Talk To Me

Chapter Thirty-One

Present

Leah stood in front of the gray couch, arms crossed, watching her brother sleep. His face was half-buried in the fuzzy blanket, his dark curls a tangled mess against the pillow. She narrowed her eyes.

"Wake up!" she shouted, taking a step closer. "Oli!" When he didn't stir, she flicked his forehead—not because she needed to, but because it was satisfying. "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!"

Oliver groaned, rolling onto his left side, and dragging the blanket higher over his head.

"Good. You're awake," she declared.

"I'm really not," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the fabric.

"We need to talk," Leah said, lingering over him, her gaze scanning his face for any sign of consciousness.

"About what?" he muttered, eyes still shut.

"Emma. The waitress from your restaurant."

At that, Oliver cracked open one eye, his brows drawing together. "Is that why you woke me up?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm going back to sleep," he muttered and shut his eyes again.

"But I didn't even tell you what I found out about her." Leah paused, waiting for a response.

Silence.

She scowled.

"Don't pretend you're sleeping, Oli. Come on!" She gave his shoulder a firm shake, not that it did anything to him. "She's selling drugs from your restaurant!"

Oliver let out a sharp exhale and sat up, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. "First of all, the restaurant isn't mine," he muttered, blinking away sleep. "Second, stop yelling at me." He leveled a tired glare at her. "And third, there's no way she's doing that. Stop meddling in my personal life."

"I'm not," Leah shot back. When he lifted an eyebrow, she shrugged. "What? I just don't want you caught up in something shady."

"Where did you even get this idea?"

"Her dad told me."

Oliver laughed, shaking his head. "The man is crazy. And you woke me up for this?"

"He's not crazy," Leah insisted, narrowing her eyes. "Is he right, though?" Her gaze sharpened. "Are you in love with her?"

"No."

"You paused."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did." She smirked. "Wait. Did you sleep with her?"

Oliver exhaled, clearly exasperated. "Why are you even asking? You already knew about the girls."

Leah frowned. "What?"

"Back in the car, you mentioned three girls—"

"Yeah, about that," she cut in, grinning. "I was just trying to force you to drive back here. I said a random number." Oliver's eyes widened slightly. "Three? Really, Oli? You have no shame."

"I'm going back to sleep," Oliver grumbled, turning away and facing the backrest of the couch.

Leah wasn't done. She walked around the sofa and bent over the couch flap, her upper body hanging awkwardly over him.

"Uh, don't do that," he muttered, eyeing her with mild horror. "It looks so weird."

The backrest pressed against her waist, making her look unnaturally bent backward. She grinned. "Talk to me, and I'll stop."