Текст книги "The body painter"

Автор книги: Pepper winters

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Chapter Thirty-Two

______________________________

Olin

-The Present-

“COME ON, GIL. Pick up the damn phone.”

I cancelled the call as it dropped from ringing to his answer machine for the fourth time. I understood why he wasn’t answering. I doubted being interviewed at the police station allowed personal calls to interrupt. It had only been a couple of hours since he’d been ‘borrowed’ for questions. I was probably overreacting.

I knew all of the above, but it didn’t change the fact I desperately needed him to pick up.

Something isn’t right, Gil.

And...I’m not sure what to do.

Tossing my useless phone onto my lap, I clutched the steering wheel with both hands and focused on the road. My foot rocked on the accelerator, inching over the speed limit, testing the black van tailing me.

My heart raced as the van matched my increase, gliding like a threatening shadow about to swallow me whole.

Shit.

I should’ve stayed in my apartment.

Then again, the bastard Gil was trying to protect me from had definitely been there. I didn’t feel safe knowing his hands had touched my stuff, walked my carpets, and investigated my home.

After the police had left, I’d tiptoed through the rest of my place, doing my best to untangle superstition from fact. I’d almost managed to convince myself it was just crazy imagination, lack of rest, and Gil’s ominous ‘you’re in danger’ talk that made me second-guess the privacy of my home.

However, that false hope popped the second I entered my bedroom and found my pillows on the floor. Strange but perhaps not too strange. Gil could’ve tossed them from my bed while I made us coffee before we left. He could have a weird need to do something odd—to mess up the bed I’d slept in and not offered him to join.

I could’ve spun a tale that far-out, if it hadn’t have been for the symbolism of blood smearing the linen.

Gil was a painter, but I doubted he’d ever take a bottle of red nail varnish and dribble it over my bedding and pillows, staining them with acrid crimson, turning fluffy comfort into fabric corpses.

He wouldn’t do something that reeked so pungently of death.

Instinct had kicked in, telling me to flee.

I snatched some clothes, stuffed them into my duffel, and shot from the building. I’d hoped the cops might still loiter outside. They wanted clues to apprehending a criminal? I had clues.

Gil had an airtight alibi this time. Nothing could beat being in police custody while an obvious threat to my life was left uninvited in my apartment. I could tell them about the kidnapper—give the right license plate. I could do my part in protecting Gil for a change.

But no cruiser sat at the curb. No badges and protection were there to jot down my sudden willingness to talk. Only a young couple strolling arm in arm kept me safe as I bowled from my building and almost tripped into them.

Their eyes widened at my bright green skin then snickered as I stumbled in my haste.

My hands shook as I unlocked Gil’s hatchback, threw my bag in the back, and buckled in. My driving skills were rusty. But I shoved aside trepidation and tore into gear, my mind careening with scenarios and solutions. Gil wanted me to go to his warehouse. But the guy knew where Gil lived. He’d beaten him up and tried to kidnap me right outside—I daren’t go there on my own.

I’d driven down my street, joined the main road, and chewed my lip while contemplating answers. Then I’d looked behind me and spotted company. Company that had never left my tail since leaving my building.

Maybe it’s just a coincidence.

My eyes flickered to the rear-view mirror again, studying the black van. The late afternoon sun glinted on scratched paintwork, revealing a dent that matched the one I’d seen when Gil had been on his knees accepting unretaliated abuse.

It wasn’t a coincidence, and for the first time, Gil’s warnings of danger were no longer an inconvenient threat but a very real concern.

One hand dropped from the steering wheel as I once again scooped up my phone and pressed redial. I hopped into a new lane, haphazardly turning left with no indicator.

I studied my follower as frustrating ringing filled my ear.

The black van mimicked me, earning a honk from some motorist in his rush to chase me around the corner.

My heart stopped.

This was real.

He wasn’t just going in my direction. He was hunting me.

The call once again didn’t connect, and I was done being the scared mouse. It’d been a while since I’d driven—thanks to using public transport on a budget—but I didn’t let that stop me as I stomped on the accelerator and shot forward.

Veering into another lane, I overtook the blue sedan in front of me and ran the amber light while others pulled to a stop.

The van raced forward, cutting the light as it turned red.

Prickles of foreboding galloped over my skin. My eyes flickered to the fuel gauge.

Quarter tank.

How far would that get me before I ran out of ability to run? Where the hell could I go? My parents weren’t in the country. Gil was otherwise engaged. My dance friends wouldn’t know what to do with me after my vanishing act and lack of communication the past few years.

