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Prologue
“I’m not so sure what’s more terrifying,
the violent storm inside my head
or the silence.”
—Oliver Masters
Ollie
I HAD BEEN AN ARSEHOLE.
And I’d known it at the time.
You would think knowing would have made things easier.
But it hadn’t.
It had made leaving her worse.
“Ollie’s back,” a familiar voice called out. I turned my head to see them both standing there—Jake and Mia. My eyes co
Betrayal? No. Anger? No.
Something worse.
Nothing.
She looked at me, my little explosion of hope, eyes filled with belief. Only I didn’t have it in me. Instead, I turned and walked away.
It was easier, Mia.
I walked back to my dorm, and it was her footfalls echoing through the corridor. I should have known she wouldn’t have given up so easily, but I wasn’t ready to face her. Not yet. Not until I could give her the answers I knew she needed.
I’d warned her this would happen, and now that it had happened, I saw everything so clearly. How could I ever love a girl that had been corrupted by my brother?
Her hand grabbed my arm and spun me around. Before our eyes met, I knew it was her. I would always know her touch. Every inch of her had seared into my soul like a permanent tattoo—because we once belonged. Though I was gone, the pills could never erase the imprints her hands had left behind on my skin; the places she had touched.
I hoped for a co
Dammit, Mia.
“I don’t know what to say,” I deadpa
“Say anything,” she pleaded, taking my hand in hers. It was all I ever wanted before—her touch. All I wanted at this moment, though, was the silence.
Pulling away, I looked into her golden-brown eyes. I remembered it was all I’d used to search for in every room I’d entered. It was all I’d hoped to see when I woke up in the morning, praying for the golden-brown days over the dark-brown days.
I had to push her away because I would only disappoint. It was for her own good.
“You fucked my brother. I should have never allowed it to go on as long as it did,” I reminded her, which was all true. She screwed my brother, and even though our love couldn’t be tainted before, now it was. Tainted, because now my immune heart and soul lived in a world of the impervious.
“Allowed what to go on?” she asked. Despite her chin pointed up, challenging me, tears shook in the corner of her eyes, and her lovely lips trembled.
I breathed in.
I breathed out.
“You and I.”
My eyes moved past her, and the all-familiar struggle in her breathing broke like the times I’d laid her over my mattress and pleased her with the same lips and tongue that just spoke those three simple words.
She was acting strong. Hell, she was strong, and I showed her how. But I could strip her of her strength with a snap of a finger.
“Ollie, it’s the medication. You don’t mean that. You promised me,” she showed me my ring on her pointer finger, “You fucking promised me, remember?” Her hand shook between us.
“Don’t curse, darling. It’s a turnoff.” I took one step, but so did she—right out in front of me.
“Tell me what to do, Ollie. How am I supposed to remind you?” she asked, desperation twined in her tone and beaten eyes—my little desperate explosion of hope.
There was nothing to remind me of. I remembered everything.
“You can’t. It’s over. You have to let me go,” I said, forcing out each word.
She touched my face, and my entire body went rigid under her fingers. Standing at least a foot over her, I could easily pick her up and throw her to the opposite end of the hallway with little effort, yet she disarmed me with the tips of five soft fingers.
My incompetent body and helpless mouth surrendered under her touch. Even my heart went on standby, obeying like a damn fool, awaiting orders.
“Please, look at me,” she pleaded.
Only a fraction of a centimeter to my left was needed to see her, and that small effort demanded every ounce of strength I had, and I had a lot.
But it still managed to wipe me out.
Our eyes met, and despite my lack of giving a damn, my hand covered hers over my face. My intention at first was to pull them both away, but something snapped inside me.
And again, I couldn’t move.
Mia inched her way closer, lifting off her heels, and my eyes closed before her lips barely brushed across mine. She pulled away slightly, and I opened my eyes to see her.
Twelve freckles spread across her nose and under her eyes. Golden-brown eyes blazed from the fire in her soul. The sweet taste and heavenly aroma of … “Mia … ” Poetry.
An abrupt crusade fought within me.
A villain and a hero. An angel and a demon. Heaven and hell.
A rush of emotions crossed over me in an instant, and I dipped down, immersing myself in them. I couldn’t help it. She was to blame. She always had the power.
My reckless mouth grabbed onto hers, holding on for dear life. But not even her anchor was strong enough against the waves of the paralysis.
Because then it was gone.
I pulled away.
“I’m such an idiot,” I whispered, and the dark side inside laughed like it was no big deal. I looked her over, thinking about how my brother’s hands were on her. Thinking of how he had touched her. How she was his before she was ever mine. “Stay away from me, Mia.”
Five bloody words.
Despite the alarming, gaping hole it left, I walked away.
She cried out for me in the place I left her. My feet stayed in front of me, one right after the other, but the small fraction of my heart that hadn’t been corrupted by the pills screamed along with her, clawing at me from the inside out.
I shoved my hands into my pocket to clench my fists.
And I closed my eyes.