Page 121 of The Time It Takes
The phone line went dead, and I was stuck holding it up to my ear. I stopped breathing for one—two—three—four—five seconds and then a sob ricocheted through my body, and it was powerful enough to break everything inside of me. My body weakened and I dropped, but not before arms wrapped around me to ease the fall.
I was breaking and breaking and breaking. Then I realized the only reason I wasn’t entirely shattered on the ground was because I was being held together solely by Oliver’s arms. All my pieces gathered against the warmth of his chest. The numbness slowly seeped out of my pores, and I felt everything like broken glass cutting into my skin. Every bone snapping. Every artery in my heart bursting. Every word clogged in my throat and arriving at the tip of my tongue in a scream of anguish. The world had gone dark. Tears like fire burned down my cheeks and I could no longer see a thing anymore. I could only let him hold me and beg him silently to never let go.
He was gone.
He was actually gone.
Ben was dead.
My brotherwas dead.
The world had taken him from me.
And it took everything in me not to beg it to take me next.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Present
"Ollie?”Iaskafterseveral minutes of his undying silence. I told him everything that happened that night—every single retched detail. His face has gone completely white. My heart is beating wildly in my chest. I have never seen this look in his eyes before. The truth makes him sick, knowing he wasn’t there with me that night to save me—knowing I couldn’t save myself.
His brows crease slowly as he stares at me. A second later he’s lunging off the bed and running into the bathroom. I hear the lid hit the back of the toilet and then he’s hurling his guts up. I close my eyes and wince.
One.
Two.
Three breaths and he’s flushing the toilet.
Four.
Five.
Six breaths and I hear things being thrown across the room.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine breaths and I hear his feet slide against the floor before he stops in the doorway.
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve breaths and his eyes lift to mine.
He looks over my body like he’s never seen it before, which is exactly what I had feared. I start to shrink away and wrap my arms around my body. Something changes in his face, and I stop myself. There’s so much conflict in his gaze as if he’s not sure where to place his anger. I’m still trying to figure out where to put mine.
I can feel him reaching out to me—soul to soul. I slowly get up onto my feet, clasping my trembling hands together to hide how hard this is for me. Every emotion is now worn on my skin. I’m a mess, and I’m putting myself on full display. I wanted to be strong, but every step toward him makes me feel weak.
“Please say something,” I whisper as I fiddle with the bottom hem of his shirt. His hands tug at his hair as more tears rush down his face. The muscle in his jaw ticks with a constant intensity. It looks like it hurts. He blows out a long breath, never taking his eyes off me. I wonder if he doesn’t know what to do with me or if he’s afraid to touch me after discovering my innocence had been torn from me with no remorse.
I told him about Julian and how he helped me feel like my body belonged to me again. He helped me pick up my broken pieces when my arms weren’t strong enough to do it myself. Now, I only wonder if I’ll ever be enough for Oliver again. If I’m too damaged to love.
As if he reads my mind, he strides toward me—devastation on every structure of his body. My mess is visible on his skin too. He wears my anger, my pain, and my grief like it’s his own. I want to make it go away, but I can’t. He needed to know so that he could understand. I need him to understand why I had to leave. Everything was too much of a reminder.
In the end, I decided it hurt more to stay and face those I loved than it did to leave and lose them completely. Staying meant them learning the truth eventually and at that time it felt like I’d never be ready to give it.
