Ceaseless Chains Copyright © 2020 xXMopelXx All Rights Reserved.

Chapter posted - August 21, 2020

Thank you to everyone who read Endless Bonds's conclusion last week! I can't believe the story came to an end but here we are! I read all your sweet comments and will be spending the time this weekend to answer you. ily <3

Playlist Song: Jhene Aiko - Born Tired (everyone needs to hear this song)

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C H A P T E R  8

Teagan

The building was saturated with a pungent smell, a vivid mixture of BO, garbage, and food. Cher and I descended the staircase as quickly as possible, before gulping large mouthfuls of clean air when we burst through the entrance doors.

"Teagan, no way in hell." Cher gathered her bronze strands in her fingers to form a ponytail. She was still mildly gagging. "That place is not it."

We padded further down the dingy parking lot, where my BMW – the only thing my parents' had allowed me to take when leaving – was safely tucked in a corner spot. I still had my sleeve covering my mouth and nose.

Apartment hunting was a bitch. We'd just had another one shown to us five minutes ago. After holding our breaths and smiling wide and saying we'd be in touch, the verdict was clear: fucking negative.

I unlocked the car and we both got in. "You're right."

Cher chuckled. "'Course, I am. Admit it, babe. The last six places have sucked."

I tucked my left-hand knuckles against my mouth. "I know. This is bad."

I felt hopeless. Everything I could seemingly afford wasn't working out. Even those places with a far distance from work or a cheap, sketchy neighborhood. I was running out of options.

"You know, there is still one more place to check out."

I turned the car on, and Jhené's sweet voice blared through the speakers. "Where?"

"Oliver's condo."

I closed my eyes, having tried avoiding thinking of that option. "Cher."

"Tee," she groaned. "Think about it. His place is at a prime location and you know him, so it wouldn't be awkward."

But it would be awkward because it's Oliver and I. Our last few encounters had left me wondering where we stood. Friends? Acquaintances? I didn't really know.

And that scared me a little.

But still I took in Cher's words and not just at face value. "Where does he live?"

She gave me his address and I was mollified to find out that his condo was, indeed, pretty darn close to everything I needed. Fredview strip, my friends and shit, even my parents. However, the latter was irrelevant now.

"Did he tell you how much he's asking?"

She told me. It was really doable.

"Cher, it's just our history is so..." I sighed. Where do I begin?

Cher's blue eyes danced with a smile. "Tee, what he felt for you nearly half a decade ago is nothing. You were teenagers. Puppy love. He got over it. He heard you thought he hated you, but he didn't. Yet how could he tell you otherwise when you were miles away, no means of communication? But time buried the hatchet. Plus, I've seen an improvement in the last few times we've hung out. You're both making an effort and putting the past behind. I think you guys have a chance at mending your friendship."

I distinctly remembered Trent telling me something similar. Oliver and I just didn't know how to act around each other, old dead feelings be damned. I figured that much. But Cher was right, there was an improvement in our encounters recently. Maybe friendship was a possibility?

But living together was just another curveball I wouldn't know how to handle. That's what I thought anyways.

"I guess you make a valid point."

She was thumbing away at her phone. "Amazing. By the way, Oliver invited you and I to lunch so we're going to his place instead."

My knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "Cher, no." We had plans to check out a new pizzeria.

"We can't say no to him. It would be rude, Tee."

We were really doing this. I reluctantly put his address into my GPS.

"Did he really invite us, or did you self-invite us?"

Cher let out an evil cackle that bounced in my car. "Does it matter?"

* * *

Oliver lived in a pleasant neighbourhood. Family-oriented like he said. A strip mall and library hung close by. Le Petit Moulin and 1001 Nights were just a short drive away.

The outside of the building had a nice courtyard with a manicured lawn and beautiful oak trees. The back of the building housed a couple of benches and outdoor swings, surrounded by flowerbeds and hedges. I could imagine children playing here and adults lounging in the sun.

Oliver lived on the fourth floor. His venue got bonus points because it was fairly new and didn't have that disgusting sewer smell we'd sniffed earlier.

The ride up the elevator was tense – on my part, at least. Cher was whistling and checking her reflection in the black mirrored walls.

When we stepped in front of his doorway, Cher pushed aside his front door mat and plucked out a key. If you asked me, not a good place to hide an extra set.

"Shouldn't you be knocking?" I hissed, already feeling anxious about barging into his personal space – his home – when we barely had a relationship.

