I mentally counted until the burn subsided and my heart maintained a steady rhythm.
Then I opened my eyes.
Ollie’s words ran together before they came to a complete stop.
He looked at me.
I crossed my arms over my chest and looked down at our feet. “Pick it up.”
“Mia?” Ollie’s chest heaved and he snapped his brows together.
“The rose,” I kicked the paper at our feet, “pick up the rose.”
Ollie hesitantly bent down and scooped up the rose before returning his eyes to me. His expression remained confused as he tried to read me. But I’d turned unreachable. Hollow. I’d figured it out, and he could no longer hurt me with my mask on.
I had done this for him. It was the only way to get through to him.
“Now tear it up.”
“No,” he whispered. “Don’t do this.”
“Tear it up, Ollie!” I screamed, and Ollie slammed his eyes shut. My tone dripped with anger and my body shook in its wake, but I kept the lights off in my eyes. I had to keep them off. Slowly, Ollie tore the rose up as each piece floated to our feet. Once the last piece landed on my boot, I snapped my eyes back to him. “Now, say you’re sorry.”
“Mia, please. You’re not making any sense.” He reached out to me, but I took a step back.
“You love the word so much, what’s the hold up now?”
He dropped his arms to the side. “I’m sorry!”
“Not to me, to the rose.”
Ollie dropped his chin and stretched his arms out to the side. “I’m fucking sorry,” he looked back up at me, “Better?”
I looked down; the rose still in pieces at our feet. With my foot, I kicked the pieces around. “Nope still broken. Looks like ‘sorry’ didn’t do shit. That’s me,”—I pointed to the pieces— “that’s my fucking heart, and your apology isn’t going to mend or heal your mistakes anymore. Your ‘sorry’ doesn’t piece back what you’ve broken. And this time, it was us you broke. For good.”
The realization hit him, and he dug both palms into his eyes as he took a step back. “Mia, you’re wrong about this. You’re so wrong … you don’t understand,” he fell to his knees, “I can fix this. I can fix us … we’re going to get through because we’re supposed to be together … ” Ollie continued to mumble through tears as he picked up the pieces at my feet. “I couldn’t go through with it. Nothing would let me … I’m going to make this right.”
I took a step back, and I finally had Ollie right where I wanted him—crawling on his knees, begging. His long fingers gripped my thighs, refusing to allow me to move as he dug his face between my legs, continuing to mumble incoherent promises and apologies.
“Stay in hell, Ollie.” I jerked back, causing him to land on his palms. “You’re nothing to me.”
Power. Love was power. But by being dominated by love can bring out the best and the worst in people, a back and forth game of tag to make sure you’re not the one left powerless. You can mark that as my worst moment—purposely hurting the only person I ever loved just to prove a point. Yes, I wanted to hurt him, but only to bring him back.
This had to work.
With one foot in front of the other, I blinked my lights back on successfully.
Ollie called out my name. The burn returned and the tears finally fell from the corner of my eyes.
Come back tome, Ollie.
Chapter Eleven
“Evencold-heartedbeasts
have a warm touch.”
—Oliver Masters
