The Finished Masterpiece Boxed Set - Pepper Winters Page 0,202

phone that judged me.

Throwing it away for the second time, I slid sideways onto the couch and closed my eyes.

Chapter Twelve

______________________________

Gil

SEVEN DAYS PASSED excruciatingly slowly.

I might not have been in prison yet, but I was trapped against my will. I wasn’t allowed to leave my room. I couldn’t care for my daughter. I had police watching my every move and listening to every doctor’s visit.

The only spots of happiness in my long, lonely days of healing were when O brought Olive to visit. Without fail, the woman who’d I’d treated so badly and done so many unforgivable things to, arrived at lunchtime with my daughter.

The first day, Olive looked tired and timid. She’d clung to O’s hand as if sleeping in a strange bed in a strange apartment had regressed her to living with Jeffrey. I’d held her close, kissed her glossy hair as she admitted that O had made her pancakes. I’d told her how jealous I was after sharing my gross hospital lunch with her, all while O made an excuse to go to the gift shop to buy me a book so boredom didn’t kill me.

I did my best to stay light-hearted and normal, asking Olive lots of questions to assess her mental health. Overall, she seemed resilient. The same adorable kid I’d been lucky enough to share my life with until a year ago.

She was older.

A little more cynical, a lot more distrusting, and wise beyond her young years, but she wasn’t too messed up from her year-long ordeal.

Thank God.

Despite her seemingly okay exterior, I did my best to pry what’d happened without asking directly, trying to determine if she truly was okay or if a psychiatrist was needed.

Olive was too like me. Too clever at hiding her real emotions behind fake ones.

If I hadn’t killed Jeffrey, I would kill him all over again for what he’d done.

Each day, I was grateful to O for bringing my child and the time alone she gave us, but I hated that, once again, I was adding more stress on her.

I wanted to talk to her.

To tell her she should leave and forget about me.

That I didn’t deserve her help.

And it fucking tore me up that she was still helping me.

After everything I’d done.

I was draining her, breaking her, taking things I wasn’t allowed to take.

It didn’t matter that I loved her.

That now I had Olive safe, my heart no longer felt guilty for wanting her. All I could think about was the closeness we’d once shared, the ease between us, and the intensity of connection.

I’d always loved her.

I would continue to love her.

And that was why she had to get as far away from me as she could because I couldn’t offer her what she deserved. Olive and I were just another accident that O had to heal from and move onto better things.

By the end of the week and seven visits of O and Olive, my body had healed enough that the painkillers had been reduced. My stitched together side no longer stabbed me each time I took a breath, and my desire to escape the hospital became undeniable.

I still hadn’t been able to talk to O alone. Olive was always by my side, listening to every word O and I said to one another. My desire to set O free dwindled with every hour we spent together because how was I supposed to say goodbye to her? How was I supposed to face what I was about to face without her?

But how could I keep her after everything that I’d done?

My heart waged war against itself, wanting to be selfish all while knowing it had to do the right thing.

O had kindly brought a sketchpad and watercolours two days ago, along with magazines and a fully stocked e-reader. However, the distractions weren’t enough to stop me from watching the news and seeing how many people wanted my head on a spike for the girls my uncle had killed.

My future was undetermined.

My freedom no longer guaranteed.

And it all came to an end at eleven a.m. on the eighth day in hospital.

I looked up as the door opened, a smile already on my face in anticipation of my favourite visitors popping by. My heart pounded harder just at the thought of seeing O. My arms empty to hug both of them, even though O never came in touching distance.

But my smile fell as the kind doctor came in, her professional nod and gentle eyes familiar now. “How you