It took me time to catch my emotions and shove them back down. Pocketing the phone, I walked back into the restaurant and toward the table, pulled out the chair, and took a seat. Bruce and Diane continued their conversation, arguing over countertops for the kitchen. I stared at the burger before me, lost my appetite somewhere back in the parking lot.
Mia’s fingers drifted over my bouncing knee in search for my hand. “What is it?” she whispered, lacing her tiny fingers in mine. The touch of her hand steadied my heart rate, injecting strength. But I couldn’t look her in the eyes. Oscar had tormented her, tried to rape her.
“Ollie?”
I swung my head and pressed my lips against her temple, slamming my eyes closed and inhaling a deep breath.
“Okay,” she nodded and gripped my thigh, “Dad, we have to go.”
“Sure, yeah,” Bruce glanced at me and set down his fork, “Everything okay?”
Shoving my hand into my pocket, I found my wallet and threw cash over the table. I didn’t know if it was too much or not enough, but my head was spinning, and Mia and I stood from our chairs. “It will be. Thank you both for everything.”
Bruce stood and recognized the look in my eyes. “Yeah, it’s been great having you, Oliver. I know you’ll take care of my girl, better than I ever could.”
Quickly but smoothly, we said our goodbyes before we took off into the parking lot. My only goal was to make it to the car without losing my grip, without punching something or someone. This was my fault. Oscar, though the piece of shit he was, was dead because of me. His death was on my hands.
“Ollie,” Mia clutched my arm and yanked me back, “Ollie, slow down. Talk to me.”
I took her hand in mine and kept moving forward. I had to bring Mia back home. I had to say goodbye again, and I didn’t want to.
“Ollie!” She jerked her hand from mine once we reached the car. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where we’re going.”
“I’m taking you to your dad’s,” the words flooded out with tears stuck inside my throat, choking me. It was no coincidence there were cages surrounding hearts, stronger ones for the wild hearts that beat to a different rhythm. Mine was a different rhythm. My heart pumped to a different song entirely. “I have to go back, Mia, and you have to stay here.”
“Bullshit!”
I gripped her shoulders and leaned over to face her. She was a different height in the heels. A height I wasn’t used to. “Oscar died last night. They killed him to get to me. I have to go back, and as much as I can’t be without you, I can’t have anything happen to you either. You are my everything, Mia. Do this for me, please.”
“No,” she shook her head, “don’t you dare leave me.” Mia’s hands clutched my face and kissed me hard, unlocking the shambles holding me down. I sank into that kiss, wishing our bodies could merge and become one. Wishing her soul could stay safe inside mine for eternity.
“I don’t know what to do,” I confessed with my forehead to hers, gripping the back of her head.
“I’m coming with you.”
“The OG’s, Bonnie and Clyde. Fast driving, guns blazing. You two against the world.” My wild card; my one percent. My lips landed on her forehead, hoping Bud was right in the fact we needed to start fighting these battles together. “Get in the car, love. We’re going home.”
OLLIE SAT on the opposite end of the taxi, drumming his fingers over his bouncing knee. It was three in the afternoon, UK time, and we haven’t even made it back to the other airport yet to retrieve his car before we’d entered into our first disagreement.
“I don’t know why you’re still upset with me. You had my back, then as soon as we boarded the plane, I get this.” My hand waved back and forth, indicating the distance between us. He couldn’t be farther away, gaze fixated out the back window.
“Of course, I had your back, Mia. I’ll always have your back. But you were wrong.”
“I don’t understand.” The douche back in customs had been an ass, asking ridiculous questions. Okay, perhaps I’d given sarcastic remarks and didn’t answer each one of his perverted questions accordingly, but it still didn’t give him the right. “If I was so wrong, then why stick up for me?”
Ollie dragged in a slow breath, stretched out his fingers, and let it go quickly. “I’ll defend you, right or wrong, all day long in front of others, but as soon as we’re behind closed doors, I get to tell you how ridiculous you were being. We could’ve missed our flight. They didn’t have to hold the plane for us, and all he asked was what you did with that,” he snapped his finger, “bullet thing.”
“It’s a vibrator, Ollie.”
“You said, ‘bomb.’”
“I said it was the bomb.” Purposely.
Ollie’s eyes squinted as if I had insulted him. “And why do you have a vibrator in your backpack anyway?”
“You were rushing me. I just grabbed stuff from my box and shoved it in my backpack.” Including my camera, film, pictures …
Ollie held out his palm and waved his fingers. “Give it to me.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t need it anymore.”
“What if you’re out doing something, and I need a release?”
Ollie eyed the rearview mirror, where the taxi driver quickly pulled his amusing gaze away. “Since when have I ever not taken care of you?” Ollie raised a brow. He had a point, and his fingers flicked again. Groaning, I pulled the backpack over my lap and unzipped before shoving my hand into the front pocket and dropped the silver bullet into Ollie’s palm. He manually rolled down the window and tossed it out into the busy afternoon traffic. “A fucking vibrator,” he shook his head, laughing incredulously, “I’ll lick circles around that thing.”
“You just made a hitchhiker very happy,” I pointed out. “I bet someone will pick it up and name it Wilson, keep it forever.”
“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” Ollie muttered under his breath. He was cute when he was mad, knee bouncing, fingers drumming, shaking his head. I slid across the backseat beside him, moving my hand across his stretched thighs. Heat radiated from the thin material of his slacks, and I clenched my thighs together to ease the effect he had on me. Ollie rolled his neck and faced me, and forgiving eyes hit mine. “Come here,” he said through an exhale, then lifted his arm and dropped it around my shoulder, pulling me closer.
We arrived at the other airport two hours later. Ollie paid the driver, and the fee was hefty, but we couldn’t get a sooner flight into the same airport he’d left his car at.
“What do you think?” he asked, tapping the hood of the black station wagon blanketed in dust.
I paused with my backpack slung over my shoulder and tilted my head. “It’s … old.”
Ollie rubbed the hood lovingly and whispered to the car’s side mirror, “Don’t listen to her, darling. She doesn’t mean it.” Rolling my eyes with a smile, I took a step forward as Ollie opened the back door and tossed our bags inside. “You don’t have to come to the prison, Mia. I’ll be fine. I can get you a room, and you can relax for a little bit.” Ollie’s hands moved over my hips, and he pulled me between his spread legs as he fell back against the car. I was exhausted. He was exhausted. But neither one of us let it show. “Oscar was horrible to you. I’m not expecting anything of you.”