10. Olive

10

OLIVE

B reaths stutter across my lips as my head tips back, my pelvis grinding on the hotel pillow. My tiny black bullet tucked inside my panties vibrates against my clit and sends sharp jolts of pleasure shooting through my core with every roll of my hips.

In my mind, I see him. He watches me in admiration, his strikingly strange eyes roaming my body as his hands slide up my thighs.

I place my palms where I imagine his would be and gently glide them up to my exposed breasts, brushing my fingertips over my nipples with a feather touch. The sensation makes my throbbing clit tighten to the point of pain, and I grind harder as my face twists with a groan.

I wish I could see him again. Gaze into his eyes instead of only imagining them in my mind. If my sketchbook hadn’t been stolen today, I could.

“Fuck,” I moan when my spine tingles.

My movements speed up, and my mouth opens on a cry as I come, imagining Alik beneath me instead of the pillow.

My core spasms, milking something that isn’t there while I swipe the sweat from my forehead. Panting, I wait to come down from the high before pulling on my bra and sweater. It’s only six in the evening, but I’m ready to pass out.

I stare at the water stain on the ceiling and listen to the rhythmic commotion above me. It sounds like a headboard tapping.

An angry knock sounds on my door, and I shoot up, my head whipping that way. My heart races as my body flips into fight-or-flight mode. I clutch the bedspread and try to calm myself.

If it were the Irish, they wouldn’t be knocking.

“Olive, open the goddamn door.”

Dad .

I let out a sigh of relief, but it’s short-lived. I don’t want to see him either.

Maybe he’ll go away?

“Olive!” He pounds on the door so hard that I jump. I climb out of bed, toss the bullet in my bag, button my pants, and glance around in search of anything else mortifying. Which, really, I’m looking for my sketchbook. I’m so used to ensuring it’s out of reach that I do so now out of habit.

It’s gone. Hours of work, days gone.

More banging. “I swear to God, if you don’t…”

He silences at the sound of me unlatching the chain, and I swing the door open a moment later.

His face is pinched in a cruel glare as he pushes past me and slams the door. “What the hell are you thinking?”

Disappointment is etched into the lines between his eyes, but more than that, he’s angry. Not scared. Angry.

At what point did I stop being his daughter and instead become his burden?

Was it last year? Or all the way back when I was twelve?

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I say, my lips heavy with a frown. “It was something I had to do.”

“No.” He shakes his head like he’s in denial. “You and I are going to the station to recant your statement. You’re going to tell them you were high and out for revenge. You had no idea what you were talking about.”

I rear back as my brow furrows. “I gave them a video of the exchange I testified to.”

“I took care of that.” He waves his hand as if dismissing the concrete evidence I brought.

“What? How did you?—”

“The video is gone, Olive. You don’t need to worry about it. You just need to go in and?—”

“How is it gone?”

He looks at me impatiently, his hands sliding into his pockets and his stare pointed. He wants me to shut up. Do what he says and shut up.

He’s my father. He always means well. Always has my best intention at heart.

But this time, I trust Alik. I won’t recant my testimony unless Alik says it’s what’s best. He’s the one on the inside, not my father.

Even if I recanted, I don’t see how the video could be taken care?—

Oh my God.

“You got rid of it? Like, illegally?”

When my dad says nothing, my jaw drops, and I take a step away from him.

His glare falls as he shakes his head. “You don’t understand the people you’re messing with, honey. I know you think you need to get Creeper off the street, and that’s fine. We can talk about how to do that. But you can’t talk about the other man you saw, sweetheart. It’s a horrible mistake.”

I blink at him, seeing shame in his expression for the first time. Shame. Not for me but for himself.

A vice locks around my heart and squeezes, nearly crushing it with the weight of what I’m doing to my father.

What he’s doing could send him to prison if he’s caught. He’s risking his life for me.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, barely getting the words out past the lump in my throat. Part of me hopes he doesn’t hear me. It makes what I’m about to say next harder. “I can’t, Daddy. I promised someone I would do this.”

Alik promised me it would protect me.

I don’t know which one of you are right.

He closes his eyes as he stiffens.

“But if you’re worried, I could come stay with you,” I offer, my pitch high and anxious.

When he opens his eyes, my heart falls. In an instant, I see the truth in his green irises.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

My face feels cold as blood drains from it. “I understand.” I force myself to smile.

Mom still doesn’t want me there.

“She just isn’t ready.” Dad gives me a sympathetic tilt of his lips.

Not ready. Not even when my life is at stake.

She hates me.

They all hate me.

All except Dad. And I won’t even do what he’s asking.

I nod but don’t say anything else as he sighs and pulls me in for a hug. I close my eyes and wrap my arms around him.

“I love you, Daddy,” I say, my voice sad and weak.

He pulls away and nods before going to the door. “I’m going to take care of this, but in the meantime, stay here. I'll call you in a couple of days.”

“How are you going to?—”

“You don’t want to know.” He smiles weakly as he opens the door. “Take care of yourself, honey. Call me if you need anything.”

When he leaves, I go to the bed and lay back down to stare at the ceiling. I try not to think about what my dad will have to sacrifice to fix this.

A sigh blowing past my lips, I close my eyes.

I am such a fuck-up.