17. Lexie

Chapter 17

Lexie

I woke up early the next morning for my shift at the grocery store, knowing I was going to have a long day. This was a day where I worked a double shift—eight to four at the store, then six to close at the bar.

I made sure to pack granola bars and some electrolyte water, not wanting my sugar to drop in the middle of work. I also ate a good breakfast—whole wheat toast with eggs and a side of sausage I found in the freezer. It was a bit freezer burnt but it would do the trick.

I walked out to the mailbox, but it was just a bunch of junk mail.

"Hey!" a small voice called out.

I frowned, peering with my hand covering my eyes from the sun. "Who's there?"

"A troll under the bridge," the voice giggled, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"There's no bridge! You're homeless!" I exclaimed.

"Nooo," the voice wailed, and soon Trent came into view, his sandy hair mussed from playing in the grass .

"You must be Trent," I said, and the little boy smiled brightly at me, his teeth small and straight.

"That's me," he said proudly, pointing to himself with his thumb. He tilted his head, staring at me. "Who are you?"

"My name is Lex," I said. "I'm a friend of your dad's."

"My dad doesn't have any friends," he said flatly, and I chuckled.

"Well, he's got me. We're old friends, from before you were born."

"Dad had friends before I was born?" he asked, walking up to me.

"Does he know where you are?" I asked, suddenly concerned.

He shrugged. "He knows I'm playing, don't worry."

I looked around but couldn't see any sign of Oliver.

"Maybe we should walk back to the house."

"Aw," he pouted. "I was hoping to see the witch's cabin."

I blinked at him. "The what now?"

"The witch's cabin," he repeated, pointing behind me. "Is that where you live?" His eyes widened. "Are you the witch?"

I laughed. "I'm no witch, kiddo. But I do live in the cabin."

"Are you sure you're not a witch?" he asked slyly, smiling. He looked so much like his father that I blinked a little. It was kind of confusing to see so many similarities between them. It gave me vertigo a little bit.

I hadn't known Oliver when we were kids. We just didn't run in the same circles. I vaguely remembered him when he was slightly older than this, but I didn't have any concrete memories of him until we were teens.

I wondered if this little boy would also play football, go hunting with his dad, and prefer going fishing to having a girlfriend until he was thirteen.

"Pretty sure." I wiggled my nose like Samantha from Bewitched . "See, nothing happened."

"You have to have a wand," he said, like that was common knowledge. "Haven't you seen any of the Harry Potter movies?"

I shrugged. "I never got my wand in the mail."

"So, can I see inside?" he asked, bouncing around on his heels.

I grinned at him. He was cute, resembling a tiny Oliver but with other features I assumed came from his mother, such as his button nose and dimples.

"Sure, why not? I can give you a quick tour."

We walked inside and he reached for my hand, holding it. I pointed at the kitchen.

"That's where I make all my spells. In a cauldron."

"What's a cauldron?"

"A really big pot," I replied, chuckling as I showed him around. He seemed fascinated but also a little disappointed that there weren't any magic spell books amongst my reading collection.

A knock on the door startled me. I hurried over to it, knowing it must be Oliver.

"Don't worry," I said quickly as I opened the door. "I've got Trent."

"Oh, thank God. I turned my back for one minute." Oliver looked frazzled, and I put a hand on his arm to soothe him.

"It's okay, he's fine. He wanted a tour of the witch's cabin."

Oliver groaned. "I keep telling him there's no witch. "

"She's the witch," Trent said, giggling. "But she's not a very good one."

"I'm a terrible witch," I said flatly, and Oliver threw back his head and laughed, loud and deep.

"I guess she is," Oliver said, still snickering. "But we gotta go, kiddo. Your grandmother is waiting."

"I wanted to go with you," Trent whined.

I raised an eyebrow, looking at Oliver for answers, and he sighed.

"He wants to go and see the rig. I keep telling him it's too dangerous."

"I'll be careful, Daddy," he promised, his eyes swimming with unshed tears.

God, he was cute. I didn't know how Oliver could ever tell him no.

"Not until you're older, buddy," Oliver said, picking him up. Trent whined for a minute but eventually calmed down. He seemed like a good kid, not prone to tantrums.

"Do you need a ride to the store?" Oliver asked me, and I smiled at him gratefully.

"Yes, I do. Thanks."

I watched as Oliver and Trent walked to Oliver's car, a sedan that I hadn't seen before. I'd only ever seen him driving his truck.

