Page 91 of Bruised

Oliver keeps looking at me without saying anything, and it fucks with my patience, which is on the thin side to begin with.

“Come on, just let me see him,” I beg.

“Only if you answer me this: what do you feel for him—truly? No bullshit.”

“No bullshit?” I avert my gaze, feeling that fidgety discomfort rear up, the way it always does when it comes to serious shit, like my feelings for Lane. “I like him.” I have to force the words out; this is just a warm-up for what’s to come, after all. “I like him a lot.”

“You don’t just like to fuck him?”

I shake my head. “I like all of him. Everything I’ve seen so far. But I’d like to get to know him better. If you’ll let me.”

“You’re asking for my blessing?” Oliver asks skeptically.

I shrug. “He’s your best friend, and you’re my little brother. Shit would get awkward if I dated him against your will.”

“You want to date him?”

“Isn’t that what you do when you like someone?” For once, I drop my sarcastic mask and let Oliver see a glimpse of how fucking miserable I’ve been ever since Lane left my room.

“One more question,” Oliver says. “Will you hurt him again?”

“Depends. Hurt his feelings? Not if I can help it. Hurt his body?” I draw out the word, winking.

Oliver winces and waves his hands. “Never mind, never mind! Ugh.” He steps aside, granting me access to the stairs. “But if you hurt him again, I’ll beat your ass. I mean it.”

“I’d like to see you try, little brother.”

Oliver glares as I pass him.

I sigh, dropping the act. “I’m kidding. You know I’d never hurt you.”

“Do I?” he mutters.

“Well, now you do.”

I take a couple of steps up the stairs but stop and turn around on the third one. “Hey, Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“If you really want to do this college thing, go ahead and do it, but don’t try to be someone you’re not just because Logan would like it. He knew you at thirteen, but he doesn’t know you now.”

“And you do?” Oliver asks bitterly, but I know I’ve struck a nerve.

“Just remember what I said.” With that, I turn around once more with Lane on my mind.

“Just don’t fuck him in my room,” Oliver calls after me.

“No promises.”

31. WHOLE

I hear them arguing downstairs. They say my name a few times, and the name of their stepfather, Logan, but after that, they get strangely quiet. What’s happening?

I would lock the door, but I’m sure Oliver will keep the threat of Mason away. He promised he’d protect me. I stand in his room, my mattress between me and the door, hands clenched, determined not to let Mason convince me to try again. That’s what he’s here for. It has to be. That look in his eyes when I saw him—that determined, predatory look… It has to mean he wants me. And I can’t let him have me.

The silence goes on for so long I get worried. But then I hear footsteps coming upstairs. Oh, no. Oliver was supposed to protect me!

I lunge to lock the door, but I’m too late. Ever since the beginning, Mason has always been inevitable.