Page 103 of Not Made to Last

“All of it was real, Rhys.”

“But I don’t know that!” He takes a step forward and lowers his voice. “I keep going through every interaction we’ve ever had, trying to determine what was genuine or if any of it was, and now, somehow, I’m supposed to move forward with this and just stop questioning every move you make, every word you say….” He pauses a breath, his eyes shifting between mine as if searching for answers. “If you can tell me how to do that, how to stop feeling like I’m some kind of game to you, thenpleasetell me, because I’d love to know.”

Even if I had all the answers in all the world, he wouldn’t listen to me. “I’ve tried, Rhys. I’ve tried to make you accept who I am and what you mean to me, but if you can’t see that, or feel that, then I don’t know want to tell you…”

His gaze drops, along with his shoulders, “Then I guess there’s nothing left to say.”

57

Olivia

“Ollie?”Knock, knock. “You decent?” Dom asks.

“It’s better if you’re not!” a voice yells from the other side of my door, and I can’t help but smile.

“Dude, that’s my sister.”

I open the door just in time to see Oscar shrug, say, “She ain’t my sister.”

I tug on his arm and pull him inside, telling Dominic, “I’ll start dinner in half an hour.”

Dom starts to leave, then hesitates, turns back to us. Going by how chipper he is, one would never know that less than twelve hours ago he was passed out drunk in my bed. “Do we need to have an open-door policy in this house, because I can’t handle taking care of another kid…”

Idiot. And gross.

“Nope,” Oscar says, at the same time I say, “It’s just Oscar.”

Oscar, always the dramatic, grasps his chest, just above his heart. “Direct hit,” he groans, then slides down the doorframe until he’s nothing but a mess of limbs on my floor.

Dominic looks from him to me. “Is he always like this?”

Oscar moans.

“Always,” I tell him.

Dom nods. “Good to know,” he says, turning his back on us.

Oscar waits until he’s no longer in view to suddenly come back to life. He enters my room, closing the door behind him. Then he just stands there, looking around. “Your room’s dope,” he murmurs, then focuses on me. “What are you doing?”

I point to the open laptop on my bed. “Updating my resume.”

“So… you’re not coming back to school?”

I shut the laptop and place it on my desk. “Did Rhys send you again?” Because after last night, I’m pretty sure I’m off Rhys’s radar for good.

When he doesn’t reply, I turn to him. Lips clamped shut, he pretends to be focused on a vine hanging from the ceiling.

I laugh, because what else can I do?

“I haven’t decided,” I admit. “About coming back or not.”

Oscar nods. “It’s just that school started, like, three weeks ago, and you’ve been there for maybe four days. You’re going to get kicked out if you don’t come back soon. Belinda—I mean,Miss Turner—she’s been vouching for you, but she can’t do it forever.”

“I never asked her to.”

“You do realize who Rhys is, right? You don’t have to ask for shit. He’ll take care of it for you.” He takes the step up to my bed and throws himself on it, landing on his back. He looks at the posters on my ceiling, then says, his voice low, just above a whisper. “Speaking of Rhys… he mentioned he told you about juvie.”

I’m not surprised that he knows about Rhys’s past, but I am surprised he wants to openly discuss it. “Yeah, he did.”

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