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“No. She’s dying, G. And if I can’t get her medicine, I may be helping to plan a funeral soon,” she said bitterly, bile rising up in her throat at the thought.
“Honey, I will give you the money. Will you please take it? You’ll kill yourself if you keep up this schedule,” Gypsy whispered through the phone.
Olivia felt hot tears suddenly fall down her cheeks. She wasn’t expecting that. She rubbed them away harshly, turning to face the passenger side window for privacy from Colin.
Colin reached over to place his hand on her leg again to comfort her, drawing his hand away hesitantly when she snatched her leg away at the first touch of his fingers. She pressed into the car door, the seat belt digging into her neck.
“NO. No, G. I will work for what I need. I don’t want any handouts. But thank you for offering. It really means a lot to me. More than you know,” she said softly back, touched that she offered.
“Okay, babe. You let me know. I will help you out however I can,” Gypsy said back in farewell.
“I will, bye. Thanks again,” she hung up before immediately dialing another number.
Colin, who'd been intently observing her, continued to listen quietly as she called her bartending job and accepted every shift for the next two weeks on their schedule. Once Olivia methodically filled up nearly every hour of her life for the next month, she threw the phone back in her purse.
Colin looked at her out the side of his eye, seeing her chew harshly on the skin of her finger anxiously, as if she needed the pain.
They rode in silence for several minutes before he spoke.
Colin cleared his throat, “When are you going to have time to sleep?” he asked softly, his deep voice carrying easily across the small space.
She stiffened, not answering him. Still staring out the window, ignoring him.
“Do you need help, Olivia? Monetary help?” he offered, carefully peeking over and assessing her posture as she sat next to him.
She threw him a filthy look, practically vibrating in the passenger seat next to him.
He met her stare calmly, putting on cruise control before placing his hand back on the gearshift deceptively slow. His fingers twitched as he settled his hand on the gear shift.
“Not from you. I doubt you could afford it anyway,” she replied in a rather haughty and nasty tone.
Colin’s jaw tightened and Olivia turned to look out the window, effectively ignoring the man next to her.
Her fingers dug painfully into her shoulder as she thought about the upcoming two weeks to a month. She didn’t know how she was going to survive it if Gypsy couldn’t deliver on giving her the pills she needed. But she just knew somehow, she had to. Allison and Vanessa needed her.
She saw the familiar lights of her city ahead before he pulled over onto the shoulder of the road suddenly and put the car into park.
Olivia’s eyes widened, and she flinched as Colin all but slammed his hand into the overhead lighting, illuminating the space between them.
She stared at him for a heartbeat. The look on his face registered in her consciousness before fear took over and she tried to claw her way out of the car without undoing the seat belt.
She cried out as he leaned over easily and snatched her by her jaw, his broad hand wrapping under harshly and hauling her to him across the console. His demeanor had quickly shifted, and she gasped as his eyes turned dark, the pupil taking over the iris. His broad body suddenly filled the space of the car, one hand around her jaw, and his other arm spread outward as his fingers wrapped hard around the steering wheel. Making her feel incredibly petite.
Olivia’s eyes narrowed as she felt his warm, solid fingers digging into the flesh at her jawline. His thumb pressed hard, making her clench her teeth and fight against his grip.
“I’m going to repeat myself with you only once. Do. You. Need. Monetary. Help?” he said, his fingers digging into her jaw tighter. Olivia whimpered, her entire body flushing. She tried to unlock her jaw to reply.
“God help you if you lie to me, woman!” Colin spit out, visibly seething and miles away from the man who treated her with such consideration throughout the night.
She narrowed her eyes even further at him.
“Yes. Obviously,” she snarled. Pissed because she felt her nipples turn into stone underneath her dress. Knowing it was because he’d shown the dangerous side that he kept carefully hidden under his mask of respectability.
“How much?” he enunciated slowly, refusing to release her face or relent his harsh grip.
“I’m going to have bruises. Get your fucking fingers off me,” she said, her voice hard.
“How much, Olivia?” he asked again, feeling his patience about to snap.
