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He blinks languidly before shrugging. “You know where to find me.”
“Lana!” Oliver seems worried. When I hand Caleb his jacket back, he nods before quietly leaving.
I glance up at Oliver. Seeing him is like a dam pushing at me, threatening to break me. My voice cracks. “Want to get a drink? I think I could use one right now.”
* * *
Oliver wears anger well.
He’s pacing in the apartment while I sit on the couch, soaking in his presence like a balm. My eyes are swollen. I rest my head on the back of the couch, unable to remove my gaze from the man who’s slowly becoming a crutch to me.
He glances in my direction. The fury in his eyes dims to be replaced by softness. “You okay?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
My phone screen lights up for the twelfth time. When I note my father’s name on the caller ID, Oliver picks up the phone and it turns it off. “How do you plan on handling this?”
Longingly, I gaze in the direction of the whiskey he won’t let me drink. “Alcohol would be a good start.”
“Aside from that.”
Sighing, I move my eyes to the ceiling, studying the patterns on the it. My voice sounds dull. “I don’t know, Oliver. I don’t exactly have a game plan on how to handle being pimped out by my family.”
“You think Matt will come here tomorrow?”
My heart aches. “Yeah.”
“You don’t plan on—” He doesn’t finish his sentence, horror in his voice.
I blink. “I won’t whore myself out to him if that’s what you’re asking.”
He approaches until he’s directly in front of me, his hand reaching out, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “I don’t want that word on your lips.”
Feeling exposed in a numb sort of way, I say, “I feel like one at this moment.”
“Well, you’re not,” he states shortly, gripping my jaw in a firm hold. “You’re intelligent, talented, and driven. You are one of the most sought-after professionals in your field. And I’m telling you this as your boss, not your lover.”
My breath gets stuck in my throat as his eyes pierce into mine. “Just because your family holds such an opinion about you, doesn’t mean it undervalues your achievement. They barely know you. They don’t see the way you break your back working at all hours of the day. They don’t see the sincerity in your work or how dedicated you are. They don’t know you.”
Tears slip down my cheeks at his declaration. Gently, he wipes them away. “I see you. I know how hard you work and all you’ve achieved.”
I close my eyes, hating I’m being so weak, and he sinks onto the couch next to me. “Do you want a few days off from work?”
I shake my head. “No. Just—” I hesitate, and he regards me with a steady expectation. I murmur, “Can you stay here tonight?”
His smile is dazzling, and he presses his lips to my forehead. “I’d stay here every night if you’d have me.”
Chuckling, I burrow my head in his chest. “I bet you would.”
His presence drives away the hurt, and I let myself be enveloped by it.
The next morning, he’s still there, curl
ed around me in bed, even though our clothes still on. He’s holding me so close, almost pinning me down with his weight. It’s comforting. I lay like that for a while, enjoying his body heat, feeling as if it is cleansing me of the trauma my family has caused.
His warm breath rushes over my throat. I snuggle closer, not wanting to remember the events of last night. A soft rumbling in Oliver’s chest makes me shift to see him.
He’s watching me, alert, amusement in his eyes. “I didn’t take you for a cuddler.”
