“This just got interesting,” Jenson mumbles under his breath.
“You can’t afford another black eye,” Vic says, as I follow Oliver out of earshot.
He leads me under the huge tree on the other side of the yard. I walk until I’m standing directly in front of him, where the trunk of the tree mostly blocks us from my brother and the rest of the people.
“What’s up,” I say, keeping my gaze on the grass between our feet.
“What’s up?” he says. “What’s up? That’s what you’re going to say?”
I sigh and look up at him tiredly. I hate that his face makes my heart pound the way it does. I hate that his eyes and the way he looks at me makes everything else seem so . . . small.
“How’d your interview go?” I ask.
He closes his eyes for a moment and runs his hand over his hair.
“I like your hair like that,” I offer. “And your trimmed beard.”
Oliver opens his eyes again and smiles—a small one—but I’ll take it. “Thank you, and the interview went great. The interviews . . . there were two . . .” He looks away, over my shoulder when he says that, so I wait. When he doesn’t make further comment, I smile uneasily.
“Good. I knew they would.”
We look at each other for a long, silent moment, and I wish so much he would put his soft lips on mine and kiss this hesitation away.
“So . . . Hunter . . .” he says, finally.
I let out a short laugh. “We’re not dating or anything, if that’s where you’re going with this,” I say, recalling our hospital run in.
“I wasn’t . . .” He stops talking, sighs, and presses his back against the tree trunk, tilting his head up so that his throat is exposed. I want nothing more but to lean in and kiss the knot of his Adam’s apple.
“This is so hard for me, Elle. I don’t think you understand how hard.”
“What is?” I ask, my heart lurching into my throat as I wait for him to drop the bomb that he’s leaving on me.
He looks at me again. “I really thought I was going to hit him earlier. Hunter, I mean.”
My heart lurches at his admission, and I feel sick for his jealousy having that impact on me. I hated Wyatt’s jealousy; it annoyed me, and it made me angry, but Oliver saying these things makes my body feel like it’s going to break out in song.
“Why?” I ask, stepping closer.
“He came in here carrying you without a care in the world. It’s so easy for him. Vic didn’t even bat an eyelash when he saw you guys.”
“Because we’re friends,” I whisper, moving a little closer to him.
“I know that, but still. I pictured what would happen if I did the same thing, and the outcome didn’t turn out so nice in my head.”
“Are you saying we should put a stop to this?” I ask, looking between our feet.
“No. I would never say that.” The sternness in his voices brings my eyes back to his.
“Why?”
“We already went over this,” he says quietly, his hand reaching out to take mine. “I want you.”
“So take me,” I respond, and his face darkens. He threads his fingers through mine and pulls me a little closer. “We’re going to get caught,” I whisper.
“I want you so bad right now,” he says, his voice a growl against my cheek.
I pull away from him and drop his hand, looking up at him through my lashes. “Maybe you should go to the bathroom on the side of the house in a couple of minutes,” I whisper in a conspiracy. I want this . . . whatever this is. For as long as I can have it, I want it.
He bites his bottom lip. “Five minutes.”
“Five minutes,” I say, smiling as I walk away from him and head over to Mia.
“What did he want?” she whispers.
“He said he wanted to kill Hunter when he saw us walk in.”
She laughs. “That was quite a show. Jenson has been glaring at me since we got here, too.”
“Well, we knew that would happen.”
“He’s such an asshole. Such a good-looking, too responsible, asshole,” she says in a breath, referring to Jenson as she shakes her head. “Did Bean say if he took the job?”
I purse my lips. “He had interviews. I doubt they offered anything on the spot.” The idea of him taking a job so far away any time soon, makes my heart hurt. I decided to use these final weeks, or month together to be just that—together. I’ll worry about the rest later. I’ll deal with the pain when it comes, and I admit that I’m secretly hoping it doesn’t.
“Guys! The steaks are ready!” my mom calls out. The crowd seems to shift her way as a group.
“You’re not coming?” Mia asks when she notices I stay behind.
“I’ll be right there. I have to go get something inside,” I say, walking the opposite way when she darts ahead to catch up to Steven, Nathan, and the rest of the crew.
