Chapter 59

Ollie’s POV

For a few days, things progress without much issue. On the days I’m working, Jake doesn’t come in anymore. I change and hide my uniform before walking back home so the brothers don’t suspect anything. Well, if they know that I haven’t quit, they just aren’t calling me on it right now.

Everything is going okay, but at the same time the air feels charged, like something bad could happen at any moment. I feel like I’m just waiting for some kind of inevitable fallout.

Maybe it’s not the air but me. I’ve been juggling a second-life now, and dancing with danger. At any point, everything could come crashing down. It would only take one slip up.

I have to be careful. I need to not take so many chances.

As I sit in my room, trying to contemplate my next moves, my regular phone starts to ring. Checking the screen, I’m surprised to find that it’s Ella calling.

I haven’t heard from her in a full week. Though we occasionally text each other, I miss talking to her and getting her advice and opinions. She’s the only other person who truly knows all of my secrets, and I really want to tell her what’s been happening with me, with Wes and with Jake.

So I answer the phone eagerly and bring it to my ear.

“Ella!”

“Ollie!” she says, mirroring my excitement. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her quickly, not wanting to focus any of our conversation on apologies. I’m not mad she’s been spending time with her mom. I just miss her. “How is the trip going?”

“It’s fantastic,” Ella replies. “Oh, I can’t wait to show you all the pictures we’ve been taking.”

“You could send me some,” I suggest.

“There’s too many. I’ll give you a whole slideshow when we get back.”

“Okay.”

She doesn’t let a beat pass before asking me, “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” I tell her. “But there’s been a lot happening.”

“I don’t have much time,” Ella says. “We’re waiting for our lunch reservation.”

“Oh.” Immediately, I envision Ella, with her mom a few feet away, standing outside of a restaurant, waiting for their name to be called. I really do have to be quick if I want to tell her anything, let alone something important. I try to think of the most important things that have been happening.

My brain’s in a jumble under the pressure.

“Wes found out about –” I start.

“Oh, shoot,” she cuts me off. “I thought we’d have more time. I’m sorry, Ollie, I have to go.”

Disappointment sears through me, but what can I say? I can’t demand more of her time when she’s on vacation, especially when she has to go to her reservation.

“I’ll find time to call you again soon, okay? Hang in there,” she says.

“You too,” I say without thinking, and then feel a little embarrassed. She’s not the one who needs to hang in there. I am. She’s out having a great time.

Ella hangs up without saying anything else. The whole conversation doesn’t even last more than a minute.

Even though it was nice to hear her voice, I feel lonelier now than I did before she called. It is as if a scab has been torn off and now I need to heal again.

I look around my room and wish I had a television or a radio to help with the silence. I suppose I could get some music on my phone…

I’m not sure even that will be enough though. The only thing that could help me, I think, is a human connection. I don’t have work for a few days. I could call Nancy, I suppose, but she doesn’t know the whole of what’s going on with me.

Right now, I want to be seen. Even if that person doesn’t know who I really am.

Setting aside my regular phone, I reach for my burner phone. It’s earlier in the day. Hugh is usually asleep right now, preparing for his typically wild nights out.

But I’m not sure I would be satisfied with just sex right now anyway.

I want to talk.

That means I need to reach out to Wes.

It’s a longshot, I know, but I send him a text.

What are you doing right now? Would you be willing to meet?

I wait several minutes for reply, long enough that I set the phone to the side. Before long though, I jump as a message comes through, and then quickly check it.

Wes replied.

I’m at my art studio. It’s on the outer edges of town and there’s no one else here. No one would bother us.

Wes has an art studio outside of the estate? That’s the first I’m hearing of it, and I wonder what other secrets he’s hiding.

Regardless, even if it is on the outskirts of town, I should tell him no. It’s too risky, and I’m trying to make efforts to diminish the danger I’m in, not increase it exponentially.

Yet… my loneliness is distressing, and I want to be near him.

“He says we’ll be safe,” Scarlet whispers. “We should trust him.”

“We have plenty of reasons not to trust him,” I remind her. “Don’t forget everything he says about omegas…”

“He doesn’t know his fated mate is an omega,” Scarlet says. “If he did…”

“Nothing would change,” I say. Except that he would start treating me like someone inferior even when I’m wearing the mask. I couldn’t stand it if that happened.

Scarlet whimpers slightly and her choice is clear. I’m trying to be strong. I’ve been lonely before and I can manage, but… if Wes is right there and he says we’ll be safe, then why am I letting myself be strong?

Why not just let myself have the comfort and affection I so desperately want.

With a sigh, I lift the phone and send a new message.

What’s the address?

An hour later, I make it to the building where his art studio is. It is nestled on the outskirts of town, in a district of mostly single-story office buildings and other commercial buildings.

Wes’s studio is unmarked, on a second story above a karate studio. There’s an outside stairwell leading up to the door.

True to his word, there are very few people around. The karate studio and many of the other buildings only really see foot traffic on the evenings or weekends, I imagine, per the hours displayed in their doors.

Right now, midday, the entire neighborhood is quiet.

I head up the outside stairs to the door. I’m about to know when I notice the door is open a crack. Wes did tell me via text that he would leave it unlocked for me.

Stepping into the studio, I see that it is around the size of a studio apartment, with the only other room seemingly a bathroom off to the side. Canvases, both in progress, and empty, are stacked against nearly every wall.

There’s a giant easel with a half-painted canvas in the center of the room, facing toward the windows and the still life arranged just in front of it.

Wes is there, his back to me, painting away with large, smooth strokes.

He’s not wearing a shirt.