I literally had no one to turn to and nowhere to go.

I sped up, shooting down a side street that led to a quaint cobblestone lane.

Bad move.

Pedestrians clogged the space as well as food carts spilling from the curb.

Flattening my palm on the horn, I earned a few one finger salutes as I inched my way forward. The van followed, our chase turning from quick to crawl.

With my elbow, I locked the doors, grateful that this uninspiring hatchback at least had central locking. At this speed, the guy could jump from his vehicle and walk to get me.

Come on!

I honked again, ducking low from people’s glowers.

My phone slid from my thigh into the crook of my lap as I feathered my foot from brake to gas pedal. I scooped it up again, redialling for the sixth time.

Ring.

Ring.

Answer machine.

I hung up.

Reaching the end of the lane, I looked behind me. The van hugged my bumper, crowding me into traffic.

I’d run out of options, and I didn’t have the driving skills of a stunt car operator to lose him. I hadn’t wanted to turn to Justin. I hadn’t wanted to replay the past by leaning on Justin because Gil wasn’t there for me. Gil was there for me—he was just incapacitated currently.

But...I don’t really have a choice.

The van nudged me, shuttling me forward as I pulled to yet another crawl at a zebra crossing with a mum pushing a pram.

I threw him a nasty gesture, allowing my anger to hide my fear. No way would he make a murderer out of me by running her down all to save myself.

With trembling hands, I pulled up Justin’s details and shot forward as the woman reached the pavement. I hesitated a few seconds before pressing call, wincing at what Gil would say, knowing that I’d once again used Justin for my own devices.

Swallowing hard, I activated the speaker and placed the ringing phone on my lap. Planting both hands on the steering wheel, I crept over the speed limit again, trying to put some space between me and the van.

“Miller speaking.”

The line crackled a little, but relief shot through my heart. “Justin, it’s Olin.”

“O? Everything okay?”

“Um. Not really.” I took a corner sharply, cursing as the van managed to manoeuvre the same path.

“What’s going on?” Justin’s tone slipped from casual to sharp. “You in trouble?”

That was Justin.

He might’ve been the boy everyone liked at school, but it wasn’t because of some misplaced popularity contest or ego. He genuinely cared. He was thoughtful and sweet, and it’d been my broken heart over Gil that had drawn him to me.

I hadn’t actively tried to date another person. But Justin had seen my tears and offered a shoulder to cry on. He tried to make me happy.

Justin was like me.

It made him feel good to help others. And even though we were too similar to date long term, I’d allowed Justin to soothe me and hid my cringes when he’d kissed me. I’d ignored the fact that I had no romantic interest in him because I’d missed Gil so, so much.

Also, knowing Gil saw me with him...well, the vindictiveness was sweet after heartbreak.

Guilt rose.

Guilt for hurting Justin as well as Gil.

Guilt for hurting myself.

“Olin...you can tell me. If you need help, you know I’m always—”

“There for me. I know.” My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. God, how could I betray Gil’s confidence? How much could I spill without telling everything—including the parts I didn’t know myself?

I accelerated, taking another corner too fast. “I don’t have time to explain, but I’m being chased by someone Gil was protecting me from. I don’t have anywhere to go and daren’t go to Gil’s on my own.”

“Where’s Gilbert?” Justin demanded. “He isn’t with you?”

“He’s, um...elsewhere.”

“Where are you?”

“Driving around, trying to lose unwanted company.”

Justin sucked in a breath. “What do you need from me?”

“I don’t really know. I just need somewhere I can be safe.”

“Come here.”

“Where’s here?”

“My work. I’m the CFO of Abacus Accounting. We’re on the main drag downtown.”

“I don’t think I can get there. How would I park? Where would I get out without this arsehole grabbing me?”

He went silent for a second, then strict control entered his voice. “Go to Gil’s.”

“But I just said—”

“Go to Gilbert’s. I’ll meet you there.”

“I don’t think the two of us will scare this guy away. He hurt Gil last time—” I shut myself up. How much did Justin know of Gil’s life?

But Justin didn’t ask for more details; his mind already on other distractions. “Keep driving for ten minutes, then get to the warehouse. I’ll bring reinforcements.”

He hung up.

Reinforcements?

I slipped through another orange light and looked at the clock.

I had no idea what that meant, but I had ten minutes to kill.

Ten minutes until this ended—for better or for worse.

I shot forward, doing my best to vanish.

* * * * *

The van shadowed my every move as I turned into the warehouse precinct and followed the long drive past other used and derelict buildings to Gil’s painting empire.