Once I’m in the bathroom, I blow out a breath in anticipation. At the sound of footsteps, my heart skips a beat, and then stops beating altogether when Oliver steps inside the bathroom with me, his presence commanding every bit of my attention. My eyes travel the length of a body I don’t think I’ll ever tire of seeing. It feels like he’s been getting this reaction out of me for as long as I can remember. His arm reaches back to turn the lock on the door and he smiles that slow, sensual smile that always makes me turn into a softer version of myself. In another breath, his hands are around my waist, pulling me forward, as his lips capture mine in a slow kiss. It’s a sweet, tender kiss that wraps my insides in knots.
My hands reach for his face, frantic to touch everything at once—his neck, his arms, his shirt . . . and even though we’re in a bathroom, and this is supposed to be quick, the look he gives me says otherwise. He unzips his jeans and pulls them down along with his boxers. His eyes tear down every bit of resolve I had built up, as he watches me do the same. I slip out of my flip-flops, my jeans, my thong, and turn around, bracing myself on the sink, and my eyes meet his in the mirror. When I lean over, his gaze leaves mine momentarily to look at what I’m baring for him. When his eyes return to mine, the hunger in them makes me hold on tighter. My eyes linger on the length of him, and I lick my lips in anticipation of feeling him inside of me again.
Oliver moves between my legs, and for a long moment, simply palms my ass in both of his hands, eyes closed, his chest expanding heavily. I step back and urge him to push inside me, but he continues to feel my cheeks and run his fingers up and down my wet folds.
“I’m ready for you,” I whisper, shivering at his touch.
“I know.” He leans in and drops a kiss between my shoulder blades. “You’ve always been ready for me.” He sinks into me slowly, fully, and I bite down on my lip to keep from crying out. “You are so ready for me,” he says, groaning as he picks up the pace. One of his arms goes to my shoulder, and the other moves to my waist as his thrusts get harder. I try not to make a sound, but I can’t help it. I feel so full, so good.
“Shhh,” he murmurs under my ear, licking there. “You’re so perfect, Elle. So perfect for me.”
His words, and the look of adoration I see in the mirror, make my heart quicken further. I push into him as his teeth clamp down on my shoulder.
“Oliver,” I moan, biting my lip, when his hand moves to rub my clit. His strokes quicken, the wet sound of his pelvis slapping over my ass becoming louder and faster.
“Elle,” he groans against me, followed by a slew of
come, please come, baby. I can’t take it when you clench around me like that.
A spark blazes through me, starting from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, and spreads like rapid fire as my core tightens and my insides coil. An orgasm rocks through me as he unloads inside of me, his cock jerking in spurts.
Oliver tucks his face into my neck and breathes hard as my head falls forward, and I try to catch my breath. Footsteps ring out outside and our heads snap up to look at each other in alarm. I flinch when he pulls out of me quickly, handing me tissues, and I start redressing as he buttons himself up. We’re not even close to being presentable—my hair is a mess, our faces are glistening with the aftermath of our quick sexcapade—but I signal for him to go outside anyway. He closes the door behind him, but I hear loud voices as soon as he steps out, followed by the doorknob turning.
“Who the fuck is in there?”
My breath catches in my throat in a panicked gasp, when I realize it’s my brother’s accusing voice outside the door.
“I swear to God, Oliver, I love you. You’re my brother, but if who I think is in there is . . .” he says, letting that thought hang and marinate a while. He slams his hand against the door. “Open the door!” he shouts, making me jump back a step.
But I can’t, because I am completely frozen. Completely and utterly frozen, just staring at the door, as a new wave of anticipation rocks through me—a very different one than the one I had coming into this bathroom. Finally, feeling tears prick my eyes, I go to unlock the door, but stop when I hear him speak again.
“Estelle is missing from the table . . . Estelle and you are the only ones missing. She’s not in her room; Mia has no idea where she is . . . Hunter doesn’t know where she is . . . and I am really trying to assume she wasn’t in there with you,” Victor says, his voice low and menacing.
“I’m in love with her, okay?” Oliver says suddenly. My knees go weak, and tears brim in my eyes. I turn the lock on the door and open it. My brother’s mouth goes completely slack, and as soon as he composes himself, his glare turns murderous.
“My sister?” he says. “You’re fucking my sister?” he shouts as if he needs confirmation beyond seeing me right there.
