Page 18 of Chasing After You
Oliver chuckled, “Says the guy running a cafe.”
I grinned, shaking my head. “Where are the twins, by the way?”
He slid me a second mixing bowl, along with a bag of chocolate chips and a measuring cup.
“Basement.”
I shivered. “Oh… Well then.”
“You’ll get used to it at some point,” he snickered. “But hey, at least you haven’t actually witnessed anything that goes on down there.” He pointed his wooden spoon at me.
I huffed out a breath. “Yeah, but it’s still freaky to think about how someone’s being murdered right underneath my feet.”
“Like I said,” he reiterated, “you get used to it.” Oliver’s hands moved quietly as he lined a baking sheet with parchment paper. After a small gap of silence, Oliver asked, “How’s everything with your brother situation?”
“He scares me,” I admitted, voice smaller. “But I still love him. I’m just scared of seeing how much he hates me if we meet face to face.”
Oliver glanced over at me. “How do you know for sure that he hates you? What if he’s trying to get in touch with you because he misses you or something? I mean, sure, he’d be going about it the wrong way, but…” He shrugged his shoulders.
I bit the inside of my cheek, sucking up the taste of blood. There was no way Dorian felt anything but hatred for me, not after what I’d done. I’d ruined his family.
Oliver nudged the bowl toward me gently, a pitying gleam in his eye. “You want to scoop these out?”
“Sure,” I said hoarsely. I grabbed the cookie scoop and tried to focus on the dough and making even rows on the baking sheet.
“Josh…” Oliver murmured, “I haven’t pushed the question these past few weeks because I wanted you to be able to relax and be comfortable here with us, but…”
“But?”
He took the baking sheet from in front of me and transferred it into the oven. “When you first came to us about Dorian, you said that you’d done something bad. Something that he might take revenge for. And then you’re so sure he hates you. So… What was it? What did you do?”
“I—”
“Please be honest,” he whispered.
“I-I… I killed his dad.”
Oliver froze, eyes wide with shock. “You… killed… his dad?”
I gave a short nod, avoiding eye contact with my friend.
“Why?”
“I didn’t mean to,” I squeaked.
“Can you tell me what happened?” His voice was patient, soothing.
“He was choking Dorian. He wouldn’t stop… Dori looked like he was dying. I tried to push Daniel off of him, but he wouldn’t budge. So I hit him in the head with this lamp and… I didn’t think it’d kill him, Ollie. I didn’t—”
Oliver pulled me into his embrace. “It’s okay. I’m so sorry, Josh. I’m so sorry.”
Oliver’s arms were warm and steady, the cotton of his sweatshirt scratching lightly against my cheek. My fingers curled into the soft fabric at his back, and I let out a breath I’d been holding for too long.
“I keep replaying it,” I whispered. “The sound… God. I thought I was saving him, but everything only got worse. I ruined his life.”
“You saved his life, Josh.”
“But,” I said, voice muffled, “how can someone get over something like that? He watched his older brother murder his father. I could’ve gotten him off Dorian without killing him. I should’ve called for help right away. And then I left him. I killed his dad and disappeared. How could he not hate me for that?”
