I rolled my head to the right so I could look at him. And I tried very, very hard not to look at the abs he was already sporting at sixteen He stared at the TV, clearly still pissed at me.
“Thanks for tonight, Winnie.”
He rolled against the headboard until his eyes met mine. He didn’t say you’re welcome or anything, only gave me a slow nod before his eyes moved down my body past his black Adidas T-shirt and athletic shorts and then back up again until eventually landing back at my eyes.
We stared at each other like that for a few minutes until his eyes drifted down to my arms where old scars ran up and down them. It looked like I wasn’t the only one thinking of that night so long ago.
I felt the need to reassure him. To make sure he understood I was okay. “You don’t have to worry about me, Oliver. I don’t do that anymore. Haven’t for a long time.”
He nodded again, his face thoughtful. I knew he hadn’t known what they were that night, but I could tell by his face that he had since learned what I’d been doing to myself then.
Placing one of his hands between us next to my arm, he ran a knuckle down one of the scars on there until his hand finally settled up against mine. “Do you want a sweatshirt to wear? I know you don’t like to show them.”
I shook my head. “It’s okay. I’m not ashamed of them. I just don’t like to answer questions about them.”
I looked down at my arm, wondering if he thought I was crazy. I watched as his big hand that was up against mine opened up slowly and covered mine. It was sweet. Him holding my hand. But that was Oliver. The sweetest.
I gripped his back so, so thankful for him. He and Scarlett were so important to me.
“Does Scarlett know?”
My eyes left our hands to meet his green-brown orbs studying me. “About these?” I slightly raised our joined hands, motioning to the scars.
He nodded.
Shaking my head, I answered, “No,” softly. Saying it made me feel guilty. I shared everything with Scar, but I didn’t want to share this with her. It had been an ugly, ugly part of my life. One too awful for my sensitive Scarlett.
He gripped my hand harder. “You should share it with her. She’d want to know. She loves you.”
I gave him a soft smile. “I love her, too. That’s why I don’t share it with her.” I shrugged. “And besides, it’s over. I haven’t done it in a long time. Not since I moved into Pops’s place.”
He nodded like he understood, but his eyes said he didn’t. “She’s your family. She’d want to know.”
“I know. Y’all are like brother and sister to me. I feel so lucky to have found you guys.” I leaned over, wanting to hug my sweet Winnie. He was the best even when he was bossing me around. I laid my head on his chest and wrapped my free hand around his stomach, keeping our joined hands together underneath me.
I lay there, listening to the sound of his heart, feeling something I shouldn’t. Something I knew could possibly ruin two of the best friendships I ever had. It was a niggling feeling that maybe, just maybe, I would have liked something more with Oliver. But I was quick to check myself always when I thought of that. I couldn’t risk our relationship. And I damn sure didn’t deserve someone like him. I deserved one-night stands and random hookups and I liked it that way. No commitments. No chance of ever falling in love. No possibility of being hurt. No one leaving me.
“What if I don’t think of you as a sibling, Hazel? What if I never have? What if I don’t ever want to?” I heard him mumble into the top of my hair.
My breath caught. My stomach somersaulted and I closed my eyes. I could still hear his heart beating beneath my ear. It quickened with every second and I knew it probably scared him to death to say it. It wasn’t like I hadn’t already known how he felt. It was always there in the thousands of ways he showed me all the time. Actions meant so much more than words and Oliver’s actions were bigger than life.
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing at all. I just lay there. It wasn’t like I could say that I’d never thought about it. It wasn’t like I could tell him I didn’t have any feelings for him. Because I didn’t lie to Oliver. Ever.
So when I felt his fingers slip beneath my chin and lift my eyes to his and slowly lower his face to mine, I didn’t say anything. I didn’t say stop, or tell him what a horrible idea this was. No, I wanted this. Now. Later I’d tell him it was because I’d drunk too much or that he was too young to know how he felt for me. But now, I let his nose brush the tip of mine. I felt the quivering intake of his breath against my lips and I closed my eyes and waited, my skin vibrating with awareness.
One, two, three times he brushed the lush softness of his lips across mine. Slowly. Deliberately. Every feathery touch of his mouth against mine like a hot iron to my soul. One, two, three times my breath caught and my heart stuttered. Finally his lips pressed to mine so lovingly, so softly, so damn heartfelt that my nose burned with emotion. He didn’t open his mouth or force his kiss. No, Oliver’s mouth was as effortlessly sweet as him. For seconds that felt both too long and too short he held his mouth to mine and we finally pulled away and he rested his forehead against mine. I felt a tear slip free and slide down my face.
Because all that kiss did was remind me of Oliver’s innate goodness and why I couldn’t have him. He deserved someone a thousand times better than me. Not some fucked-up girl who cut herself. Not some girl who would never amount to much because she’d never been much or had much.
I brought my own hand up to his jaw, cradling it in my hand like the precious thing it was. “Winnie,” I choked out, trying to explain as more tears threatened to spill over and onto my face.
“Shhhhh. It’s okay,” he whispered, pulling me back down onto his chest and laying down in the bed. “Just sleep.” He rubbed my hair and my back and soothed me.
And there he went saving me again. Or maybe this time he was just saving himself.
“Hazelllllllllllll!”
I rolled over in bed and looked at the ceiling. What the hell time was it anyway?
“Hazelllllllllllllllll!”
I wasn’t going to kill him. I loved him too much. That’s what I kept telling myself repeatedly as I rolled over and looked at the clock, realizing it was only 9:00 a.m. and I’d stayed up late playing the game with Gray Wolfe.
“Haaa—”
He started again, but I cut his ass off. I couldn’t listen to it for one more damn second. “Oh my God! I’m coming, Pops! Give it a rest!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
I sat up, feeling like a ton of bricks were stuffed in my head. I went to the bathroom attached to the small bedroom and brushed my teeth, then threw on a sports bra, a sweatshirt, and some leggings, and finally my glasses. I spent two seconds brushing the tangles out of my hair because I didn’t want to keep the crazy old coot I lived with waiting.
I stomped into the kitchen, ready to give him a piece of my mind, when I spotted Amor in the kitchen setting the table, my asshole pops already parked in a chair with a plate in front of him. Next to him sat another plate full of eggs, bacon, and toast and a cup of coffee.
“Morning, Amor.” I leaned over and kissed her wrinkly cheek. She kissed mine back with her ruby, red lipstick lips. There was no doubt in my mind that I had a bright kiss mark right on my cheek.