Oliver's Online (7 page)

Chapter Seven

Lane was woken from a deep sleep by Oliver’s thrashings. He made soothing sounds at Oliver as he propped himself up on one arm. They must have slept longer than he’d thought. Lane looked down at his sleeping lover and realized that he was in the throes of a nightmare.

“Hey, Oliver, baby, wake up,” Lane soothed. He rubbed Oliver’s chest and arms in slow, calming strokes, hoping to ease him out of his nightmare. Whatever he dreamed about, it didn’t bring him any happiness.

Oliver’s face contorted into an expression of pure terror, but his eyes stayed closed as he remained trapped in his own private hell.

“No! I have to get out. I’m trapped. I’m so sorry, Dave. Forgive me, please.” Oliver pleaded.

“You’re not trapped. You’re safe with me,” Lane assured him as he gave Oliver a slight shake.

“Dave. Don’t die. Please, I love you so much,” Oliver whimpered.

It felt like a punch to the gut to hear Oliver declare his love for another man, even a dead one, and that made Lane feel like a jerk. He couldn’t help it though. In the short time that he’d known Oliver, he’d grown to care a great deal about him.

The door to Oliver’s room burst open, and Ronnie and Patrick came rushing in. Lane rolled his eyes. Great, just what he didn’t need, an audience to his situation. All that was missing was Becca and her stupid little dog, and the picture would be complete.

Patrick brushed Lane to the side and grabbed Oliver by the shoulders. “Oliver, you need to wake up, sweetie. You’re just having one of your dreams again. Come back to us.”

Patrick had to repeat the sentence several times, but Oliver finally opened his eyes and blinked up at Patrick. “Patrick?”

“Yeah, honey. It’s me.”

“Oh, God. It happened again. Didn’t it?” Oliver groaned.

“Yeah, I’m afraid it did. This one was a doozy, too. It took me a while to get you out of it,” Patrick said.

Lane didn’t appreciate being ignored. “Does somebody want to tell me what in the hell is going on?”

Oliver gasped, as if he just realized Lane was even there. Which was really an ego booster for Lane. “Holy shit! Did you just see all that?”

“Yeah, I was sleeping with you at the time. Remember?” Lane asked.

Oliver buried his face in his hands. “Oh fuck. How embarrassing.”

Lane reached out to him but Oliver pulled away. “Maybe it’s best if you just left.”

Oliver didn’t make eye contact as he made his request.

Lane felt like somebody had just slugged him across the face then kicked him in the ass for good measure. “Are you throwing me out?”

“No, I’m asking you to leave, so I can get my shit together emotionally.”

“It’s the same thing, Oliver,” Lane said evenly, trying hard to keep control of his temper.

Here he was trying his best to help and Oliver was shoving his away. And to make matters worse, he was doing it in front of his friends. Lane got up, not caring about his nudity and began to pull on his clothes.

“Please, don’t be angry at me,” Oliver begged.

“I’m not angry,” Lane assured him.
Or at least I’m not angry much. I’m humiliated, disappointed, feeling a little betrayed and let down, but anger is the last thing on my list.

He jerked up his pants and did up the fly. Never before had he been so glad for his porn career past, which honed his ability to dress fast and without embarrassment in front of a crowd. It sure as hell was paying off now.

Putting on his shirt, but not bothering with the buttons, he next stuffed his feet into his shoes. He would just forget about the socks and call them a casualty of the war.

“See you tomorrow at work, Oliver.”

Lane didn’t even look back on his way out of the bedroom. He wasn’t going to prolong the embarrassing situation more than he had to. His hand had just touched the front door handle when Patrick’s voice pulled him up short.

“Lane, wait.”

As much as Lane just wanted to keep on going, he liked Patrick too much to ignore him. So Lane dropped his hand and turned around to face the other man.

“What?”

Patrick was dressed in a pair of plaid sleep pants and a
Walking Dead
t-shirt. While he seemed innocent enough, Lane knew he could be fierce when it came to protecting his friend.

“You need to be more patient with him,” Patrick said.

“I am,” Lane said. “He asked me to leave and I am.”

“But he can tell that you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry.”