Cher shrugged. "Trust me; Oli won't mind. He keeps it for us."

She opened the door and we stepped inside. In an instant, I was assailed by a soft laundry scent lingering in the air. But before I could evaluate his condo, the sound of thumping footsteps resounded along the floorboards and a freshly showered Oliver emerged from the hallway.

Shirtless. Barefoot. Low slung black sweatpants. A t-shirt in his hands.

"Holy shit!" he shrieked at seeing us.

"Surprise!" Cher yelled back with enthusiasm, waving her arms in the air.

I didn't say anything, save for my pinched smile, when Oli's eyes tagged my face. I swallowed hard, a little not okay with his nakedness.

We were so used to being blinded by images of hairless men on social media that I'd forgotten for a second that men actually had hair. Oliver's tan arms and pecs were lightly dusted with a very fine coating of hair, and I tried to steer my gaze away from the ones that made his happy trail...and led in places I had no business thinking about. In broad daylight, I noticed another tattoo. Underneath his right collarbone, two words in simple black ink were written: die living.

I wondered if he had more...

Oliver cleared his throat and threw his shirt on when he caught me eyeing him. The white material grew a little wet near his chest from the evidence of his shower.

"Hey," he said, brows drawn.

"Hi," I replied in my most nonchalant manner.

"Helloooooo!" Cher chimed in, like this was a contest.

She bounded up to him and looped her arms around him, hugging tight. "Thanks for inviting us for lunch. We're starved."

He laughed and the sound was throaty but boyish. It transformed his whole face from the usually stoic mask. Oliver crushed her back in a bear hug.

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hug him next, but Cher thankfully clutched his hand and started dragging him to the kitchen. "Feed us! Feed us!"

He glanced over his shoulder at me as the little troublemaker led him forward. "What are you waiting for? I ordered you girls pizza from the new place you wanted to check out."

And he snagged my hand, tugging me along like we were on a choo-choo-fucking train.

My heart, embarrassingly enough, responded to the touch like I was twelve again – when Oliver Ashford was the only thing I could ever see.

* * *

Oliver pulled out two chairs for us at the island counter. His kitchen was state-of-the-art, looking like it came straight out of a home décor magazine. Stainless steel appliances, gold and white marbled counter surfaces and every other accent was crème colored. A disaster was waiting to stain all that immaculate perfection, but I loved it.

He engaged us in small talk as he plucked out plates from his cabinet. There were already two boxes of hot pizza sitting on the counter for us. Cher and he seemed to be going on about one of her classes and something to do with her friend Gabe. I was just sitting there with my hands on my lap, trying not to twiddle my thumbs.

From my vantage point on the kitchen stool, I could admire the open space concept of his condo. It was spacious, free-flowing, and calming in a sort of way. There were no walls in the kitchen, just a partition made with a stained black and silver glass. A modern style stunning chandelier hung low from the rafters in the dining space, which eventually merged together with the living room in one huge area. Most of the furniture was leather black, including the L-section couch. The dining room table had forest green suede upholstery. Copper accents like pillows, centerpieces and frames were scattered around, bringing the place together. One wall was painted an emerald green to accentuate the rest of the place, while the reminder was an off-white. Despite feeling like it had a woman's touch – I knew Tara had helped him out after his ex left– it was all masculine and completely Oliver.

I was so lost in thoughts that I didn't realize Oliver had already dished out our food. When I looked down at my plate, I saw two and a half slices of vegetarian pizza. Two and a half. He remembered. I could never make it to three slices. I got stuffed by the time I finished nibbling half of the third. When we were young, he used to roll his eyes at me and eat my leftovers.

"Sorry, they didn't have the option to put pineapples," he said sheepishly, taking a seat beside Cher, right across from me.

Sorry? Oliver, you're tugging at my heartstrings by showing me you haven't forgotten the things I thought you did – the things that made us.

I gave a weak smile. "All good."

Cher scrunched her nose. "Ew. I can't believe you like fruit on your pizza."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it."

Oliver bit into his slice politely. He chewed and swallowed before speaking. "Yeah, Cher. Ever had pizza for dessert?"

Her look of horror intensified. "Um, no. What are you guys talking about?"

"It's lathered with chocolate instead of tomato sauce and has fruits and marshmallows on it."

"Okay. That sounds delicious. But you're talking about putting pineapples with meat and veggies. Gross."