Oliver helped Trent get strapped into his car seat before coming around and opening the passenger door for me.

I put on my seatbelt and turned over my shoulder to find Trent making faces at me. I made them right back, ugly enough to make Trent gasp and giggle.

I stayed quiet as Oliver dropped off Trent at his mother's house. I'd officially met her years ago, but I knew she wouldn't want to see me now. It hadn't gone well when I'd seen his father the other night .

I knew his parents probably hated me after what happened. Hell, I hated myself for the longest time, even though I didn't do anything wrong.

That wasn't what Oliver believed though, and that was the problem. He didn't trust me then, so he damn sure wouldn't trust me now.

I took in a deep breath as Oliver came back to the car, smiling at me. His smile quickly faded, however, when he saw the look on my face.

"Are you all right?"

I plastered on a fake smile. "Sure. Just thinking about what a long day this is going to be."

He whistled. "Having two jobs is a lot. Are you sure you don't want me to reschedule you for the bar tonight?"

I shook my head. "No, I need the money."

"To get out of Wagontown," he said flatly.

I huffed. "Yeah, to get out of Wagontown."

Oliver took off fast onto the highway, as if what I said upset him. I'd never lied to him, and I wasn't about to start now, regardless of what he believed.

All I wanted was to start my life over, away from all these painful memories.

Was that too much to ask?

My shift at the grocery store went by without incident. I received my paycheck for the week, smiling at Agnes as she gave it to me.

"You're doing great here, Lex. It's good to have the extra help during tourist season."

"I'm happy to do it."

I stopped by the diner and grabbed a sandwich and fries, eating quickly before my shift at the bar started. I arrived a few moments early to see Krista setting up for a big table.

"Oh, geez," I muttered, and she laughed.

"It shouldn't be too bad. They called ahead to order their appetizers and drinks. We'll just need to deal with refills. Raoul will be manning the bar tonight, and we'll work on this party."

"How many?" I asked, looking around, a little intimidated by all the chairs she'd set up.

"Fifty, fifty-five," she answered, as if that wasn't a ridiculous amount of people for one table.

My eyes widened. "I've never taken a party this big," I explained, but Krista just shrugged.

"You'll have me to help. They're good tippers, don't worry."

I was still new to all this so I did worry. And, of course, I messed up, dropping a tray of drinks while taking them to the table. Raoul was so nice, telling me not to worry about it as he helped me clean it up.

"Thank God," I mumbled as he made the rest of the drinks.

He laughed, the sound low in his chest, sweeping back his dark hair with one hand.

"Don't worry about it, honey. You're still fairly new. I don't expect you to be perfect."

"You're a great guy, Raoul," I told him, and he just smiled. He was handsome and young, I'd say early twenties. I felt like an old lady next to him.

The party only got just a little rowdy, and Krista and I were able to handle it with ease. Both of us were good at turning on the charm, so we did exactly that, some of the older, more inebriated patrons liking our sass, so it all worked out in the end.

We were splitting the tips, sitting cross-legged on the back stoop, when Oliver finally made his appearance.

It was nearly eleven o'clock and he'd been inside the office all night.

"How'd the fifty-top go?" he asked.

"We did fine without you, boss," Krista said coolly, smiling sweetly when Oliver glanced at her.

"We didn't need your help," I egged her on, giggling.

"Look, I'm sorry," Oliver sighed. "I got stuck on the phone with Clayton. He's worried about his staff."

Krista stood up, patting Oliver's shoulder. "Tell old Clayton we're doing great. Making more money all the time."

She handed me my cut, which was around four-hundred dollars, and my eyes widened as I pocketed it.

"And don't ask me if I'm sure," Krista warned me. "You're doing amazing for a first timer."

"I think we're going to close down at midnight," Oliver said with a big yawn. "I'm tired and it's a Tuesday. We're not going to get much more business."

"Sounds perfect to me, boss," Krista said.

"I've asked you to call me Oliver," he said flatly, but Krista just shrugged and went inside, leaving Oliver and me alone.

I stood there awkwardly for a moment.

"I'll go clean up my section," I said finally, and started to walk past, but Oliver grabbed me by the wrist.

"Stay afterward," he said in a low tone. "I'll drive us home."

Oh, boy.

Despite all the alarm bells ringing in my head, telling me to break things off, I stayed after everyone else left, waiting for Oliver to come out of the office.

Finally, a little after midnight, he did, walking toward me as I sat perched on the edge of one of the pool tables.

He looked at me, smiling softly, his head tilted to one side.

