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I put the shirt around his shoulders and guide one arm into the sleeve. I button it until I reach the middle of his chest. Then I stop.
The next button would cover the silver bar completely. I leave it open.
Oliver looks down. I smooth the collar into place. He doesn’t ask me to button it. Pride looks pretty on him.
I step back to look at him. The trousers fit exactly the way I thought they would, and the green is better on him than it was on the hanger.
“You may fix your hair with the things in your bathroom while I get Jamie dressed.”
“How old is Jamie?”
I look at him. “Why?”
“You dress him.”
“He’s an adult.”
“How long has he been here?”
His eyes stay on mine, waiting.
I pick up the breakfast tray. “You’ll meet him soon.” I take the shocker with me and open the door.
Oliver doesn’t follow, but I can feel him watching.
“Stay here.”
“I don’t appear to have much choice.”
“Correct.” I step into the hall and pull the door closed before locking it again.
Oliver’s first morning went better than past Olivers. I put his key back in my pocket.
This Oliver might last.
CHAPTER 17
Jamie
My hair is a fucking mess.
I find the first knot when I sit down at the vanity and try to pull my fingers through it. There’s another one underneath, closer to my neck, where I must have slept on it wrong. I work that one loose carefully and glare at myself in the mirror.
She didn’t brush it last night. She told me she wouldn’t wake me when she got home. I remember the exact conversation, including the part where I was supposed to be grateful that she was drugging me instead of letting me stay awake while she went out to kidnap another man.
Fine.
I slept with Duck mashed against my face and woke up alone with half my hair trapped underneath me. I don’t know what time she came home. I don’t know whether she checked on me. I don’t know how long she spent getting Oliver settled into his nice green room after she dragged him through the front door.
I don’t want to know. I want her to tell me anyway.
I was awake when she came upstairs this morning. I heard her on the stairs and sat up because I thought she was coming to unlock my door. Instead, her footsteps went right past me. She walked straight down the hall to him.
Fuck Oliver.
I open my makeup drawer and take out my primer.
The house is too quiet for a place with three people in it. Heather’s voice carries sometimes, but not enough for me to understand what she’s saying. Oliver’s carries less. I can hear the low shape of it through my door every now and then, followed by Heather, then nothing.