Oliver shoots me a look that makes my chest squeeze tighter. “I’m in love with her.”
“In love?” Victor screams, pushing him back. I scurry toward them and grip on to Victor’s arm.
“Vic, stop!”
“You’re in love with her? How can you be in love with her if you’re leaving? You just accepted a job four hours north of here, you fuck,” he yells.
“They offered you a job there, and you took it?” I ask quietly, my voice shaky as I drop my hand from Victor’s arm. He uses the moment to tread forward and swing at Oliver, clocking him in the face.
Oliver flinches and grabs his face, but his eyes stay on mine. “I was going to talk to you about that.”
“You didn’t even tell her?” Victor yells, punching him again. “You’re fucking my sister, and you didn’t even have the decency to tell her you’re leaving? How long has this been going on?”
“That’s between me and her,” Oliver says, spitting out blood, his hands bunched at his sides as if it’s taking everything in him not to hit back.
“You and her? There is no you and her!” Victor yells, panting a breath and turning to me. “Elle, there is no you and Oliver.”
He says the words, and I don’t know what my face must look like, but if it’s as crumbled as my insides, I guess he sees it. It ignites another round of anger within him.
“You motherfucker,” he says, stepping toward Oliver again, and that’s when I snap and react, grabbing on to Victor’s arm for dear life and dragging him back. As much as I’m hurting, I don’t want him to keep throwing unsheltered punches at Oliver, who’s just taking the beating as if he deserves it.
“Stop, Victor. Just stop,” I cry.
“Do you know how much she’s been through? Do you fucking know how much she’s been through in the past year? She doesn’t need a guy like you to tear her up all over again!” Victor continues, yelling.
Finally, a crowd runs to us, everybody appearing out of nowhere all at once. Jenson drops his plate on the floor and runs full speed at us, pushing Victor back.
“This bastard is . . .” he takes a ragged breath. “Screwing around with Estelle!”
“I’m not screwing around with her!” Oliver growls. Victor rears forward again, but Jenson holds him back.
“I trusted you. When did this start? I fucking trusted you! You’re like my brother! How could you fucking do that?” Victor shouts.
It isn’t until Mia runs over to me and wraps her arms around me that I realize how bad I’m shaking. She walks me backwards, away from the commotion, but I don’t budge until my dad stomps over to us.
“Victor, my office. Now,” he says in a tone that doesn’t leave room for discussion. “Oliver. My office. Now.”
Victor shoots him a look. “Can you believe—”
“Shut up and go to my office, and don’t touch him again.”
Silence falls over us, and Oliver tries to walk past them and over to me, but I shake my head slowly, not wanting things to get worse. Either way, I need to think. I need to get away from these people and think. I swallow my broken emotions and walk to Mia’s car in silence. My mom and hers stop us to hug me and say how sorry they are, amidst a million different questions.
When did this happen? Are you in love with him? Why did you keep it from us?
But I don’t respond. I don’t say that it happened so long ago, I can’t remember a time when it wasn’t happening. I don’t yell that I kept it from them because I wanted to avoid exactly what happened, or that I didn’t know what there was to report in the first place. And lastly, I definitely don’t talk about the way my heart feels like it’s been split open so completely that it didn’t even shatter, it exploded in a big, bloody mess.
I get in the car, and the guys, Nathan, Steven and Hunter come with us. Steven and Nathan find a way to squeeze in the back, as I’m forced to sit on Hunter’s lap in the front. As soon as my face touches his chest, I lose it and sob into him. He just holds me, wordlessly, until we get to Nathan’s house, and they get out of the car.
“I’m so sorry, Elle,” the three of them say, giving me a quick hug. They know what I’ve been through. They were present at the funeral, and after. They’ve held my hand through the years when my heart was only a bit chipped, and later, only a bit broken, so it’s only right they’d be present to see the complete demise of it all.
When I get back in the car, we drive quietly to the beach, where we usually go when we’re having extra good days and pitifully bad ones. We walk to the black rocks that have become our third wheel—our extra best friend—a stepping stool for our successes, and a mule to our problems. Once we take a seat beside the other, she offers me her hand . . . her shoulder . . . her ear . . . and I cry until my tears compete with the waves in a sad, broken symphony.