"Like she said," Oliver mumbled, giving me a secret smile. "Don't knock it 'til you try it."

This felt like our old banter. Oliver taking my side and teasing everyone else. I ate quietly so I didn't have to say anything. Cher looked pleased at our exchanged if the self-satisfied grin was any indication.

Oliver cleared his throat after awhile. He wiped his fingers on a napkin and dabbed his mouth for any remnants. "How was Boston, Tea-Party?"

My lips twitched. He hadn't called me that in awhile. No one had. "You've been waiting to use that one on me for awhile, eh?"

"Guilty." His eyes danced with amusement as he bit into another slice.

Cher watched our exchange with barely repressed excitement. Maybe I should give her some popcorn to go with that.

I appreciated that Oliver was trying to have a semblance of a conversation. After all, no one knew what happened in Boston and I wanted to keep it that way. But I couldn't be mad at him for asking about my time away from home. It was a safe enough question in his defense.

"Harvard was good. I made some friends." I also made a lot of enemies. "Worked and studied hard, had a few emotional and mental breakdowns from the course load. That's about it. I needed a break, so I decided to take some time off and come back home."

"I see," he said. "So you had a year left? What was your major?"

"Yeah roughly a year. Give or take. And Economics. I was hoping to get into Harvard's graduate program for business afterwards."

"Cool. So what's your plan now?"

I felt uncomfortable answering all these questions because I didn't have the answers. I was practically chased out of Boston. I couldn't tell any of them this. I could, actually, but I wasn't up for drowning in their pitiful stares. It was bad enough that Trent knew a small chunk – my abortion. But that was only a small part of the story.

"Don't really have a plan." I shrugged, and that was the partial truth. "I think I want to change my major anyways so... We'll see how it goes."

Cher perked up, shoving a few fries in her mouth. "No way. To what?"

I blushed a little. "Law? Maybe Finance? I'm not sure. But I'm hoping this year can help me figure out something."

"Ahh." She clicked her tongue, reminding me so much of Trent. Guess he really rubbed off on her in these small ways.

"I think you'll figure it out. You're young. Don't pressure yourself. No one says you're supposed to have your life together in the next few months. Take your time." When he said this, a faraway – almost disturbed – look perched on Oli's face.

The rest of the lunch was carried in silence that was broken by random questions Cher shot at us.

My mind was in another realm. I finished my food mechanically, but my thoughts raced over last year and the events that led to this moment.

If I could go back in time, I would sock Mason Sullivan, my biggest mistake in life. Bet you my whole savings account that the bastard was getting the last laugh with his fucked-up friends.

Lessons learned from the biggest shitshow moment in my life? 1) Never date a younger guy. 2) Stay away from boisterous jocks who thought only with the head between their legs. 3) The Irish rule Boston and it's their word against yours.

"I'm going to make a quick phone call. Is that okay?" Cher asked. She got up to bring her plate to the sink.

Oliver nodded. "Yeah sure. You can go to the balcony if you want privacy."

I helped him throw away the boxes of pizzas and load the dishwasher with our dirty dishes. Cher was still in the middle of her call and didn't look to be ending anytime soon.

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet. Oliver angled his body towards me as he closed his fridge, handing me a bottle of water. "You want me to show you around my crib?"

"Okay." I uncapped my bottle and took a swig.

He led me out of the kitchen and showed me the common area. "I love what you've done with it."

"Thanks. Tara and Cher helped a lot. They nearly had a heart attack when I dragged them to Ikea and picked everything black."

I chuckled. Of course, they would.

The hallway was a little bit narrow. On the right side, there was a small door that led to the laundry room. We walked further down before it split into two: one door on the left and one on the far right. The right-hand door was the guest bedroom. It was decently sized, with a low queen bed and wooden frame. One-night table and a corner desk. There weren't any curtains or blinds. It was pretty plain, but it was marginally bigger than Elsie's place. Even I had to admit his condo held a huge appeal. Much better than anything I'd previously visited.

"There's not much to it." Oliver scratched his stubble. "I figured once I got a roommate, they could do with it what they wanted." He pointed a finger at another door, next to the closet. "This is the adjoining bathroom. Unfortunately, I only have one."

We stepped into the bathroom. It housed two sinks with enough space between each other. Sufficient cabinets. A small standing shower in the corner and, god bless, a free-standing tub that would be perfect for a soak after a long day's worth of hard work.

