Page 88 of Bruised

He shrugs. “Mason’s good at getting what he wants, and once he’s gotten what he wants, he gets bored, and it’s not worth so much anymore. End of story.”

“But… I wanted it, too.”

Oliver rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. If you keep talking about how you’ve been doing the nasty with my big brother, I might change my mind about letting you stay.” He pauses to look at me, and I squirm under his gaze. When he speaks again, it’s slowly, with more care. “All I want to know is why. Why did you do it, and why did you keep doing it?”

I let go of my choker and look down at my lap, mumbling the words under my breath. “You’re leaving. And I needed to have someone. I can’t just be alone.”

It sounds like an accusation, and in a way, I guess it is.

Oliver shifts his gaze, a flicker of guilt passing over his face. “I know. I’m sorry.”

I shrug, but my miserable expression says it all. “Don’t be. You have to prioritize your future. I’ll be okay.”

Oliver just looks at me, gaze steady as he asks, “Will you?”

Despite wanting to cry, I force a smile. “Yeah.” I can’t let my feelings show—can’t hold Oliver back from what he wants to do in life. I might not be okay in the strict meaning of the word, but I’ll survive.

“And what about Mason?”

I take a deep breath, shaking my head. “I don’t want him back.”

I sound more sure than I am, but it’s what I feel in the moment. My feelings tend to change depending on how lonely I feel, and Mason was good at making me feel less lonely, but it was all temporary, and some of the things he’s done and said made me feel lonelier than ever. It’s not worth it to risk feeling that way again.

“Then I’ll do a better job at protecting you than I did,” Oliver says. “Do you want me to?”

I inhale a sharp breath, nodding. “Yeah.”

Something tells me I’ll need it when Mason comes back.

I force a few more bites of the pancakes, apologize to Oliver for failing to stomach any more, and go up to his room. There, I unclip the heart-shaped choker and place it back in the velvet box. I think of all the times Mason tugged on it during sex, how pleased he looked when I first showed up to his room wearing it around my neck…

I can’t wear it anymore. When he sees me and notices its absence, it’ll be like an unspoken statement: I’m not yours anymore, so stay away.

Unsure where to put the box, I stuff it into my backpack. I should throw it in the trash along with the butt plug, but the choker is a nice piece of jewelry after all, and as for the butt plug… I can find other uses for it. Solitary ones.

Either way, I’ll hold on to both of them for now. Not because of hope, but as a cautionary keepsake of what happens when I give too much of myself and get nothing in return.

Oliver and I spend the rest of the day gaming and laughing, and finally, it feels like I have my friend back, as if a weight has lifted off me and I can finally be fully myself again, even if my chest still feels hollow and aching.

The unfamiliar absence of the choker leads my hands to my throat now and again, stroking my skin, and further down, to the hickeys that still dot my body. When I go to the bathroom, I press down on them one by one, and try to look forward to when they’ll heal and disappear, even if a secret, forbidden part of me wants them to stay.

30. NO PROMISES

The house is nice and lively when I enter the hallway. A racing game’s on the big-screen TV, and Lane and Oliver are shouting all sorts of gaming jargon I’ve never cared to learn.

I spent the day in Tess’s apartment, trying to work out what I’m going to tell Lane. Or more like trying to work up the courage to even face him. A bit ridiculous, yeah, but I don’t quite feel like myself, and I suspect I won’t feel normal again until I’ve talked to him.

I saunter up to the back of the couch, speaking loudly enough for them to hear. “Having fun, boys?”

Their heads turn as one, and both of them look equally horrified.

“Lane,” Oliver says and pauses the game, jaw tight. “Go to my room.”

Lane gets up from the couch and bolts upstairs, fucking running away from me. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Last night after my talk with Tess, and when I pumped myself up before I came here, I felt hopeful, but now… not so much.

While Lane shuts himself upstairs, Oliver blocks my access to the stairs.

“Hey, come on,” I try, but Oliver shakes his head.