“I’m likehim, January.”
“Yourfather? You’re nothing like him!”
He scoffed, his eyes blazing. “Do you think this is the first time I did that?” He gestured with his arm in the direction Jamie had left. “I hit someone last week, too. Almost hit. I was ready to pummel my fist right into his face. I wanted to. Had him pinned to a wall, just like now.”
“But you didn’t, and you didn’tnow.”
“I have an assault charge hanging there, too. Trust me, January, you don’t want anything to do with me.” His voice at that last sentence was entreating me to believe him, to agree with him.
“That’s not true.”
That one punch, and everything it represented, that he hadn’t taken out on his father, had erupted from him all his life in other ways.
“I was arrested once. Bar fight. Years ago. The guy ended up dropping the charges, and I paid a fine. My lawyer made sure the record wouldn’t hold. You patted someone on the head with a cardboard sign, and your life was ruined. I broke someone’s rib and got mine fractured in return, but my life wasn’t ruined.”
Not by that.
I took yet another step forward. We were mere inches apart. “Oliver—”
“Wait. There’s more. That’s when I was arrested, but before that, for a few years after I left here, I either looked to beat someone up or fuck someone. Sometimes on the same night, I did both. Got into a bar fight then fucked the first woman who seemed interested in the mess that I was.”
He was doing his best again to shock me, push me away.
We stared at each other, both breathing as if we’d been in a fight. He wanted me to see his mess and run. But if he was a speeding freight train, then I was a tunnel, not a wall.
My tone was as fierce as his when I said, “But you don’t do that anymore. Because that’snotwho you are.”
“Only because I put a lid on it and melded it shut over all that rage, all that hate—”
“All that love.” This time,Icut him off.
Oliver stared at me with those eyes. He was a volcano, thinking the hard, cold crust was locking in the rage. But there was an enormous amount of love in him with no address, nowhere to erupt.
“I’m like him, can’t you see that?” he implored again.
“Your father preyed on the weak—children, financially weaker people and companies. You’re the opposite in all of it. You save companies and people and their dreams. You save kids, you savedmykids. I know about the scholarships, Oliver.”
“Yeah, I’m great at writing checks,” he said over a bitter scoff. He then took a step forward, as if to drive his point further. “I know what you’re trying to do. You can’t fix me, January. Some things are beyond fixing. Some things are notworthfixing.”
I held his gaze. “Do you love me, Oliver?”
He expelled a breath. I had caught him off-guard.
“I want to help you, January. If you let me.”
“Do youloveme, Oliver?” I stressed the words. “Because I’m not scared of your rage. Not for me, not for anyone else. Not Jamie or whoever it was last week. I’m scared of it foryou.” I took a deep breath. “You’re not like him. You took that rage and hate and turned it againstyourself. There’s no one else to do it to you, so you’re doing this to yourself. And you’re doing such a great job at it that you left no room for love. Not for yourself and not for anyone else.” My throat stung from the effort, my mouth went dry. “You grew up believing you’re not worthy of love, that no one can love you, but guess what? That Blanche woman who was here? She loves you. My mother loves you.Ilove you. I love you with all my heart, and I always have.” I took another step and was in his face now. “So, I ask you again, Oliver. Do you love me?”
I could see the struggle on his face.
“I once told you that you were everything,” I expelled. Raising my voice an octave, I added, “And you didn’t believe me.”
“How could I?” He raised his own voice in return. “Youare, January.You’reeverything. You’re worth everything, you deserve everything, youareeverything! I loved you without even knowing what love was.Youdefine love for me.”
Tears filling my throat and eyes, I placed a hand on the left side of his chest.
“So, for what it’s worth, January, I love you,” he rasped.
Tears overflowing, I reached up and held both sides of his neck between my hands. He had to know he was everything. “For what it’s worth? You’re still everything, Oliver. It’s worth everything to me,” I managed to half-whisper, my face an inch from his.
