Page 89 of Bruised

“He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I thought I told you this a while ago,” I grumble.

“Told me what?”

“To let him make his own decisions.”

“Not if those decisions end up with you luring him back in and breaking his heart again.”

Breaking his heart? Regrettably, I guess that’s true.

“I won’t do anything to him. Look, you can even join us.” I make a move toward the stairs, but Oliver pushes me away.

“No thanks. I know what you’ll do to him if given the chance.”

“Isn’t it time you got some action?” I ask, treading stormy fucking waters, I know.

His eyes darken. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe that you’re nineteen, and as far as I know, you haven’t dipped your dick into anything other than the slime Logan got you for your eleventh birthday.”

His eyes flash with anger. “Fuck you. At least I don’t fuck everything that moves.”

“Want it to be special? Well, unfortunately he’s not coming back.”

Oliver’s eyes narrow. “Who?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about.” I glance over at the family photo above the TV, the one Oliver insists on keeping there even though Mom hates it.

“What—Logan?” Oliver throws his head back in a laugh. “You know I was like thirteen, right?”

I shrug. “Keep denying it. It’s fucking obvious, though, with the way you’re acting.”

“The way I’m acting?” He gawks. “Which is how?”

“The cooking.”

“The cooking?”

“And the degree.”

“The degree? But that’s⁠—”

“His idea, isn’t it? He always went on and on about how smart and capable you were. How you’d go far as long as you didn’t give up. Engineering is the sort of thing he’d approve of.”

“That’s a fucking reach.”

“Is it?”

Oliver glares daggers at me. “You don’t even care that he left, so what’s it to you?”

“Is that what you think?” I ask bitterly.

Oliver’s eyes widen, his shoulders slump, and for a moment, I see the ghost of what used to be my little brother. Unguarded, sweet, always smiling.

Logan was our stepdad, sure, and I liked him too, but Oliver was borderline obsessed with him. Tailing him wherever he went, hanging out with him in the garage, always craving his presence.

Logan taught him how to cook, how to use tools, and all about vintage car shit. He might have gotten me started on my Transformers hobby, but Oliver was his favorite, and needless to say, Logan was Oliver’s favorite. Even when he was older and should’ve been hanging out with friends instead, Oliver helped him with boring stuff like grocery shopping and mowing the lawn.