"What is it?" I asked, smiling back.

"Just had the weirdest sense of déjà vu," he explained. "Feels like I've seen you before on that very pool table, perched just like that."

"You probably have," I murmured, starting to hop down, but he came up to me, placing his hands on my hips.

"Don't move," he said in a low voice. "I want to remember you, just like this."

One of his hands moved to trail up my thigh, slipping under the high-waisted shorts I wore, and I gasped at his touch.

"Oliver," I whispered.

"Lex," he whispered back, as he moved his head to kiss my throat, sliding his tongue over my skin and making me shudder all over.

The next thing I knew, he grabbed my hips and placed me on the ground, turning me around with ease and bending me over the pool table.

I wanted to ask about us getting caught, what if someone came back in, what if someone forgot something? But something told me that was what made this as hot as it was so I kept my mouth shut.

He moved his hands to my waistband, unbuttoning my shorts and pulling them down, biting down on the curve of my hip as he did so. I gasped and arched my back as he moved his hands over my ass, finding the curve of my waist to hold onto as he ground himself against me.

He was hard and before I knew it, he'd freed himself and was pushing into me as I spread my legs further apart.

I raised my ass up to meet him, crying out his name when he buried himself to the hilt, whispering against my throat. I could barely hear him.

"I missed this. I missed you."

I pretended I didn't hear what he'd said, pretended it didn't make my heart soar, because I couldn't keep doing this. This had to be the last time, and I was going to tell him, as soon as my legs started working again, as soon as…

He thrust into me with long, deep strokes, sliding against my sweet spot in a way that made my breath hitch in my throat. I clawed at the green felt of the surface beneath me, trying to steady myself as my legs grew shaky. Oliver reached up to cup my breasts briefly, throwing off our cadence, and crushing my body against the edge of the table. The sharp jolt of pain mixed with the pleasure, and drew a gasp from my lips.

"Sorry," he said quietly, slowing down for just a moment, as he helped me to step back a little. He slid his hand up the column of my throat, holding on gently while his other hand wrapped around my midsection.

I leaned back against him, angling my hips to take him deeper, imprisoned with him all around me and within me, alight with pleasure that made me shiver and cry out. His long fingers that were wrapped around my throat remained gentle, but firm, even as I started to shake and snap with my impending release.

"Stay with me," he said roughly to me, driving into me harder. "Don't leave me again."

"Oliver," I panted, trying for a placating tone, but failing. I just sounded desperate, brimming over with lust .

"Just stay this time," he said again, his tone holding a note that sounded like a plea.

I didn't answer, I couldn't even if I had wanted to. My orgasm was hovering around the edges of my awareness, threatening to send me to the floor as a shaky, sodden mess. When I finally came it felt like fireworks exploded behind my eyelids. I literally saw stars. Only Oliver had ever been able to make me do that.

Oliver moaned against my ear when he spilled inside me, kissing along my neck, the side of my face, everywhere he could reach.

"Never thought we'd make love in the Pig," I giggled, and Oliver laughed with me before slowly pulling out, steadying me with a hand on my hip.

"Maybe that's why I bought the place," he teased, and I snorted out a laugh as he pulled up my shorts.

I buttoned them, blushing. He pulled up his jeans then adjusted himself as we headed to the door. After shutting down the lights and locking up the place, we walked out to the parking lot.

In the car, I went quiet, mostly to try and think of the right words to say.

"Oliver?" I said when we were halfway home. I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper.

"Mmm?"

"That has got to be the last time, okay? I can't do this anymore."

Oliver was quiet for a moment, his shoulders stiff, but then he shrugged. I couldn't really read his face due to the dark and the way he looked to the side to navigate a turn.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

That was all he had to say? Okay? He had pleaded with me to stay, begged me to think about staying while we were having sex. Okay?

"Sure. If that's what you want."

"It is," I said, more confidently than I felt, and Oliver just glanced at me. His expression told me nothing at all about what he was thinking. I felt closed off, shut out, and it hurt more than I thought it would.

"Then that's it. It's the last time."

That was it.

Was it really that easy? Why was I so annoyed?

Wasn't this what I wanted? For it to be over?

I was still reeling when he dropped me off at the cabin.

"Wait, Lex," he said, and I quickly turned around, relieved, hoping he'd ask me why, beg me not to break things off. But then he handed me my apron out the window. "Don't forget this."

"Oh. Thanks," I mumbled before he drove away.

What in the hell was that ?