dropping my towel and wriggling into a skirt. “That piece is enough.”
And you can’t tattoo over emotional wounds, so I’ll just have to cope.
Making my way to my small dressing table by the window, I grabbed my hairbrush. Olive followed me, her cute hummingbird pyjamas revealing Gil didn’t worry about masculinity when he obviously doted and bought his daughter the most girlish, prettiest things.
“Are you going somewhere?” Her happiness level dropped. “Can I come?”
Quickly taming my dark blonde hair, I smiled. “I have to go to work. Believe me, you don’t want to come. It’s boring being in an office all day.”
“But you didn’t work when I stayed here with you last time. It was so awesome spending the entire day with you.” She leapt onto my bed. “I wanted to go to that park again and the library and that place you took me to that sells those yummy muffins.”
Adding a lashing of mascara and some peach lip-gloss, I looked at he
r in the mirror. “I’d love that too, but I need to work to pay the bills. Being an adult sucks sometimes.” Placing my makeup down, I spun to face her. “But you don’t need to spend the day with me. You have your dad. You guys will have a great day together. Maybe paint or—”
“He won’t have time. He’s trying to get work too.” She pouted, plucking at my bedspread. “I want him to paint those women canvases again instead of being stressed about money. At least at the warehouse, I could watch him work. I helped him clean up when I wasn’t at school.”
“Do you miss school?”
She shrugged. “Kinda. But not really ’cause I missed my dad more and all my friends won’t care about me anymore.”
“They will care.” I sat on my haunches in front of her, grabbing her ankles as she kicked her legs off the edge of my bed. “They’ll have missed going to school with you.”
“But I won’t even be with them in class. Won’t I be held back a year? Seeing as Uncle Jeffrey kept me out of school for so long?”
Damn.
Gil had been held back because a teacher had her own diabolical reasons.
Olive might be held back because of her uncle’s.
Life truly isn’t fair.
“Maybe you can be in the same grade and just have some extra coaching at home, so you can catch up fast. I’m guessing you’re a very fast learner.”
She perked up. “I am. I love books and things. I don’t want to be with younger kids.”
“Okay then, well if we enrol you back in school, I’ll do my best to find you a good tutor.”
We enrol you?
What are you saying, O?
You can’t promise such things. You won’t be in her life. You’re leaving, remember?
“Could you teach me?” Her grey eyes searched mine. “That would be so much fun.”
Standing, I shook my head. “I don’t know enough to teach you, Olive Pip, but I have no doubt you’ll be the smartest girl in class.”
The front door opened and closed, wrenching both our attentions to it.
Gil appeared in the living room, his eyes catching mine and then Olive’s. Lines etched around his mouth, and his hair was once again messy from being outside, but he looked calmer than last night.
The Finished Masterpiece (Master of Trickery Book 3) Page 61