I’d done my best to shake my shadow, but I wasn’t quick enough, and he was determined.

I’d waited fifteen minutes before driving to Gil’s, knowing that it was a one-way entrance, and once I was outside warehouse twenty-five, there was no going back.

With my heart thrumming, I inched farther from public view, begging Justin to have a decent welcome committee. My shoulders slouched in gratefulness when I spotted three cars parked outside Gil’s place. Four men in black suits with arms crossed loitered against their expensive sedans.

Thank God.

The van that’d ridden my ass the entire trip, slowed and fell back.

I sped up, putting distance between us as I shot to where Justin stood, and parked swiftly. Launching out of the hatchback with my phone in hand, I jogged to him and turned to face the van.

It hulked in the middle of the road with warehouse debris on either side and evening light dappling it in softness. Standing next to Justin and his friends, I felt like an idiot—as if I’d made up the seriousness of the threat.

Justin reached out and squeezed my hand, giving me a quick smile. “You all good?”

I nodded, unable to take my eyes off the van but equally unable to leave my hand in his. Tugging away slightly, I returned his smile with a huge sigh of gratefulness. “Thanks so much for helping me.”

“Not at all.” He nodded at his friends. “Let’s go pay our unwanted guest a visit, shall we?”

The men, who looked as if they regularly attended a gym but their natural habitat was behind a desk, moved forward in a black-suited crowd with Justin in the middle.

I trailed behind them, peering into the windshield of the van, trying to see past the window’s glare to the driver beyond.

Is it the same guy?

Was Gil being blackmailed by a single person or multiple?

Passing the hatchback with its engine still running, the men balled their hands in an obvious threat. Justin cocked his chin, his profile harsh and cutting in the early evening shadows.

The van didn’t move. A black stain on the horizon. It sat and accepted their threat until only a few metres existed between vehicle and man.

I shook with adrenaline, trembling at confronting the very person who terrified me and made Gil’s life a living hell. I wanted him arrested. I wanted him dealt with so he could stop hurting Gil so badly.

But as Justin struck into a jog and his friends followed, the van’s engine squealed. It shot into reverse, zooming down the road, too fast to be caught.

The guys slowed to a walk. One of them took a photo of the van’s license plate while another chucked a rock in the vehicle’s direction.

The van swerved at the end of the drive and disappeared into traffic.

It happened so fast, I once again felt like an overreacting idiot.

I fell back as Justin spoke to his friends.

The murmur of masculine voices blended well with the buzz of the city and hum of whatever other industries were alive in the unassuming warehouse buildings. I looked down at my phone, moving away.

Should I call Gil again? How much longer could the police keep him?

With my thoughts on Gil, I didn’t look up until the snarl of engines stole my attention, signalling Justin’s mates were leaving. I waved in thanks, wishing I’d been more sociable than worrying over Gil.

I owed them the biggest thank you.

My heart skipped a beat as Justin threw a hand up in farewell, then headed toward me. His eyes held lines of stress, but his mouth quirked into a smile. “You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded, slipping into step with him. “Yes. Thanks again for all your help.”

He shrugged. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Were those guys your friends?”

“I work with them. All good blokes even if they are accountants. One holds a championship in amateur boxing.”

“Impressive.”

“It’s handy when you have someone threatening you.” His gaze narrowed. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

I bit my lip, throwing a look at Gil’s warehouse. “I don’t know if I can.”

“What are you caught up in?”

A huge exhale escaped me. “Honestly...I don’t know.”

“Your problem or Gil’s?”

I eyed him. “Not my problem to tell.”

“Okay, so it’s Gil’s.”

“I didn’t say that.”

He crossed his arms, a scowl darkening his face. “Let me put it another way. Did you have this stalker before you found Gil again, or is it a recent development?”

“He’s not a stalker.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m not sure about anything these days.”

Looking at the sky, Justin huffed. “Look, it’s none of my business what goes on between you and Gil. I don’t expect you to tell me, but you did reach out to me, O. You know I’d never betray you—”

“And I can’t betray him.”

He sighed, visibly calming himself. “Okay, fine. I get it. I’m just glad you’re past thinking he’s a murderer, so I won’t pry.” Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out a key chain. “Come on. Let’s at least get behind a locked door in case that bastard comes back.”

I padded beside him in my bare feet, green skin, and white robe. “You have a spare key?”

He shot me a grin. “I’m his only friend. Who else would he give a spare to?”