"I promise, I don't leave the seat standing." He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter as I observed my surroundings.

"That's comforting," I quipped. The bathroom had it's charm as well. Same gold and white marble aesthetic but with grey and plum accents. There was a beautiful painting behind the tub – two black silhouettes walking in the rain, surrounded by trees and lampposts, colored in various shades of purple.

"Your mother painted this," I remarked. I recognized it because it was a painting she had hung in their childhood home.

"Yeah. One of her last works."

"So beautiful." I stepped forward and grazed my finger pads gently over Aayana's white signature. I glanced at him over my shoulder. "I love that you've paid homage to her. I noticed a few other paintings in the living room. Are they all hers?"

"Yes," he spoke gruffly, keeping his eyes downcast.

"You must miss her a lot."

A sardonic twist graced his mouth. "Some days more than others."

We gravitated towards each other and before I could do something stupid like get emotional and hug him, I snapped out of it.

He cleared his throat again. "You want to see my room?" The bitterness was gone and in its place was a cheeky look as he wiggled his eyebrows. "The left side door in the bathroom leads to mine."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm good, Oli."

I didn't want to see his room because it felt too intimate. Too soon. Too much.

"If you say so, Tee."

"So..."

"So will you consider it?" he asked me, shifting again. "Besides sharing a bathroom, there's enough place here. You have your own privacy and I have my own."

It wasn't a tough decision to make. I knew his asking price, and his home was beautiful. The best part was I could see myself living here. I knew for a fact that I would love it more than my cousin's place, which grew claustrophobic at times.

"I'm going to consider it," I told him. But I didn't want to give him an outward yes yet.

"I'll right. Give me your number just in case." He typed something on his phone, before handing it back to me. I plugged my number in, but instead of my first name, he planned to save me under Parisa.

"No one calls me that anymore."

"That's a shame."

Precisely thirty seconds later, Cher found us. She said she needed to go home to her mom. So after saying goodbye to Oli, we were on our way.

* * *

It was past 8:30 pm and I was laying down on Elsie's couch, my legs hanging off the end. I had the rare evening off because Elsie knew I had to figure my moving situation. I texted her earlier that I'd seen Oliver's place and it was most likely a hell-fucking-yes.

Oliver sent me a text message the minute we left, so I had his number. I was debating texting him an acceptance to his offer, but it felt too formal and unprofessional at the same time. Not that there was a correct way to do this.

Can I call? – Teagan

Yes. – Oliver

He picked up on the third ring. His raspy voice echoed on the other side, like he just woke up from a nap. What was it about guys and their sleepy voices? Oliver's had to be the sexiest I ever heard. "Hey."

"I've made a decision," I said as a way of greeting. "I'll take it. But I just want to be clear of what you expect from me as your... tenant."

He explained to me I would owe him a monthly payment, on the first day of the month. Cash or transfer. I would sign a year-long lease with him. We were both to clean up after ourselves, but he didn't doubt in my ability. He knew, from the past, that I was a clean freak. He relayed Grayson would come on certain week nights and sleep over every other weekend, where he would either take Oliver's bed or the couch in the living room. Of course, I had no objections. Everyone deserved to be close to their families.

"He's a sweet kid. He deserves to spend more time with you."

Oliver made a humming sound in agreement. "My grandparents take good care of him, but he's lonely. He keeps saying he's suffocating, that he has no one to talk to. Even at school he's a bit of a lone wolf. He barely talks to girls and he has two online friends who are both gamers. I'm scared that eventually these thoughts he's having will lead to something scarier. I want to put a stop to this, while I still can."

I was surprised by the admission, that he was revealing this much to me. He'd given me a small tidbit after my performance, but now I could fully understand the depth of Grayson's need.

"He just misses you. While he loves his grandparents, they can never replace his parents. Or his brother. Being around you gives life to that missing connection."

"I knew you would get it. You're still close with your little sister, right?"

Because he'd given me a new layer of himself, I decided to do the same. "I haven't seen Mina in four years." She was the same age as Grayson, thirteen, so he could do the math.

"What?" he sounded alarmed. I heard rustling on the other side, like he was sitting upright. "You haven't seen her since she was nine years old?"

I picked at a none-existent piece of lint on my leggings. "No. I'm not sure if anyone told you, but my parents pretty much disowned me after high school. They deemed me to be a bad influence, so I was not allowed to be in touch with Mina. I packed my bags and ran away to Boston to start over again."

