Holding On To Heaven (Allendale Four 2)

Oliver drove, hair blowing from the open windows. I felt my own hair, the perfectly spiraled curls twisting in the wind. I inhaled, smelling the scents of fall, and closed my eyes.

I must have dozed off because I didn’t realize we’d stopped or that Oliver was no longer holding my hand. The sound of the engine rumbling to a stop, then cutting entirely jarred me awake. I looked out the front window and saw the green grass and trees of the botanical gardens sprawled in front of me. I felt the tickle of fingertips on my arm.

I turned, facing Oliver, but froze when I saw the expression on his face. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes. A deep-set frown clung to his lips. My eyes drew to where his were focused—the fresh wounds on my forearms. I yanked my arm back, but he held it, gentle but firm.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing,” I lied. “Just you know, the stress of school and everything.”

“Heaven, don’t lie to me. I can’t take it.” His voice trembled and it scared me. I scared me.

The cuts were thin, red dashes against my pale skin. Superficial would be the term, but each slash cut down to the depths of my soul. I hated him seeing them. I hated looking at them. My stomach seized.

“Baby,” he said, reaching for me across the seat. “Tell me what I can do.”

A sob caught in my chest. I didn’t allow it to move. “There’s nothing you can do,” I said. “There’s nothing anyone can do. It’s just who I am. It’s how I’m made.”

He opened his mouth to say something but thought better. Oliver was smart—quick. He didn’t work on emotion or rage like the others. He climbed over the seat, pulling me into his lap.

I wanted to fight him—to push him away like Hayden, but Oliver wrapped his arms around me and held me tight.

“We’ve been through this before, Heaven, and got through it, but I can’t help you if you aren’t honest with me.”

I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to feel something other than pain, and I shifted around so that I was facing Oliver and touched his chest.

He touched my hair, wild from the wind, and his thumb rubbed against my bottom lip. I licked the pad of his finger.

He grew hard beneath me. I felt the heat and want between his legs. I snaked my hands around his neck and kissed him again. For some reason, Oliver and I always ended up in the car like this, the two of us frustrated and breathing heavy. I reached between us and fumbled with his buckle.

He sighed and stilled my hands, leaning back into the seat.

“What?” I asked, searching his face. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because this is wrong.”

“Why? Because we’re in a car? Because I’m upset? I told the others and I’ll say the same to you—don’t treat me like I’m a baby.” I tried to catch his eye but he didn’t let me.

Oliver scrubbed his face with his hands and looked out the window. He pressed his knuckle against the glass and tapped against it, looking into the distance. The sun was no longer shining—instead blocked by graying clouds. “There is nothing I want to do more than make you feel better, but the two of us…” he swallowed, “making love won’t do it.”

“You don’t know that.” All I wanted was to feel. That was all.

“I do know it, Heaven. Something is wrong, really wrong, and I can’t just let my hormones take over and let your issues get pushed aside. Not again.”

I crossed my arms and stared at him, hard, but he never looked my way. I threw my hands up and reached for the door, climbing off his body to get outside. He followed, scrambling after me, adjusting the front of his pants.

“What are you going to do? Tell the others? Call my mom?”

“I don’t know. I’m in over my head here. So are you.”

The black hole swirled around my feet, threatening to suck me in whole. I stared across the lake.

“Take me home,” I said, walking back to the car and slamming the door.

He stood outside and gaped at me. “We’re not done.”

“Yes,” I said through the open window. “We are.”

He walked around the car and got inside. I refused to look at him. Not because I was angry, but because I was terrified I would cave and tell him everything. But what could Oliver do about my father? About Noah? A few weeks and it would all be over. I could repair the damage then.