I hugged myself as he unlocked the pedestrian door and moved aside to let me enter. “I still don’t understand how your friendship works.”

Gil had accepted Justin into his life...but I doubted he’d shared his troubles.

“Guess he’ll have to fill you in on that.” He stepped inside, turning to close and lock the door.

The hulking warehouse was dark and chilly. The large expanse turned footsteps echoey and the sense of comfort from a home was missing thanks to sparse soft furnishings.

Justin flicked a switch, drenching the space in illumination. “You’ve obviously seen Gil at some point today.” He moved toward the thermostat, turning on the heat to remove the icy lace on the air. It was as if Gil’s space stayed as cold as its owner, waiting for the king of snow to return.

“If you’re talking about the body paint I should have washed off hours ago, then yes, I’ve seen Gil today.”

“Commission?” He kept moving through the office and into Gil’s apartment. I had no choice but to follow him, even though it was awkward being in Gil’s space alone with Justin.

I was old fashioned when it came to loyalties.

Gil hadn’t exactly made me feel welcome, and we hadn’t discussed our relationship, but there was a relationship, and this was an overstep of boundaries.

“Yes. For Kohl’s department store.” The residual jealousy that would forever be linked with that shop and the knowledge that Gil had gone there with other women fired hotly.

Justin stopped, turning to face me with a frown. “He hates those. Normally turns all commercial stores down.”

He needed the money.

I saw him beg.

I heard him on the phone with tears in his eyes.

I shrugged. “He changed his mind.”

He laughed quietly. “He seems to do that a lot around you.”

Hiding my wince, I wrapped my robe tighter. “His prerogative.”

“It is.” A stagnant pause fell. He squeezed the back of his neck, his immaculate suit whispering with fine fabric and money.

He looked so different to Gil with his paint-splattered clothing. They were from different paths, different pasts, different futures. Yet...somehow, they’d become friends.

I relaxed a little.

I might have been in Justin’s life when we were at school, just as I’d been in Gil’s, but...I’d shared a small fraction of time compared to what they had in the past year.

The knowledge that I was the third wheel these days actually gave me peace of mind.

Arching my chin at the bathroom door, I said quietly, “I can’t thank you enough for coming to my aid again. But now that I’m safe, I might take a shower...if that’s okay?”

“You don’t need to ask me. Not my place.”

“True.” I smiled. “Well, in that case.” I snapped my fingers. “Oh, no. I left my bag in Gil’s car. Along with all his painting gear and the engine running.” Turning reluctantly, I went to return outside. “I’ll be right back.”

Justin moved to cut me off, holding up his hand. “Take a shower. I’ll get everything.”

My eyes widened. “You sure? Will you be safe on your own?”

He chuckled. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Okay...” I blushed. “My overnight bag is in the back. Would you mind leaving it outside the bathroom door?”

He nodded. “Of course.” Striding back through the office and into the warehouse, he didn’t ask why I had an overnight bag. He didn’t ask why I was driving Gil’s car. He acted as if whatever was going on with me and Gil was perfectly acceptable. As if he’d known all along this would happen if we ever found each other again.

And perhaps, he knew better than anyone.

After all, he’d nursed my tattered heart and then patched up Gil’s.

He’d been the glue to our shattered pieces.

Maybe he could fix what was broken between us.

Maybe.

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Thirty-Three

______________________________

Olin

-The Present-

I CAUGHT JUSTIN’S stare as our eyes once again trailed from the TV to the clock in the kitchen.

1:13 a.m.

And still no Gil.

I gave Justin a weak smile, burrowing deeper into the blanket surrounding me on the couch. I did my best to focus on whatever show we’d pretended to watch, but I couldn’t stop worrying.

My phone rested beside me. Silent and empty of messages. Whenever I tried to call Gil—and I’d called a fair few times—none of them connected.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Justin murmured, his voice loud to my overstrained hearing.

“Uh-huh.” I nodded, running a hand through my washed and dried hair. My pyjama bottoms and hoodie kept me warm and modest after the green body paint had siphoned down the drain.

Having a shower in Gil’s space without him had been wrong.

Having a shower in the same place where he’d kissed me and couldn’t stop made my heart squeeze and concern magnify the longer Gil didn’t come home.

I missed him.

I needed him.

I’m worried.

I hadn’t told Justin that the police took him. Hadn’t told him any of it.

We’d kept our conversation to small talk and busied ourselves by making toast with the bare essentials of Gil’s kitchen for dinner—neither of us keen on leaving, just in case Gil returned.

“You don’t have to stay.” I stifled a yawn, once again looking at the clock.

