I paused with my backpack slung over my shoulder and tilted my head. “It’s … old.”
Ollie rubbed the hood lovingly and whispered to the car’s side mirror, “Don’t listen to her, darling. She doesn’t mean it.” Rolling my eyes with a smile, I took a step forward as Ollie opened the back door and tossed our bags inside. “You don’t have to come to the prison, Mia. I’ll be fine. I can get you a room, and you can relax for a little bit.” Ollie’s hands moved over my hips, and he pulled me between his spread legs as he fell back against the car. I was exhausted. He was exhausted. But neither one of us let it show. “Oscar was horrible to you. I’m not expecting anything of you.”
Oscar had been horrible to me. He’d drugged me, beat me, almost raped me, but he was Ollie’s brother, and if he needed me at his side, I’d be there because that’s what we did. We were always there for each other no matter what. I lifted my eyes to meet Ollie’s, and his brow peaked, searching my face for an answer. “Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”
Ollie’s dimple appeared, and his fingers tugged on the bottom hem of the hoodie I was wearing over my dress until I was flush against him. Not the best fashion sense, but I’d never been into fashion. “Get out of these clothes,” he whispered. “Take a proper bubble bath, order room service, get well rested. That’s what I want you to do.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do.”
It killed me to drop off Mia at theHoliday Inn, but it wasn’t safe for her to be there, especially if the Links were watching. Dex Sullivan didn’t get to lay his eyes on Mia unless I permitted him to, and I knew he was somewhere, watching. Dex knew I’d come.
I didn’t have time to change, still wearing the white button-down shirt and slacks and a tiredness weighing heavy in my eyes. The heated car idled in the car park of High Down Prison, windows fogging as I waited to muster enough courage to leave the cabin of the station wagon. Rain beat over the hood, and a slew of black umbrellas marched across the lawn off in the distance, following a casket.
My fingers curled around the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. I had the means to claim Oscar’s body and give him a proper burial at a cemetery, but he’d made his bed, it was time he’d slept in it. Once upon a time, Oscar had saved me from my mum. He looked out for me, protected me. And if it weren’t for him, I’d probably be dead. For that, I owed him my presence and closure.
I cut the engine, withdrew from the warm space of the car, and walked toward the huddled circle in the isolated burial ground of the prison. I stood off to the side. Rain dripped from the ends of my hair, down the bridge of my nose, and off my lashes. The white dress shirt clung to my cold skin, and I kept my head down as the priest spoke a few words, his voice drowned out by the rain.
The majority of the people who stood around the gravesite paid by the country were that of High Down employees and guards, but when the priest dismissed everyone, I caught a glimpse of raggedy blonde hair spilling from under a tilted umbrella. The woman was being consoled by, none other than, Dex Sullivan.
I tore my eyes away and commanded my feet to move, but they were cemented to the soggy ground as the two approached.
“Oliver,” she stated, surprised.
I looked up and squinted through the rain. “Mum.”
Black irises stared back at me, laying in the center of puffiness, bleakness, and redness. The years haven’t been good to her, and her twitching fingers clung to Dex’s trench coat as a source of stability.
“How dare you show up here,” she spat, the frayed ends of her damaged hair flying against the wind. She seemed so small against Dex, who remained quiet at her side with a deceiving frown marring his face. “You have a lot of nerve.”
“Nice to see you too, Mum.”
“Don’t you do that. Don’t pretend like I didn’t just bury my son,” she gritted through clenched teeth and tears. Dex slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to his side. I flexed my jaw at how easily she rested against the man who helped conspire Oscar’s death. Dex was probably still fucking her too, anything to get under my skin. “You know, that should’ve been you. I wished it was you, Oliver,” she cried out, mourning the loss of her firstborn. The one she’d understood. The one she could relate to—the son who was just as sick as her and didn’t make her feel bad about it.
“We both know I’m already dead to you. Let’s not rip open old wounds.” Telling my mum that Dex was the one who had Oscar killed wouldn’t have done me any favors. She wouldn’t have believed me. And Dex wouldn’t have told mum about White Fox either. He wouldn’t have told anyone. Dex wanted all the money for himself. And as soon as I could find a way to get him the money, I’d be done with all of this.
“Come on, Becky,” Dex curled his fingers into her waist and steered her away, “you don’t deserve to listen to this nonsense.”
The two walked away, leaving me soaked and shivering in the cold rain. A tear slipped from my eye as the little boy in me watched his mum go. I’d spent years loving her blindly, even after the multiple attempts on my life. I’d be a liar if I said I never starved for my mum’s love, or that it didn’t kill me to watch her slip down the rabbit hole of addiction and her illness. I’d read many books, kept track of her symptoms growing up. It had all lead to a form of dissociative identity disorder, though she’d never listened to me or cared to seek help. Her only refuge had been a proper hit of heroin.
Back in the station wagon, I beat my fist into the steering wheel, over and over before turning the engine and backing out. A few miles passed when my eyes moved from the windshield to the rearview mirror, and I spotted a car following too close behind. I pulled off the street to let them pass, but they didn’t. They pulled up behind me as another car passed by and parked in front of the station wagon, blocking me in. I got out, rain beating over my back, coming down hard, and threw my hands up in the air as I walked toward the car parked behind me. Two men got out, and I shouted curses against the thunderstorm brewing above.
One of them was Dex, and his lips moved, “Get him.”
A force struck my head from behind, and I dropped to the ground, the gravel embedding into the side of my face. I tried to get to my feet when a boot kicked me in the stomach, stealing all the air from my lungs. My eyes squinted against the ice-cold rain, and I grabbed an ankle, tearing the bloke from a standing position, putting him on his arse before climbing over him. Before I could throw my first punch, I was struck again against my spine, temporarily disabling me.
“I warned you, Oliver,” Dex shouted against the roaring Thunder. I pulled myself up on all fours, trying to get back to my feet. When I lifted my head, lightning lit up the sky, illuminating Dex’s vicious grin. A kick to my stomach flipped me over, and my back hit the curb. Then more blows and punches hammered over me. Two or three men, and no matter which way I turned, I couldn’t get out from the bottom.
Eventually, they left. I’d heard the cars peel from the side of the road, gravel flying and hitting my face, but couldn’t move. I laid there in the frostbite under the raging storm, bleeding, shivering, and frozen. And my gaze fixed as blood trickled from my mouth and ran along the currents between pebbles, the rain washing it away.
I don’t remember how I’d gotten back to the hotel, but it was nothing short of a miracle—a saving grace.
“Oh-my-god,” Mia cried, scurrying from under a throw blanket over the couch of the hotel room as I stood in a daze in the doorway, dripping water and blood. Tears gathered in her eyes as she touched my mouth. I turned my head away from her, hating her to see me like this. I couldn’t protect myself. How was I supposed to protect her? Her voice and hands were panicked as she unbuttoned my shirt with a pained look in her expression, tears helplessly falling from her brown eyes. “I have to get you out of these clothes. You’re shaking. You’ll get sick.” She made fast work at the buttons before peeling the shirt from around my shoulders. Her hands were hot against my quivering flesh. “Let me take you to the hospital. You need to go to the hospital.”
I snatched her wrist. “No, Mia. You can’t.” They’d ask questions, file a police report.
“They could’ve killed you!” she cried out.
“Dex won’t kill me. Not until he gets his money.” I winced and clutched my ribcage, my entire body sore, trembling from the cold, and bruised from the inside out.
