Chapter 12

Iwoke up the next morning feeling brand new.

My body clock woke me at exactly half past five, after what felt like the most magnificent and peaceful sleep ever.

Lately, I dream every night. The dreams vary between certain animals, snakes in particular, to falling off the edge of a building. They have been so vivid, often causing me to wake up utterly exhausted from the constant worry.

This morning was different.

I lay on my back, arms sprawled across the pristine white sheets I had bought to match the décor of this house. Despite it being a holiday rental, using someone else’s sheets wasn’t exactly my idea of hygienic. I even went so far as to splurge on luxury pillows. If there is only one thing my mother knows how to do right, it’s purchasing ridiculously expensive bedding fit for a queen.

The sun hasn’t risen yet, but the sound of birds chirping outside the window hints it’s early morning. My mind begins to reminisce about last night, replaying like an olden-day movie.

Things between Oliver and I have begun to shift. A direction I so desperately want to follow, yet knew I had to hold back.

Oliver is so carefree with his thinking, not understanding why someone wouldn’t just live their life on their own terms. The more I tried to justify my father’s behavior, the more I sounded like an idiot.Oliver doesn’t understand what my father is capable of. I’ve seen it firsthand how easily he destroys people’s lives without a care in the world.

And I would be no different, despite being his youngest daughter.

Blood is not thicker than water. If you do him wrong, you will pay no matter who you are.

I somewhat feed off Oliver’s confidence, desperate to have his courage, willpower, and drive. He didn’t let anything stop him. He thought he was better than everyone else and deserved only the best.

Oliver only thought about himself—his career, his goals. Selfish, perhaps, but his determination got him this far, and nothing seems to deter him.

I crave to be around him, looking forward to his texts or even the way he annoyingly refers to me as Gabs. As far as our friendship goes, we are platonic. Neither one of us has physically crossed the line, and I ignore every part of me wanting to take that line and shove it up someone’s backside.

Oliver treads the line with a careful balance.

I close my eyes, remembering how close he sat beside me in the spa, how our bodies were only inches apart, and how I wanted him to throw all caution to the wind and kiss me deeply. If we both had acted on spontaneity, not thinking about the consequences for one second, where would we be this morning?

But like always, the guilt is a toxic wave refusing to settle. It eats away at me when I least expect it, and last night, standing on the steps as he poured his broken heart out, I knew I was in trouble.

Oliver Madden is all I can think about, and seeing him in pain almost killedme.

I need to see him now.

I change into my workout gear, brush my teeth, and try to tame my hair. It’s an epic failure, as usual, so I decide to quickly braid it away from my face.

Late last night, I cleared it with Lana to borrow her spare key she kept under a potted plant out front to use it to wake Oliver up. It wasn’t without a thousand follow-up questions, all of which I promised to update her on soon.

With the front door closed behind me, I tiptoe toward his bedroom, stopping near the living room to pat Bubbles as he’s nestled into his bed before heading back down the hall.

As I enter Oliver’s room, he’s lying with his arm over his shoulder, torso in full view. He’s all muscle, a delicious sight, with a small amount of hair in the middle of his chest. I crave to run my fingers through it but know better.

He begins to stir, watching me as he grunts. “What the hell?”

“It’s morning. Rise and shine, baby,” I cheer.

“Do you know this is the first time in months I’ve had more than four hours of sleep? And how did you even get in here?”

“Is that how you greet all your women callers?”

“You’re the first one who’s stalked me all the way to my bedroom.” He rubs his hands against his face to wake himself up. “If it helps, I’m going commando under the blanket.”

I so want to test him, but resisting, I tease, “I wouldn’t put it past you. Now, c’mon, lazy bones, we’re going to miss it.”

He turns around, pulling the blanket with him. The top of his ass is exposed, and holy shit, he isn’t kidding. I stare at his back, admiring his skin, and why do I want to bite his ass?

“I’m going to wait for you out front,” I tell him, trying to tame my imbalance of hormones at this point. “To give you some, um… privacy.”

“Are you sure?” He rips off the blanket, his ass now completely exposed. “Come join me.”

I almost choke at the sight of him naked. Backing away from the bed, I turn only to walk straight into the door. The pain ricochets through my face and up to my temple. “I’m sure.”

Struggling to open my eyes, his smirk is all I can see. Asshole.

“You okay, Gabs? I don’t picture you as a prude.”

“I’m fine. I’ll meet you outside.”

“Stop!” He hops out of bed, standing in front of me, and my eyes wander carelessly to see the bedsheet wrapped around his waist.

“Hey, eyes up here. I know you’re keen to see the Colonel Madden, but I need to check your nose.”

He scans my face, sliding his finger against the bridge of my nose. The bone is tender, and my eyes are still watering from the collision.

“You know, a Major General is higher than a Colonel,” I tease, trying to keep a straight face and ignoring the pain.

With a smirk in tow, his eyes dance with delight. “I didn’t know that. Perhaps you should look to make an educated decision.”

I punch him in the chest, pulling away. “Another time, playboy.”

I’m praying a bruise won’t appear from the brutal hit. Ten minutes later, he’s out front on the porch with me, all dressed and yelling at me to keep up. We hadn’t even started yet but he’s judging me on being slow.

Today isn’t as bad. I’ve surprised myself with how fast I can run without falling into a heap on the pavement. By the time we arrive at the pier, we make it just in time to watch the sunrise. The sun blooms on the horizon, golden petals stretching outward into the rich blue sky. My body relaxes at the stunning sight. It’s the invitation to a new day, new possibilities filled with hope and endless dreams. Dreams I have trained myself to stop conjuring up because they never belong to me.