"Fuck, Teagan. I'm sorry to hear that."

I said nothing. Sorry didn't do much for me anymore. My heart, which I'd tried to blacken, still longed for my sister. Even my parents, to a certain extent.

"Why did this happen?"

Should I tell him? Will it cause a rift between us, bringing up the past? "They found out about me and Blake. Called me a disgrace. Said good women didn't spread their legs for men before marriage. From there on, I was running on borrowed time. After I turned 18, I had to leave their house, or they would kick me out. They could barely stomach looking at me. I guess I should be glad that my grandparents left me some money. Really, it was the only way I could afford schooling."

Oliver didn't even comment on Blake, instead he jumped the gun on my parents. "What the fuck, man? I knew your parents were cold, but I didn't know this. Shit, Teagan. You didn't deserve that."

My throat thickened with discomfort at his comfort. I never expected Oliver, out of all people, would be the one to give it to me. "It's okay."

"It's not. But I'm still sorry. You fucking who you want before marriage doesn't make you a whore. It makes you a free woman with your own damn choices. If you want to have threesomes every night to feel empowered, so be it. That's your prerogative. No one can say shit to you. Fuck your parents for doing that to you at seventeen. You were in love."

"I wasn't in love with Blake," I rushed out, my heart rejoicing at what he said. "I was infatuated with him; it was a simpler kind of love. But when I think about it, in retrospect, it wasn't worth all the consequences. Not when I haven't hugged my sister in four years."

"I thought my grandparents were bad but your folks –"

"–Take the prize," I finished his sentence, with a humourless laugh. "They were more concerned with the image it would project at the yacht and golf clubs. The Hamptons. Any fucking business deals they had with the MacCabes or other families if news that their daughter was a whore got out."

"You're not a whore," he growled. "Stop saying that."

My hand poised midway to my hair. "You thought I was one too."

He released a sound – a groan the mixture of pain and self-deprecating. "Darling, I never thought that about you. Trent said the same thing to me a few months ago. Is that how lowly you think of me? That I could call you something so vile like that?"

"Everyone thought it. I figured–"

"–That I was no different?" He let out a soft sound. "I guess I never gave you a chance to believe otherwise. I never spoke to you during your senior year of high school while I was in college. And with time I just–"

"–Forgot about me. I know."

"You're unforgettable," he whispered. "I don't give a fuck what anyone says. When people know the real you, you linger in their hearts, Teagan."

"Oliver..."

"Forget what others say. I'm hearing your voice right now and I'm saddened that you believed that. A whore. That means you entertained such disgusting thoughts about yourself. That's wrong, Teagan."

My eyes stung with tears, but I held them at bay.

"I wish I called you. All those years ago. To say that I didn't hate you. I was drunk the night of Jared's party and I was feeling some type of way, so I said what I –"

"–We don't have to talk about that night. Please. I know you didn't mean what you said, because you were under the influence. I gathered you were embarrassed and just wanted to avoid me afterwards. It was a weird night. Shit got out of hand," I said quickly, but he heard the tears in my voice. Our scale was disbalancing, and I was terrified to revisit the past. "It's alright. Thank you, Oli. For everything you've said. You have no idea how much I've needed to hear this – to know you don't hate me."

"I could never," he vowed.

I wiped the tears streaming down my face. "So it's settled. I'll start packing tomorrow."

We agreed on a time and date. Two days from now. I didn't have many belongings at Elsie's, so I could probably be done moving in a few short hours.

"Goodnight, Teagan."

I smiled, but it was watery and shaky. Thankfully, he couldn't see the mess I'd turned into. "Goodnight, Oliver."

But he could hear it.

For the first time in four years, it felt like a heavy burden compressing my chest lifted. My body expanded as it sucked in a huge breath, and then finally released every toxic, self-hate thought I'd nurtured towards myself.

If only I could expel the other bad shit running laps in my mind forever, I would feel lighter.

But demons always came out at night to play.

And in the after hours? My mind was their favorite playground. 

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A/N: It's happening! My babies are going to be living together. What were your thoughts on Teagan and Oliver's dynamics - them bridging, in particular? What do you think happened to Teagan in Boston?

PS: If you have a ship name for them, comment here :)

Twitter: MajestyMarzy

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Chapter goal: 390? x