Page 79 of Not Made to Last

“Don’t let them win,” he repeats, and before I even know what’s happening, he’s opening the door to Miss Turner’s office.

She looks up from behind her desk, but she’s not alone. Rhys glances in our direction, his eyebrows drawn, “What?—”

“Fuck you!” I yell, just as Oscar slams the door shut behind us.

“Ollie,” he says, but I’m too broken to hear him.

Everyone has their breaking point. I reached mine three years ago.

“What’s going on?” Miss Turner asks, eyes wide as she gets to her feet.

I ignore her, march right up to Rhys. “Fuck you!” I cry, finger pointed right at him. “You knew what this would do to me! To us! How could you be so fucking?—”

“Olivia!” Miss Turner chides.

But I don’t hear her. Not really. I’m lost, drowning in a sea of hurt, and because I have nowhere else to direct my emotions, I slam my closed fists against Rhys’s chest. Again and again. And I can feel the arms around my waist, trying to pull me away, but I can’t stop moving. Can’t stop crying. “How long do you think it’s going to take for someone to find out?” My eyes overflow with tears… tears that coat my cheeks with liquid agony. “They’re going to take Max away from us, and it’s all your fault!” I scream now, spit flying from my lips. And Rhys just stands there. Like a solid fucking statue. Not speaking. Not fighting back.

I break down. Fall apart in the arms of a practical stranger. I choke on my words. “Do you think my life is some kind of joke?”I push Oscar’s arms off of me and throw mine in the air. “Her grandparents died, and her mother left, and it’s just her and her brothers! Fuckingha! ha! Let’s see how much we can ruin her?—”

Rhys steps forward so fast, I don’t have time to stop him from grabbing me. One hand on the back of my head, the other covering my mouth. I breathe through my nose, my eyes wide and right on his. “Enough,” he deadpans, his jaw unmoving, nostrils flaring with anger.

I kick him in the shin.

Hard.

He winces but doesn’t let go of me. He only repeats, “Enough, Olivia.” But the way he says it—soft anddeadly serious—it solidifies every inch of my insides, hardens me, freezes the blood pumping through my veins. Slowly, purposefully, his eyes shift to Miss Turner standing beside us…

And I realize too late how I’ve acted.

What I’ve done.

What I’vesaid.

And slowly, painfully, I return to myself… return to a reality I have no control over.

I choke on a sob, my entire body turning languid in his arms. Rhys drops his gaze and, cautiously, lowers his hands. He takes a step back, and I hold still, not allowing myself a full breath. The room is silent. My mind is, too.

I turn to Miss Turner, who watches me with more pity in her single stare than I’ll ever deserve. “You have to report it now, don’t you?”

42

Rhys

I keep my eyes on Belinda as she stands behind her desk, waiting for Oscar to help Olivia back to her class. I don’t know if Olivia actually plans to go back to class, but that’s what Belinda asked Oscar to do, so of course, that’s what he’ll do.

As soon as Oscar closes the door behind him, she flicks her eyes to mine and motions to the chair on the other side of the desk. “Take a seat.”

I scoff, cross my arms. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a student anymore. Therefore, I’m not your patient.”

She returns my scoff with one of her own. “So that suddenly means we’re not friends?”

My shoulders drop, along with my facade.

“Because if that’s the case,” she continues, “then let me know, so I can tell my daughter that her godfather won’t be around anymore.”

I die a little at the thought, and Belinda must sense that because she offers a smile and motions to the chair again.

This time, I sit.

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