Page 8

Ollie

I hate being Big. I hate responsibility. I hate adulting. I hate cooking. And I hate my father.

“Dad, I won’t get any more money for a month,” I beg. “This is all I have to survive on.”

“So, you’d let your old man starve?”

Starve my butt. He just wants more beer.

“How much do you need?” I ask, trying my very best not to cry.

“How much you got?” he asks.

I could lie, but I’m not very good at it, and he knows that.

“Three hundred and one dollars,” I admit.

“Three hundred should cover it,” he says firmly. “I’ll be waiting.”

He hangs up the phone, and I stop trying to be brave. My eyes are blurry as I send my father the rest of my money. I didn’t even get to go grocery shopping yet.

My phone rings, and I let the tears fall as I see it’s my father.

“You stingy bastard,” he yells.

“What?” I ask. “I sent everything I had.”

“Well, I only received two hundred and ninety-five dollars. Where’s the other five?”

“Dad, there are transfer fees,” I remind him.

“Well, next time, take that into account before ripping me off.”

Next time? My next client’s book won’t be ready for two months. I don’t accept payment until after I finish the work. By the time I get paid again, I’ll be dead from starvation.

Dropping my phone, I lay on the floor and curl into myself.

I hate being Big.

I want to call Ryker but it hasn’t been two days yet.

I think back to Oasis when he was so gentle with me. My heart races as I remember how he took care of me. I remember the relaxing look in his eyes as he did so.

Would I be too much for him?

I wipe my face on my sleeve, the salty taste of tears lingering on my lips. My stomach growls, a sharp reminder that I didn’t even get groceries. I hate this. I hate everything about this.

The thought of Ryker creeps into my mind again. It’s like he’s a lighthouse, cutting through the storm of my life. Just thinking about him makes me feel… safer. But it hasn’t been two days. I don’t want to bother him. What if I call and he changes his mind? What if I’m too much for him, just like I’ve been too much for everyone else?

I grab my phone, fingers trembling as I scroll to his name. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. But I can’t stop myself.

“Hi, baby,” his deep voice rumbles through the line, warm and familiar.

My breath hitches. “Hi.”

“You okay?” he asks, concern lacing his tone. “You don’t sound okay.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “I know it’s not been two days, but I just… I didn’t know who else to call.”

There’s a pause on the other end, and I panic, ready to hang up.

“I’m glad you called, Ollie,” he says, his voice softer now. “Tell me what’s going on.”

I break. The whole story pours out of me. My dad, the money, the hunger, the way I feel like I’m drowning in this thing called life. By the time I finish, my voice is hoarse, and I feel drained, like I’ve spilled the last pieces of myself.

There’s silence, and for a moment, I think maybe I’ve scared him off.

“Listen to me,” he says finally, his voice steady and firm. “You’re not doing this alone anymore. You hear me? I don’t give a damn if it’s been two hours, two days, or two years. When you need me, you call me. Period.”

My heart clenches, a sob escaping before I can stop it. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, baby,” he says fiercely. “You’re mine, and that means I take care of you. Now, do you have food in the house?”

I shake my head, even though he can’t see me.

“Words, Oliver.”

“No.”

“I’m on my way,” he says, leaving no room for argument. “You’re not going hungry, and you’re not dealing with this crap on your own. Got it?”

“Ryker, you don’t have to…”

“I said, got it? ”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper, the word slipping out without thought.

“Good,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Now sit tight, baby boy. I’ll be there soon. I hate to hang up, but I need to make a call. Stay brave for me, baby.”

I hang up, my chest feeling a little lighter. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel so alone.