Justin stretched his arms above his head, his spine cricking from sitting down for so long. “If you’re in danger, I’m not leaving you until Gil gets back.”

“But don’t you have someone missing you at home?”

He sighed softly. “Nope. Not for a while now unfortunately.”

“What happened?” I blushed. “I don’t mean to pry—”

“It’s fine. Her name was Colleen. We dated, but then she decided she didn’t like me enough to stick around and moved out.”

I slouched with empathy. “I’m sorry.”

He wiped his face with both hands before chuckling. “Don’t be. We weren’t right for each other.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone who is.”

He nodded. “I know. Just like you found Gil again.”

I huddled into my blankets. “I don’t know if we’re right for each other. And besides, reconnecting was entirely by fluke.”

“Fluke...fate.” He shrugged. “Coincidence has many names. Doesn’t change the fact there’s something special about you two when you’re together.”

I didn’t speak for a while. My thoughts back in the past when Gil had vanished without an explanation. How he’d hurt me worse than anyone. How I’d forgiven him for all of it so blindly.

Last week, I’d been fumbling through interviews all alone. Now, I burned through concern while waiting like an unwanted wife for a man who said he’d never be mine.

I huffed under my breath. “Special or not, it didn’t work the first time. Nothing to say a second chance won’t have the same conclusion.”

Silence fell for a moment while Justin stared at the TV. “Did he ever tell you why he left?”

Every muscle froze with utmost attention. “No. Do you know why?”

Would I finally get that answer? Would years of wondering be solved right here, right now?

Justin gave me a sad smile. “No.”

“But you know something about it?”

“Not really.”

“He didn’t say anything when you guys started hanging out?”

He snorted. “We don’t exactly hang out.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m there. That’s all.”

“There for what?”

“For whatever he needs.” He stood. Grabbing his empty glass from the coffee table, he went to fill it with water in the kitchen.

“Is he there for you in the same way?” I asked.

The sound of running water filled the space as Justin answered, “He’s had my back. Yes.”

“What do you think he’s hiding?”

Justin narrowed his eyes as he returned to the couch and sat. “Not really my business.”

“But you’ve wondered.”

“I’ve wondered.”

“Any ideas?”

He sighed. “I think you should ask him if you—”

“He wouldn’t tell me. Just like he hasn’t told you.”

“That’s true.” He sipped his water before placing the glass on the coffee table. “I’m guessing it’s something big. Like I said to you on messenger, there’s something in his past that screwed him up. He’s still screwed up.”

“Screwed up in what way?”

“The worst possible way.”

Goosebumps scattered over my arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means shut the fuck up and stop discussing my problems.” The harsh growl wrenched my head to the office door.

Gil stood on the threshold, arms crossed, face murderous.

Justin leapt to his feet. “Hey, mate. Where the hell have you been?”

Gil’s jaw worked as he struggled to rein in exhaustion and temper to reply nicely. He gave up, his fiery green eyes meeting mine. “Hanging out with old friends, Olin?”

Anger prickled, shooting me to my feet. “Don’t you dare.”

He rolled his eyes and stormed toward the kitchen. “Get out. Both of you.”

Justin turned on the spot, chasing him with his gaze. “What happened to you? Why are you so filthy?”

With Gil rummaging in a cupboard, my attention was no longer held hostage by his stare, giving me a chance to study him.

He still wore the paint-splattered clothing from this morning, but he looked as if he’d crawled through a hedgerow, scaled a mountain, and bushwhacked through a forest. Dirt smeared his T-shirt and jeans, mud decorated his arms and hands, and muck clung to his boots, leaving little trails of debris from his march.

A case of déjà vu hit me.

Gil had been just as dirty the night we’d had sex for the first time. He’d been beaten, bloody, and drunk.

He’s not drunk this time.

I spoke too soon as Gil found what he wanted and spun to face us defiantly. A fresh bottle of vodka hung in his fist. With a lethal look, he unscrewed the lid and swigged straight from the bottle.

With his head tipped back, injuries not visible came to light. A cut followed the line of his jaw. A bruise bloomed on his collarbone. A dried river of blood trickled from his hairline.

Shit.

Standing, I tossed my blanket to the couch and moved toward him. “Give me the bottle, Gil.”

He snarled like a feral animal. His teeth sharp and bared. His eyes wild and haunted. “Leave, Olin. I’m not in the mood for company.”

“She can’t leave, Clark.” Justin cut in. “She was almost abducted today.”

