Oliver (This is Our Life Book 3) by F.G. Adams

Author:F.G. Adams [Adams, F.G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-04-04T18:30:00+00:00

15

Fallyn

“Dreams are for fools,” my father’s haunting voice whispers. “You make your future, Fallyn. Not by wishing but working hard. Get your head out of the clouds and back to reality.”

What did I know about dreams? The sky’s the limit when you’re sixteen going on twenty-one. I didn’t wear rose-colored glasses growing up in my father’s house, but I still hoped for more.

I glance to my left side, where Oliver is driving. The serious expression plastered on his face the last ten hours drives home the proposal Keagan and Oliver suggested before we left Rescue.

I gave them both hell!

Allow someone else to protect and care for Harper?

Not gonna happen, right? Through her entire life, I was the only constant, and just like Thelma and Louise, Johnny and June, or hell, even Batman and Robin, we stick together.

The thought of not being able to reach out and touch her frightens me more than Roman ever has. Then Keagan calmly explained their plan. Harper wouldn’t be in harm’s way. I made my decision rather quickly after that. I had no other choice but to go along with them. I accepted the fact; what they proposed was far too dangerous for her to be around.

We’ve stopped only for food and gas. I’ve dozed on and off, but Ollie hasn’t slept a wink. I’m not sure how he’s functioning. I study his profile, and guilt surfaces. He’s only trying to help me. I just don’t understand why he kept knowing my past a secret.

“Fuel’s getting low. There’s a place we can stop about thirty miles south and rest a bit. You wanna grab something to eat? You didn’t eat much earlier,” Oliver mentions, concerned.

“Whatever,” I bite back; a brick wall shields my heart to protect me from any further disappointment. “You’re the one driving, not me.”

He groans.

“You gonna carry that grudge for much longer, Vixen?”

I shrug and look out at the landscape flying by. The built-in defense mechanism is my way of handling things—survival. The snippy gestures engrained in me from dealing with an abusive father growing up.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll let you know when I decide.”

“Damn, woman. You’re meaner than a junkyard dog for making me sweat like this.”

“Hmph. So, now I’m a dog? Wow, Ollie, you sure know how to charm the socks off a lady,” I sneer and lift my hand to my aching forehead.

“According to my momma, I was born this way.”

He chuckles and switches lanes of traffic.

“And you are as far from a dog as Timbuktu is from here. You know exactly what I meant, by the way. You’re vicious when provoked, lil’ Vixen.”

“That would be smart of you to remember, Mr. Bishop.”

He doesn’t respond, and silence reigns as we ride down the Interstate to God only knows where. I wasn’t privy to that information; all I know is, I’m ready for a nice hot shower and a change of clothes.

Sometime later, I walk through the door of motel hell. I’ve watched enough scary movies to know this one resembles the Bates Motel.

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