How many times did Lane have to say that? Was he going to have to rent a plane to fly a banner with the saying of it over the house or something?

“You could have fooled me with the way you’re storming out of here,” Patrick shot back.

“I’m just a little frustrated,” Lane admitted. “I want to help, and he won’t let me.”

Patrick twisted his hands together nervously. “He feels guilty because of Dave.”

“Then tell me how. How do I compete with a dead man?” Lane asked.

When all he was met with was silence, Lane gave a nod of his head. “That’s what I thought. There is no good answer to that. I’m well and truly fucked. Aren’t I?”

Without waiting to hear Patrick’s reply, if he even had one, Lane opened the door and left. He walked to his truck, got in, but didn’t start it up. He didn’t know where to go. He sure as hell didn’t want to go home to his lonely bed. He was too jacked up to go clubbing.

No, what he needed was some answers about Oliver and that damn accident, and there was only one person that he could turn to in order to get them—Becca. As Oliver’s friend, she should know all the details, and she just might be willing to share.

Pulling out of the apartment complex, he headed to Vance’s, Becca’s uncle, where she was staying. The drive was short, and before he knew it, he was at the penthouse, buzzing to be let in.

He was met by a very sleepy, unhappy looking Vance. “Do you want to tell me why you are here in the middle of the night? Something better be on fire or dead.”

“I need to speak to Becca,” Lane said.

Vance rolled his eyes, something that looked completely off for the normally composed man. “I should have known it would be about her. Becca! Get out here. You have a visitor.”

Becca came out of her room, rubbing her eyes. She wore all pink PJ’s from the silk tank top, to the matching boy shorts. For once, her perfectly styled hair was a mess of cowlicks and tangles.

“Lane, what are you doing here?” she asked as she ran her hand over her face.

“I need to talk to you about Oliver,” he said.

“And it couldn’t wait until morning? Sheesh! And people say I’m the rude one in our group. I say the award goes to you, buddy-boy.”

“Okay, maybe I should have called first, but I’m really upset, and I need somebody to talk to,” Lane conceded.

Vance hooked a thumb in his niece’s direction. “And she was your first choice? You must be pretty hard up.”

Becca stuck her tongue out at Vance. “Go back to bed. I have this covered.”

“Gladly,” Vance said, already retreating to his room.

A second later, they heard his door slamming shut. Becca led Lane to the kitchen. “I would offer to make you coffee, but I suck at it. On the other hand, if you want to make it, you’re more than welcome.”

Since Lane did crash in on her, it was the least he could do. He got out the French Press and started to make up some coffee for both of them. Becca took a seat at the table and let out a loud yawn.

“Are you going to tell me what is going on, or do I have to guess?” she asked.

“Oliver and I slept together tonight.”

“Well, that’s a good thing. It’s about time my boy got laid.”

“Well, it was good until he had a nightmare, freaked out, then made me leave.”

“Ouch.” She wrinkled her nose. “That must have been a blow to your ego.”

“My ego can take it. I just want to know how I can help him. More important, how do I help him work past this so we can have a relationship?”

“So, what you’re wondering is how close he was to Dave and just how bad the accident was?”

Wow, nobody could ever accuse Becca of being dumb. She might act the part sometimes, but when you got to know her and got past the layers of fluff, there was one smart cookie underneath.

“Yeah, I was. Oliver told me Dave died, but he didn’t go into specifics.” Lane admitted.

“Normally, I would tell you to go ask Oliver himself, but I don’t want him to have to relive it,” Becca said with a sigh. “When he told me the details, it gave me nightmares, and I didn’t go through it like he did.”

Lane’s stomach clenched. “It was that bad?”

Becca gazed up at him and there were tears in her eyes. “They went off into a ditch and weren’t found for a really long time. The entire time, Oliver was trapped, and he had to watch as Dave died, but there was nothing that Oliver could do to help him. So yeah, I would say that qualifies as pretty bad.”

Lane clutched the edge of the counter for support. He couldn’t even imagine how horrifying that must have been for Oliver. To be trapped, helpless to do anything as the love of his life died right before him. No wonder he still had nightmares about it. It was a miracle that Oliver was functional at all.

