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Chapter Twelve
“Once upon a time, there was a girl with a black heart and a lost soul. She was unpredictable, impulsive, never allowed anyone close enough.”
“Don’t tell me you fell for her.”
“I am … falling, that is. No one tells you about the fall, how once it starts it never stops. But that’s a story for another day, my friend.”
“Go on.”
“They said she wasn’t capable of feeling, but the way she looked at me said otherwise. They said she was better off alone, but her kiss pleaded for me not to leave. They said I was wasting my time, but my heart begged to differ. They said she was the devil … ”
“And what did you say?”
“Even the devil was once an angel.”
A chuckle comes from his throat. “How does the story end?”
“That’s the beauty of it, mate. It doesn’t. Love has no begi “You’re questioning God now?” “All I’m saying is, I would’ve given her an eternity plus a day past crestfallen.” —Oliver Masters Ollie. “Come sit with us,” Bria suggested, batting her lashes over me. My eyes landed on Mia tucked away in the corner. How did it come to this, Mia? She sat at the opposite end of the mess hall—opposite of me—alone and abandoned. Nowadays, she didn’t care about the way her hair looked or the clothes she wore. She drowned herself in that atrocious oversized hoodie that wasn’t here last year—and not mine. It was new, along with this situation we found ourselves in. “It won’t be awkward anymore now that we bumped Mia from our table,” Bria added. I blinked my gaze to Bria. Head held high and lips pursed, she looked good, comfortable under her new, unsaid ranking at Dolor. “Mia’s table,” I reminded her. “It was Mia’s and Zeke’s before any of you bothered to show Zeke an ounce of compassion.” I tilted my head. “Or did you forget?” A smirk tugged on the corner of her lip before a frown ate it up. Sighing, I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. “Looks to me you forgave Blondie fairly quickly.” My head nudged in the direction of the new girl sitting beside Zeke. “Wonder why that is. Rumor says Jude’s john bounced between the two of you and you had no idea.” “Jealous?” Bria asked, leaning over the table. Her shirt dipped, revealing her tiny bare breasts, B-cups, nipples the size of quarters but the color of pe “Walk away,” I commanded, eyes still fixed on the buffet laid out before of me. It was anyone’s guess what Bria’s intentions were, but here they were, mine for the taking. Bria laughed and straightened her posture. “My invitation still stands.” Double. Fucking. Meaning. Both a giant mistake. “Did you get lost?” Dr. Butala asked as soon as I entered his office. A white noise machine sat on a small table beside the door, humming low, and I ignored him as I took a seat in the black chair across from his L-shaped desk. Extending my arm off to the side, I waited for him to take my vitals. Dr. Butala pinched his lips together, rolled back in his seat, and opened his drawer. “Any changes since last week?” He shuffled around in the drawer, gathering medical equipment I didn’t know the names of. Since the night I’d fucked Mia in her room, I’d mellowed out. I wasn’t angry anymore, didn’t have mood swings or lash-outs, I was … just. Just living. Just breathing. Just sleeping. And just horny. “Your ticking is gone.” My fog lifted, and my focus returned to him. “My what?” He pulled up a chair beside me and wrapped the plastic around my bicep. “The bouncing of your knee. It’s gone.” “Oh, yeah … would you look at that … ” I hadn’t even noticed. Had I finally found the calm? The eye of the storm. It was nice here. Like a cyclone, chaos circled me, but it couldn’t touch me. I’d finally entered a place where I felt nothing at all. If only my brain could pass the message along to my throbbing dick. Dr. Butala pumped the black bulb as the plastic clenched tighter around my arm. Words took a hiatus as he locked eyes on his watch. Tick. Tick. Tick. The beating in my arm labored against its constraint. Then the ripping of the velcro snapped me out of the zone. “Vitals look great,” he offered, returning to his chair behind his barrier. “I think we have you under the right dosage of medication and found a combination that works for you.” “Brilliant.” Tap. Tap. Tap. Dr. Butala entered notes into the computer. His brown eyes hid behind his glasses. “And the … erections?” he asked low under the white noise, not bothering to return his gaze to me. “All cured,” I lied with my palms in the air. His shoulders rolled back. “Good. I was begi I lifted a brow in the air. “Psychological?” “Well, yes. The brain is very complex. I can do my best to balance the chemicals, but childhood trauma can’t be undone. I’m going to make you an appointment with Dr. Conway.” “I’m good.” “It’s not an option.” I shook my head and raised from the chair. “Sounds fantastic, mate.” “Great,” he bit back with stone features. “Tomorrow it is. Be there at two.” I threw a thumb in the air before heading toward the door. “And Oliver?” Pausing with my hand on the doorknob, I waited without turning to meet his gaze. “Don’t be late.” Cracking open another can of Schweppes, I laid back over Zeke’s mattress with my eyes glued to the back of his head and my ears pi The poor kid had been hard at work piecing back together the destroyed origami rose. I told him it didn’t matter anymore, but stubborn Zeke was determined to fix my mistakes. I threw a pillow at the back of his head to get his attention. Zeke’s head snapped back to face me with his brows knitted together. “Let it go, mate. Relax. Watch The Office,” I suggested with my hand pointed toward the telly. Zeke shook his head and returned to the puzzle before him at his desk. “Your loss.” The Schweppes hit the back of my throat, bubbly and kindling the mint in my gum. Crazy to think just a year ago I had pla Oscar had told me what happened. Said he’d overheard Zeke’s story in the breakroom, and how Zeke had been here since he was no older than seven or eight, abandoned on Dolor property like an unwanted pet. Instantly, I took to the kid. Got to know him, learned his language. Zeke had a heart of gold, and an old soul mine related to. Somehow, we clicked. He didn’t remember much of his past and made a home here.
