Bad Boys Do Cry

25: Your Mom

That felt like breaking and entering. Jail.

My adrenaline was still pumping through my veins as I hopped into Oliver's car and he drove off. The whole situation was surreal. One second I'm making out with Oliver Grey in his house we broke into and the next we're running away from his angry father. It sacred me to see Mr. Grey like that, I had so many fond memories of him that were now tainted.

I keep to myself in the car, not wanting to break the silence. Oliver's knuckles are white but his face is different, there was a weird glimmer in his eyes, he looks like he's about to cry. But I assume it's the moonlight shining just right on his face.

"You're not gonna ask what happened?"

I shake my head but realize that he's driving so he probably doesn't see my silent reply. I look at him anyway and respond.

"No."

Oliver nods his head and stays silent, not continuing the conversation. Looking out the passenger window, I admire the bright moon and sigh. Speaking into the silence we've been in for the last few minutes.

"Parents are overrated," I whisper.

Back at my house, I let Sarah go home and to bed. It was already 3am and I felt awful having her look over the twins at such an ungodly hour. She told me not to worry, that she wouldn't be sleeping anyway.

I walk her to the door and open it for her. She stops midway out and turns to face me. A smile plays on her lips.

"He's a keeper."

I smile and laugh lightly, turning to follow her gaze that's eyeing Oliver. He's sitting in the chair I usually sit in with his head in his hands. He looks tired, maybe even frustrated.

Sarah makes her way out and I go to stand behind Oliver. I put my hands on his shoulders and give them a squeeze. I try not to think about how muscular and broad they are, trying to be comforting instead of hot and bothered.

"He's been like that since she died."

She?

My heart falls when I realize he's talking about his mom. His truly wonderful mom that lit up any room she walked into. She'd passed away only a year ago, it was a big story for the town news. 'Amanda Grey Passes Away, Community Is Lost'. Gross headline, I hated reading the article, but I wanted to know what'd happened. It was the big juicy gossip of the year.

"Your mom," I sigh out.

Oliver nods his head. He brings his hands up to meet mine that are still on his shoulders and pulls them down to his chest, forcing me to step forward closer to him. He leans his head back and rests it on my stomach. I let out a small exhale and my heart flutters as his hair tickles me.

We stay there in silence. I don't want to force him to share more than he's ready to. The silence is comforting and I start playing a beat on his chest with my hands.

He starts humming along with me, obviously recognizing the song that's suddenly stuck in my head. Not long after, we're both mumbling the lyrics and his fingers are tapping along.

"You are, my fire."

"The one desire."

And soon enough, it's a whole ass concert in the kitchen at 3am.

"Tell me why!"

"Ain't nothing but a heartache!"