Marcus frowned skeptically. He kept looking between them, like he might have missed something.
“Alright then, just holler, and we’ll be there,” he finally said, as if giving up on figuring out the real story about what was going on with Oliver and Aberlour, and this new mystery girl.
“Cool,” Oliver said. “You’ll like her. She’s nice.”
Aberlour didn’t comment. He dropped to the floor and started doing push-ups. He refused to look up, afraid to let anyone see how he really felt. He just kept going up and down, gritting his teeth against the pain as it became almost unbearable. By the time he recovered and sat up, Oliver had moved on to another exercise, and the room was back to business. No more was said about girlfriends and meetings, and yet Aberlour could feel the time for avoidance had passed. The dust from Oliver’s announcement had settled. The explosion no longer rocked him to his very core; instead, his rattled bones now felt hollow and void. He needed—something. A clear mind. A confrontation. One last look at Oliver’s blue gaze before he gave it all up.
The thought tasted bitter in his mouth. Giving it up. He’d never voluntarily given up anything, and now—now he had to let go of the one thing that meant the most to him? He felt sick at heart in a way he couldn’t even begin to describe.
He confronted Oliver that same afternoon. Desperation and anger pushed the words out.
“This is what you want?” Aberlour asked, knowing better than to ask, but feeling as if he had no choice, despite his awareness of failing to stand his ground.
This wasn’t really the right place to hold this kind of conversation. They were cleaning their guns, and any of the others could walk in, but Aberlour had endured this dead weight setting on his chest for hours, and it was killing him, bit by bit.
“No,” Oliver admitted, turning to look at Abe. It was hard to see him these days. The real him. The one who’d held Aberlour’s hand and talked about houses and children. He’d disappeared behind a mask of stoicism that Abe hadn’t known he was capable of. “But I have to.” He gave a helpless shrug.
Aberlour bit back his anger. If he lost it, Oli would shut down, and they’d go their separate ways again. He’d be just as confused and worried. Nothing would change. He needed to know what the fuck was going on, and that meant he had to keep control of himself.
“Why? What changed?”
Oliver put down the M4 he was cleaning and turned to Aberlour. He looked tired and rough from lack of sleep.
“My mother’s running for Congress. She needs help, and my brother—my brother fucked up, and it looks bad for the family. She’s convinced this congressional leader to sponsor her, but only if one of her sons dated his daughter. He wants his daughter to be linked with a prominent Alabama family so she can also run her own campaign in the future. She just finished law school.”
Oliver’s story was disjointed, so Aberlour had trouble putting all the pieces together. He couldn’t help but notice that Oliver’s shoulders drooped, most likely from all that family pressure on them. Aberlour struggled to empathize. It all sounded like a load of horseshit and, basically, a form of blackmail. He didn’t care two cents for either one.
He’d heard this story before, of course. Though Oli hadn’t looked quite so downtrodden then. He’d been casual, almost offhanded, as he’d told Aberlour this little fucked up plan that his mother had cooked up while they lay together in bed. At least now, Oliver looked—truly regretful when re-telling it.
“Whatever happened to refusing to follow the plan your parents made for you?” Aberlour fought to project a calm he was far from feeling. He wanted to explode. Wanted to shoot Oli’s mom. Wanted to have a fucking fit, but it wouldn’t get them anywhere. So, he took a deep breath and waited for Oliver’s response to his question.
“I’m not,” Oliver said. “I’m just—” he sighed and shook his head. “I’m doing them a favour.”
Aberlour could tell he genuinely believed what he just said.
“A favour,” Aberlour repeatedly flatly, trying not to sound bitter but failing terribly. “And where and how does this favour end? Are you going to marry her? Have kids? Is that—” he stopped to take a steadying breath, but his heart was hammering against his rib cage. It wanted out. Want to be exposed for Oli to see. Maybe then, Oli could fully understand exactly how much damage he’d done to Aberlour. “Is that part of the favour?” he asked, daring to meet Oliver’s eyes for the first time.
Oli’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, unable to speak for a moment. He looked away from Aberlour as he said, “No. I won’t—they wouldn’t ask that.”
Aberlour nearly laughed. Very nearly, but he swallowed his mockery and nodded slowly, looking everywhere but at Oli, feeling like his chest was about to explode and his heart burst from the pain.
“It doesn’t have to change anything between us,” Oli rushed to add. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. We canstill—” he paused, and gestured between them, as though unable to say the word.
Aberlour stared coldly and scoffed.
“Fuck?” Abe supplied, because apparently Oliver was incapable of saying it. He’d asked Aberlour for it. Had made plans for them both. Played house and poker with Abe’s heart, and now he couldn’t even say it.
“Right,” Oliver agreed with a quick glance at the door.
Aberlour’s gaze dropped to Oliver’s hands. It was hard to make sense of the past few weeks. Hard to understand how the man who’d once held his hand and confidently asked him where they would live and how many children they would have, could now barely stand to look him in the eye.
It was such a strange turn of events.
“Is that all it was?” Aberlour asked, directly challenging Oliver.
There were two possibilities. Aberlour knew what he wanted the answer to be. Oli could lie, or he could tell the truth. It had never occurred to Abe before that Oli might lie, but looking at him now, hesitating to respond, Abe wasn’t sure of anything. Not anymore.
“No,” Oliver admitted, staring at the floor. “Of course not,” he added, with a sigh that made it sound like perhaps he wished ithadbeen nothing more.