Gil froze. “What?” He pinned me with a fierce stare. “What happened?”

“He was in my apartment. When I left to come here, a black van tailed me.” Coldness settled into my bones as Gil took another healthy swig.

And another.

His body vibrated with tension but he didn’t flock to protect me or demand to know every detail. He acted as if he couldn’t care less.

As if his protective routine was over and done with. That his need for me was finished.

I struggled to keep my tone level and not wobble with sudden sadness. “I tried calling you, Gil. Countless times. But when you didn’t pick up, I didn’t have anyone else to call...so I asked Justin for help.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, well. I was otherwise indisposed.”

“I know.” I shot Justin a quick glance. “I get why you couldn’t answer to start with, but you’ve been gone all night. Where have you been?” My voice softened with concern. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I was so worried.”

I risked vulnerability.

I put everything on the line so I didn’t have to stare at such an indifferent, frosty face.

Gil’s temper blended with exhaustion as if my sign of caring was all too much. His spine rolled, and he rubbed at his eyes.

The coldness I’d read on him slipped into liquid regret. His eyes returned to fiery emeralds as his body became soft and caring.

Tripping toward me, he held the vodka bottle in one hand and cupped my cheek with the other. Not caring Justin watched, he pulled me forward and kissed me swift and deep.

I gasped at the affection. Buckled at the need.

He kissed me as if he was seconds away from killing me or taking his own life.

His tongue laced with sharp alcohol. His breath faint. His energy drained. And not drained from a long day of paint commissions, police interviews, and whatever else he’d been doing, but drained from something that ate him alive.

Something monstrous that sucked on his soul, gnawed his heartbeats, and left him with just enough dregs in which to survive.

My arms trembled to hug him. To give him a safe harbour in which to rest.

But his kiss was over as quickly as it had begun, and his eyes shuttered with fury. “I told you to stay away. I begged you.” He swayed back and tipped the bottle to his lips. He sucked down four big mouthfuls before laughing, cold and heartbroken. “I’m sorry, Olin. For everything. But I need you to leave. I...I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.” He narrowed his eyes at Justin. “Keep her safe, Miller. Please.” Shoving his hand into his pocket, he stalked to the door that was always locked beside his bedroom and inserted a key.

Without another word, he vanished into graffiti rainforests and rooms filled with secrets...with the alcohol.

The door slammed with finality.

I didn’t move for the longest moment.

Shell-shocked and war-kissed, my lips tingled and heart smoked with every layer of pain Gilbert had just fed me. In his kiss, he’d shared something explicitly real and inexplicitly complicated. With his mouth on mine, he’d commanded me to go, all while he’d begged me to stay.

And now, I was torn between everything.

Justin’s hand landed on my shoulder. “Come on, O. Let’s leave.”

I shrugged him off almost angrily. “I can’t go, Justin.” Turning to face him, I sucked in a breath. A breath I’d need for the fight I was about to endure. “I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight.” Tears glossed my eyes even as my hands curled into fists. “Can’t you see? Don’t you understand?”

His eyes danced over mine. “See what?”

“He’s breaking.”

“He wants to be alone.”

“I leave him alone now, and he won’t be the same tomorrow.”

He shook his head. “I know I said you guys have something special, but...O. This is not the time to try and help.”

“This is the perfect time. The only time.”

“He’s not going to come out of that room sober.”

“I know.”

“In all the time I’ve known him, he’s always kept that door locked.” He threw a worried glance at the barred door. “I don’t know what’s in there. I suggest you’re not here to find out.”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“You sure about that?” He leaned closer. “You’re the one who asked me if he was capable of killing someone.”

“That was a mistake.”

“I’m all for you guys working shit out, but come on, Olin. Wake up. Just because you’ve been back in his life for a few days, you think you’re the magic pill to cure him?” He laughed sharply. “I wish it was that easy. But the fact is, he’s not some school project for you to fix. He’s not gonna appreciate you staying. And...I don’t think it’s safe. He’s not a killer, but he has something warring inside him—let him fight that battle on his own.”

I crossed my arms, hugging myself for strength. “Yeah, because that method has been working so well so far.”

“You don’t know that. He actually did something other than paint and mope around the past week...he might be dealing with—”

“He had me. That’s why. I’ve been here helping him—”

“Distracting him, you mean.”

“Maybe, but is that such a bad thing?”

He sighed as if our argument drained him. “Look, it’s late. We both have a life we have to deal with in the morning. Come crash at mine where it’s safe and come back tomorrow...when he’s had time to cool off.”

“I can’t leave.”