“By the time they found them, Oliver had screamed so long and hard that he couldn’t talk for days,” Becca said. “They had to cut him out of the car and airlift him to the hospital. When they got there, there was nothing they could do for Dave. He had bled out, and they couldn’t bring him back.”

“What caused the accident in the first place?” Lane asked.

“An eight-wheeler sideswiped them and knocked them off the road. They never did find out who the driver was. He took off from the scene of the accident.”

“That bastard. If he had called it in, Dave would have lived,” Lane seethed.

“Yes, and that’s something that Oliver lives with every day.”

Lane began to pace. “Why would our having sex trigger a nightmare?”

“Probably because Oliver feels guilty about moving on. You’re the first guy he’s been with since Dave.”

“Great,” Lane ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “How do I compete with a dead guy?”

“I don’t think you can. From what I hear, Dave was a great guy.”

Lane paused to give her a dirty look. “If you’re trying to inspire me here, it’s not really working.”

She shrugged. “I’m just telling you the truth and letting you know what you’re up against. Would you rather that I lie to you and tell you that everything is going to be peachy keen?”

Lane sighed. “No, but some good news would be nice.”

“Well, the good news is that he
did
sleep with you, and for Oliver that was a huge step.”

“But the night ended in a disaster.”

“You still had a night, so that’s a start.”

“But what if he doesn’t let me back in?” Lane asked, voicing his biggest fear.

Becca slammed both of her palms on the tabletop. “You have to make sure that doesn’t happen. Oliver needs you more than ever.”

“What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you see it? You’ve been the only one who has been able to crack through his shields. Before you came along, he was just ghosting around, barely existing. You were at least able to get through his shell. If you give up on him now, he’ll go back to thinking no one will ever want him.”

“But, what if he doesn’t want me?”

“He must want you an awful lot, or he would never have let you get so close in the first place. He just panicked and pushed you away tonight. You can’t let him get away with that.”

“I can’t push myself on him if he doesn’t want me, Becca,” Lane argued.

“Maybe not, but you cannot give up him,” she argued back.

Lane let out a sigh. “I don’t know. He seemed pretty determined that he didn’t want me tonight.”

Becca got up and slugged him in the arm. “Don’t give up on him. Promise me that.”

“Ow! There’s no need to get violent. Okay, I won’t give up. Are you happy now?”

Her lips curled up into a smile. “Yes, I am. Oh, just one more thing. If you break his heart, I’m going to scoop your kidney out with a spoon and feed it to my dog.”

Lane gave her a sideways look. “You are a vicious thing.”

“Only when it comes to protecting those who I love, and Oliver is one of those who I love dearly.”

Lane sighed. He only hoped that he could convince Oliver to give him another chance. After the chilly send off Lane had been given earlier, his hopes weren’t up that high. He just prayed that Becca was right and that Oliver did still like him. If not, Lane knew he was in for a world of hurt because he'd already fallen hard for Oliver.

Chapter Eight

Oliver’s heart ached. He hadn’t felt this horrible since that day in the car with Dave. He didn’t mean to shove Lane away, but guilt over moving on when Dave couldn’t had him trying to keep his heart safe. Lane could easily become even more important than Dave ever did.

“You’re going to have to tell him,” Patrick warned. “He deserves to know what he’s dealing with.”

Oliver’s bitter laughter reflected the pain in his heart.

“You mean how messed up I am? Do you think he’ll go running away once he finds out?” That was Oliver’s biggest fear. Once Lane realized Oliver was a horrible, tragic work in progress, then he’d run off in the opposite direction.

“Hey, it’ll be all right,” Ronnie said. Oliver had to give his friend credit, Ronnie actually sounded as if he believed that.

“He’s going to understand I’m too much trouble,” Oliver said. He wished the accident had never happened. Of course, then he’d still be with Dave, and he’d never have slept with Lane.

A shiver went up Oliver’s spine. Dave had been as inexperienced as Oliver, which meant a lot of fumbling as they learned about sex together. Lane’s more experienced touch had brought no bad flashbacks because a porn star was vastly more confident than a young man fresh from high school.