Stranger in my Ass-Chapter 298

Maxwell’s POV

For the next few hours, I watched helplessly as Olivia paced the small motel room like a caged animal. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Back and forth. Back and forth. From the window to the door to the window again.

Her phone was in her hand, her thumb hitting Kennedy’s contact over and over, bringing it to her ear, waiting through the rings, then lowering it when it went to voicemail.

Again. And again. And again.

"Olivia," I tried, standing up from where I’d been sitting on the edge of the bed. "He’s probably just busy dealing with everything. The hospital, the police, taking care of your mom. He’ll call when he gets a chance..."

"Stop," she said, her voice flat and cold. "Just stop talking."

The words hit me like a slap.

I reached out to touch her arm, to offer some kind of comfort, but she jerked away from me like my touch burned.

"Don’t," she said, still not looking at me. "Don’t touch me."

I let my hand fall, feeling like I’d been punched in the gut.

She kept pacing. Kept calling.

I stood there, useless, watching her fall apart and knowing there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Does she hate me now? The thought wormed its way into my brain and wouldn’t leave. Does she look at me and see my father? See the monster who hurt her family?

I was my father’s son. His blood ran through my veins. The same twisted DNA that had created that psychotic man had created me.

How could she not hate me for that?

My phone rang, breaking the terrible silence.

Kennedy.

I answered immediately. "Kennedy..."

"Is Olivia with you?" His voice was strained, breathless, like he’d been running.

"Yes, she’s..." I looked at Olivia, who had frozen mid-pace, her eyes locked on me with desperate hope, and put the phone on speaker. "She’s here. What’s happening? Is your father..."

"We just got to the hospital," Kennedy said, and I could hear the chaos in the background. "They’re taking him in now. Maxwell, he’s in pretty bad shape. There’s so much blood and the doctors..."

His voice cracked.

"They don’t know if he’s going to make it."

The phone was ripped from my hand.

Olivia had crossed the room faster than I’d thought possible, grabbing my phone and pressing it to her ear.

"Kennedy?" Her voice was raw, desperate. "Kennedy, what happened? How bad is it? Is Dad..."

I watched as Kennedy told her the same thing he’d told me - watched as Olivia’s face went through a dozen emotions in seconds.

"No," she whispered. "No, no, no..."

Her legs gave out.

She sank to the floor, the phone still pressed to her ear, and the sound that came out of her was barely human.

A wail of pure, devastating grief.

"I need to be there," she was saying through her sobs. "Kennedy, I need to see him. I need to... please, is he..."

Kennedy must have said something because she nodded, even though he couldn’t see her, tears streaming down her face.

"Okay. Okay, I’m coming. I’ll leave now. I’ll..."

She kept talking to Kennedy, asking questions I could barely hear through her crying, and I knelt beside her - not touching, because she’d made it clear she didn’t want that, but close enough to catch her if she needed it.

The call went on for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes.

Kennedy must have had to go because Olivia said, "Okay. Call me if... call me when you know something. Anything. Please."

The call ended, and she just sat there on the floor, still holding my phone, staring at nothing.

"Olivia," I said softly. "Let me drive you to the hospital in the morning when the storm had lessened..."

"No," she cut me off. "I don’t want you there."

Each word was a knife to the chest.

"I understand," I said, even though it killed me. "But you shouldn’t go alone. You’re exhausted and emotional and..."

"I said no, Maxwell." She finally looked at me, and the emptiness in her eyes was worse than hatred would have been. "I don’t want you anywhere near my family right now."

She stood up, wavering slightly, and handed me my phone.

Then she grabbed her bag from the chair and headed for the door.

"Olivia, please, at least wait until morning..."

But she was gone.

*****

I couldn’t sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Mrs. Hopton’s screams. Saw Olivia’s face crumpling as Kennedy told her about her father. Felt her jerking away from my touch like I was poison.

I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my phone in my hand in case Kennedy called with news.

Around 3 AM, exhaustion finally dragged me under into a fitful, nightmare-plagued sleep where I watched my father hurt everyone I loved over and over again, and I was always too late to stop him.

I woke with a start to bright sunlight streaming through the motel window.

It took me a moment to orient myself - the unfamiliar room, the events of last night crashing back over me in a horrible wave.

I sat up quickly, looking around.

"Olivia?"

Silence.

The other bed was empty, still made. She’d never come back.

Of course she hadn’t. She’d probably found a ride to the hospital last night and had been there all night with her family.

Without me.

I checked my phone - no missed calls, no messages.

7:43 AM.

I called her. Straight to voicemail.

Called Kennedy. Also voicemail.

"Damn it," I muttered, throwing on my clothes and grabbing my bag.

I tried both their numbers multiple times as I checked out of the motel and got on the road, but no one was answering.

The drive back to the city felt endless, every mile stretching out longer than the last, my imagination conjuring increasingly horrible scenarios.

What if her father had died during the night? What if something had happened to Olivia last night. God... I should’ve gone after her. I’m such a fool. What if

I forced myself to stop. To focus on the road. To just get there.

After what felt like forever, I finally pulled into the hospital parking lot.

Kennedy had texted me the name and address of the hospital at some point during my drive, which meant something at least.