To Love Jason Thorn (Page 29)

Stupid shitfaced bastards.

So, I stayed.

I would drop her home myself. That way I would feel better, knowing she was safe.

When they were finally done with the song, I was more than ready to deck a few guys I had set my eyes on. Dylan would want me too, wouldn’t he?

As soon as Olive got down from the stage, the guy I’d seen when I’d dropped her off at her apartment took her hand and led both the girls to the end of the bar where a few more of their friends were sitting. Heading toward them, I noticed Olive pulling her hand out of his and linking her arm with her friend’s again.

When I was almost by their side, my eyes met with her friend’s—the one she had been on the stage with—and she recognized me at once. Had someone else also recognized me? Taken pictures? Was that why Megan was calling?

When I was standing right behind Olive, her friend’s grin had become too big for her small face.

That one was trouble.

I cleared my throat, but Olive didn’t hear me, not with the stupid blasting music—none of them did. I glanced at her friend, but she was looking anywhere but me.

Sighing, I put my hand on Olive’s waist.

The touch felt familiar—maybe a little too much.

She whirled around, her hair smacking me in the face; it smelled like fruit. Edible.

Fuck me.

Not edible.

Not my little Olive.

When I was safe from the hair attack, she was staring at me with a frown on her face, then she slightly lifted my baseball cap and recognized me at once. Her expression turned from cute fury to a fucking beautiful smile.

It was good to know she knew how to handle strangers touching her: hit them in the face with the hair whip and then frown up at them until they slithered away. My only hope was that they wouldn’t carry her away along with them.

“Jason!” She beamed up at me and threw herself in my arms, trusting me to catch her.

Grunting at the unexpected weight, I had to take a step back to steady us. Laughing, I nudged her chin up from where it was buried in my chest.

“You smell soooo good,” she slurred slightly. “Did you come to see big Olive? I’m not so little any more, am I, Jason? You saw that, right?”

She looked so vulnerable and hopeful that I had a hard time finding the right words to speak.

My hand acting on its own, I cradled her face and watched her close her eyes for two seconds then softly open them up to gaze right back into mine.

“No. I guess you’re not that little any more, my little Olive.”

She scrunched up her nose. “You’re still calling me little.” Shaking her head, she said, “You need sooo much help with finding the right nicknames. You always did.”

Laughing, I leaned down to her ear and asked, “Do I, now? Would you like to volunteer to help me on that front?”

She nodded eagerly, her smile blooming again.

It was damn impossible not to smile down at her.

For a moment, we stood there glancing at each other and my smile slowly melted away.

I was doing something wrong.

I was feeling something wrong.

Then thankfully, her friend was there, clearing her throat as she put a hand on Olive’s back.

“Lucy,” Olive yelled over the music excitedly as she steadied herself against my chest and saw her friend.

She was definitely a little drunk.

I wanted to tug her closer.

Lucy smiled at her. “Maybe you should let Jason take you home before somebody recognizes him here. People seems to be looking your way,” she added, looking at me apologetically.

I glanced around and sure enough, there were a few people close by, whispering as they kept their eyes on us.

“I should?” Olive asked.

“You definitely should,” Lucy repeated, patting her arm.

“Okay,” agreed Olive and turned to face me. “You should take you home before somebody recognizes me, Jason.”

I smiled. “Okay, let’s get you home then, you little drunk.” My eyes fixed on her lips, I reached up and wiped the moisture away, dragging her mouth open slightly.

She bit down on her lip where I had just touched her.

Holding back a groan, I looked at her friend. “Thank you, Lucy. I’m sorry if I intruded upon your night. I was just worried about her.”

“It’s okay. We can do this any time, and she’s already on her way over to a major hangover, better we cut her off now. She is a lightweight.”

I could see that, and for some reason, I preferred a lightweight Olive to a heavy drinker. Nodding, I gripped Olive’s hand to steer her away from her friends, but her other friend, Charlotte stopped us.

“Here,” she said, handing me a key over Lucy’s shoulder. “Olive doesn’t have one on her.”

“Char, I love you,” Olive exclaimed, and pushing Lucy out of the way, gave her friend a big hug.

“Hey,” Lucy yelled.

“I love you, too, Olive.” Charlotte laughed a little stiffly. “I’ll see you back at the house.”

She nodded and came back to my side, holding her hand out just like she had done when she was only ten years old.

The memory hit me in the back of the head out of nowhere. When Dylan and I had found her sitting on the school steps, she was silently crying because some kid had made fun of the burn scars on her mom’s arms. While Dylan had flown up the steps to find the little shit who had upset his sister, Olive had simply held out her hand, silently asking me to stay with her.

My eyes on her upturned hand, my mind stuck in a memory I hadn’t even been aware I remembered, I reached for it, just like I’d done years before, and held on tight.

I felt more eyes on me, so I looked to Lucy’s left and saw the guy, Marcus, sizing me up with a not-so-happy look on his face.

Ignoring him and saying goodbye to her friends again, I pulled Olive out of the bar and onto the street.

Clean air.

When we reached the black SUV, Olive suddenly stopped. I looked back at her.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?”

“No.” She squinted her eyes. “I don’t think so. Where is your car?” She looked to her right and left, trying to spot my Spyder.

“I didn’t take the Spyder out tonight, that would be too telling. Come on, this is mine, too.”

“Oh, man,” she groaned, her face crestfallen as she started petting the car. “This monster is yours, too? How many cars do you have?”

“Five,” I answered, amused at her tone.

She groaned louder and her shoulders slumped, but she didn’t object when I unlocked the door and helped her in.

“You’re getting farther and farther away from me, Jason Thorn,” she mumbled as I was trying to buckle her in.

Misunderstanding her meaning, I laughed and said, “That’s because you are drunk. I’m right here. Let’s get you to your bed so you can sleep it off.”

“Let’s,” she murmured, right before I gently closed the door.

***

Our drive to her apartment was quiet as she dozed off in the passenger seat. I parked the car in front of the building and jumped out to help her down before she fell on her face. When I slowly opened the passenger side door, she was still sleeping. I was considering whether I should carry her upstairs or if that would be pushing it when some jackass drove by us and someone leaned out the window and shouted something at us.

Fucking idiot.

Olive’s eyes opened with a small frown.

“Jason?” she asked, her voice all drowsy and sexy.