Page 137
Story: Branded Hearts
Fuck’s sake.
“I’m sorry,” I reply, feeling the weight of their words. I need to sort myself out, but right now, I just need to get through this hangover. I look at Olivia, the question burning in my mind. “So, you’re talking to me now?”
“I guess so,” she shrugs.
“So, what does that mean?” I ask, furrowing my brows. Olivia ponders my question for a moment, and Xavier just stands there, watching the exchange.
“Do you love her?” Olivia’s question catches me off guard, but instantly I know who she’s referring to.
“Is that a trick question?” I emit a snort of amusement.
“No. Answer my fucking question,” she insists.
“Oo, feisty,” Xavier chimes in, earning a glare from Olivia.
As I sit there, contemplating Olivia’s question, the truth hits me like a ton of bricks.Do I love her?It’s such a stupid fucking question because the answer is so blindingly obvious. One that I hadn’t been able to voice.
Until now.
“Yes. I love her,” I finally admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
“But how do you know?” Olivia questions me, crossing her arms.
Without hesitation, I reply, “Because I’ve loved her from the very moment I saw her.”
I pause, taking in a breath before continuing. “All these years, I’ve put up boundaries, told myself she was off limits, but it became too fucking hard to ignore. She’s not just someone I love; she’s a part of me, a part of my soul. And I’ll continue to love her, no matter what.”
Olivia gasps, a look of shock on her face. I’m stunned, too, by my own confession.
Xavier breaks the silence with a simple, “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Then what the fuck are you still doing here?” Olivia questions so casually.
Confusion mars my face. “Huh?”
“Why haven’t you left already? Fucking go and get her,” Olivia says, her tone casual yet firm.
Xavier chimes in, “She thinks you don’tcareanymore. It’s been a week, and she hasn’t heard anything from you.”
I’m getting frustrated. How does everyone seem to know more about this situation than I do? It’s starting to really piss me off.
“I fucking texted her. Saying I’d wait for her,” I explain, pulling out my phone to double-check that message.
But next to it is a red exclamation mark indicating itwasn’tdelivered.For fuck’s sake.
In my drunken state last night, I mustn’t have noticed when I’d checked our texts.
“She didn’t get it,” Olivia confirms the obvious. I sigh, feeling defeated.
“I spoke to her last night, though,” I add, but the words feel hollow as they leave my lips. There was no confirmation in our conversation. I feel a sinking feeling in mychest, the uncertainty of where we stand weighing heavily on me. She never responded to my messages. Olivia shoots me a sympathetic glance.
“This is what she sent me last night,” she says, lifting her phone to show me a series of texts.
“Fucking hell, Liv,” I mutter, staring at the messages on the phone. I don’t bother reading the rest, and I groan in frustration, feeling a surge of anger and desperation. “How could you not see that?” I can’t help but raise my voice, my emotions boiling over. “I loveher.” I choke on my words, shaking my head.
But it’s too late. The words, while spoken, don’t have the same impact because they’re not being said to the person whoneedsto hear them. It’s fucking devastating, and I’m left feeling crushed, knowing that I may have lost her forever.
“Oi! Listen here, don’t fucking blame me for notseeinganything!” Olivia screams back, making air quotes. “If there’s anyone to blame, it’s yourself. Why didn’t you fucking tell her you love her back, huh?” She shoves my chest. “You led her to believe you don’t fucking love her. Why wouldn’t you tell her?”
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