Even when the world around me feels like it’s drowning, the sky always remains beautiful. It’s become my savior, my glimmer of hope when darkness shadows the light at the end of the so-called tunnel.

And beside Oliver, I allow myself to dream.

I dream of watching this forever.

With him.

“It’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

From the corner of my eye, I can see Oliver staring at me. “Yeah, I think.”

“Don’t you wish you could watch this every day?”

“I wish for that every night,” he whispers.

I turn to face him, unsure of what to say without saying something I might regret. He’s lost in thought, watching the sunrise quietly. I observe his sharp jaw, chin, cheekbones, and the way his hair, a mess of sandy blond strands, frames his face. When Oliver falls quiet, such as moments like now, he’s incredibly beautiful. An odd description to use on a man, but I can’t help but use a word so fitting to what I see beside me.

He”s nothing like the asshole I met at the pub that night.

“I want to take you out for breakfast,” I say, breaking his deep stare out over the ocean. “Are you free?”

“I have to be somewhere at eleven, but free before that.”

We run back, stopping at Sally’s, which isn’t as busy given the early-morning hour. Taking our usual table, we both order and sit quietly watching the few people who stroll by as we wait for our food to be served.

“You’re quiet today,” I mention, not oblivious to his calm demeanor.

“I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

“You.”

“Me?” I ask, nervously playing with the end of my braid. “Why?”

“Because I’m thinking about how someone like you doesn’t see all the beauty around you. Every door is open, and she’s only staring at the one that’s closed.”

He’s quick to bring it up again. I grab the napkin, placing it on my lap to avoid eye contact as a waitress serves our breakfast. My acai bowl looks delicious, yet so does Oliver’s bacon, eggs, and hash browns.

“Oliver, you just don’t understand.”

“Make me understand, Gabriella.”

“You called me by my first name?” I lift my gaze, staring directly into his eyes. “I don’t want to be just a senator’s wife. I don’t want that life for me. Nicholas is no different than my father.”

“Then explain to me why a man, no different, has allowed you to walk away?”

“I don’t know…” I murmur, twisting the napkin to calm my anxious nerves. “I thought I just needed time to figure things out… and now… I’m all confused.”

The second I say it, I regret it instantly.

Oliver has to know it’s about him.

He must know he circles my thoughts almost every minute of the day, tearing my conscience apart.

Desperate to change the topic, I muster up a smile as I observe his plate. “How’s your breakfast?”

“It’s great, thanks…” He pauses, then puts his fork down, resting his elbows on the edge of the table. “This confusion?—”

“I don’t want to talk about it. At least, just not now.”

He doesn’t force another word, respecting my decision to no longer entertain this topic. We eat the remainder of our food in silence until Oliver suggests we leave so he can attend his appointment across town. I don’t ask any further details while we walk back to the house silently.

“Oliver?” I call, waiting for him to turn around. “Just give me time, okay? I need to process all this.”

His soft lips stretch into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. They’re lit with sadness, and no doubt pity, because he can’t grasp the way I live my life and the feeling of entrapment.

For a few moments, I stare at him, almost sure his expression mirrors mine. I want to ask him to stay, come inside, and sit with me. But I know that would be asking for something only to satisfy my needs. Play the selfish card because he has somewhere important to be, and I want him to put me first.

I want anyone to put me first.

Including myself.

Oliver disappears around the corner without a single word, and once again, I’m alone.

I close the door behind me, resting against it while I try to come to terms with what just happened. Inside my head, I can’t comprehend my feelings toward Oliver. Sexual attraction is one thing, but the way he makes me feel in his presence—alive and worthy of this life—I just can’t, no matter how much I try to get my head around those thoughts.

My heart, on the other hand, knows what the hell is happening, waving red flags at me to walk away now before it gets too messy.

I wrack my brain trying to remember when I last felt this way. It wasn’t with Pierce Worthington in my senior year of high school when I lost my virginity to him on prom night at The Ritz-Carlton, nor was it with William Chesterfield in college during our six-month relationship.

And it isn’t with Nicholas King.

It’s now the bad boy neighbor who has turned out not so… bad.

After a long shower, desperate to rid my thoughts and gain some clarity on the situation, I settle myself in the kitchen with a strong coffee and my new book. I opt for reading non-fiction—a simple way to steer my brain toward something educational instead of the smut as Lana refers to it. The last thing I need are characters having sex when I’m not.

There’s a gentle knock on my door, breaking my concentration. Lana strolls in, dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a ripped tee, carrying a basket of muffins.

“Good morning, how are we today?”

“Good,” I answer, eyeing her cautiously. “What’s with the muffins?”

“I just thought they would be nice.”

“Thank you.”

“All right…” She states, placing them on the table and sliding into a chair. “I need a huge favor.”

Of course, never take muffins from a neighbor without a string attached.

“Spill…”

“It’s Sebastian’s and my anniversary. I’ve planned a night away, and Lizzie was supposed to babysit, but she’s got food poisoning. If I cancel, it’s non-refundable.”

“You want me to babysit? At your place?”

“Pretty please? Don’t worry about Olly. He’s out tonight. He said he wouldn’t be home until tomorrow.”

The disappointment stabbed me like a thousand knives. And just like that, the man who I thought I knew has become a complete stranger once again. Oliver never mentioned going out, let alone overnight. He has a whole other life I know nothing about. Surely, it involves a woman. We are nothing. He’s certainly not tied to me whatsoever.

“Sure, I can take care of Ace.” I smile, hiding my humiliation. “Go. Enjoy yourself and have copious amounts of sex, making every woman in the rooms surrounding yours jealous.”

Lana winks, laughing. “That’s the plan.”