Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“You’re not a side piece if I’m there, dumbass.” I kick him, fingers still in Ollie’s hair.
“You know what? I changed my mind. I’m leaving,” Ollie says playfully. He tries to get off my lap, but I tighten my hold.
“You’re not going anywhere. You’re mine.”
“And suddenly I don’t want to leave anymore,” Ollie jokes, and everyone laughs again.
And here Ollie is, giving me another perfect moment. All the people in this room are.
“He’s called us the mini mob to me before.” Dean shrugs.
“That nickname stays between us,” Tiernan orders, but he offers a wink to Ollie.
“All right. We need to get ready for work. I’m going with him if you need me, T.” I tap Ollie’s thigh so he stands. When I’m on my feet too, Tiernan’s phone rings.
“Hold that thought. It’s Rian.”
I groan. Not that the call has anything to do with me. He hasn’t spoken to me since that awkward phone call where he asked about Ollie, when we were still staying in the dorm.
Tiernan answers, listens. “Why?” he asks, meeting my gaze briefly. “You know we don’t have to do this, right?” he tells my father. “This is not the kind of thing you get to call the shots on.” The fist of his free hand tightens as he listens. “We’ll discuss it and get back to you.” Tiernan ends the call.
“What is it?” I ask, chest tight.
“He wants us all home for Thanksgiving. Together.” He looks at Ollie. “You too.”
“Fuck that,” I say. “He can kiss my ass. I’m not spending the holiday with him.” Why the hell is he even asking? That’s not us. At least not him and me. And Thanksgiving? It’s not a day we celebrate.
“We all go or none of us go,” Tiernan cuts in. “It’s up to you two. You let us know what we’re doing, and we do it.” He lights the weed and inhales a bong rip.
“No,” I answer.
Tiernan blows out smoke. “Then I’ll tell him no.”
“Wait.” Ollie touches my arm. “Let’s just take a day to think on it.” My jaw tenses, but I don’t respond, and Ollie says to Tiernan, “We’ll tell you tomorrow, okay?”
Tiernan shrugs. “Fine.”
Ollie takes my hand, and the two of us go up to our room. The second the door is closed, I say, “We’re not going.”
“So that’s how it’s going to be with us? You get to make decisions, and I don’t get a say?”
“No, but this is about my dad. That makes it different.” I fist my hands in my hair, tighten my hold. Why the fuck am I freaking out like this? Why does it even matter? Fuck my dad. And if I see him, whatever. It is what it is. I know he doesn’t care, and I don’t care either. “He couldn’t even fucking call me to ask that? It has nothing to do with work!” And that’s the heart of this outburst, isn’t it? The reason I’m losing my shit. I’m upset he didn’t call me. I’m not supposed to want him to call me, but I do.
“I’m sorry.” Ollie encircles me in his arms. “I’m so sorry he hasn’t been the dad you deserve, but maybe he’s trying. Maybe that’s what this is about, and he just doesn’t know how to do it.”
“I don’t care about him.”
“It’s okay if you don’t. He needs to earn that, but it’s also okay if you want to give him that chance to earn it…if you want to see where this goes, even if it doesn’t change things. I just don’t want you to make a decision out of anger and then later regret it. Because in here”—he touches my chest—“I think you care more than you want to admit. Don’t make a choice for him. Make one for you, baby.”
“Ugh. Why did you have to pull out the term of endearment?” I try to smile but end up pulling him closer instead. This always helps. Being with him makes everything better. “What would you do?” I ask, honestly curious.
“You need to do what you want, not what I want.”
“I know, but I trust your judgment more than mine. You’re more levelheaded. I’m more like the mini mob.” This time I do smile. “Most of us react first, ask questions later. Tiernan thinks things through more, but his first instinct is still anger, and mine is too.” But not Ollie’s. He’s better at using logic, looking at a situation from more than one angle. He’s a lot better at making adult decisions than anyone in this house and maybe anyone I know.
“Cil…”
“Please. Tell me. I trust you.”
“Thank you.” He looks at me with a world of tenderness in his gaze. “I think…I think you love your dad. You don’t want to, but you do. Who knows if he deserves that love, but if there’s a chance he does, I want you to have it. Maybe he’s trying, and it could be too little too late. Only you can make that decision, but if it were me, I would give him a chance.”