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Emily turns her head so she can meet my eyes and there’s a striking honesty that almost brings me to my knees. Olivia didn’t have to love me. Neither did Cyrus or Eli or anyone else in the club, but they do. Somewhere deep down inside, I understand what she’s saying because what does it say about me if I do think about something more than the security company? But I shut that thought down. This club, this family...it’s all I want.
Hating that I took her to a place that bothers her, I hop off the counter and draw Emily into a hug. She keeps her arms wrapped tight around herself. She doesn’t fall into me, but she doesn’t pull away.
“Thank you for not judging me,” she whispers.
I lower my head and whisper back, “Thank you for being here...for spending time with Olivia.” With me.
“Does this mean we’re friends?” she asks.
I chuckle and at the same time she giggles. “How about it means whatever it needs to mean.”
“All right. I can live with that.”
Emily
I OPEN THE door to my room and pause when pipes squeal, then water hits the base of the shower. I stepped out a few minutes ago and like every morning when Eli’s gone, Oz gets in after me. There’s something intimate in sharing a shower. I was naked in there. Now he’s naked in there. Sweet baby Jesus, Oz naked.
With a shake of my head, I follow the scent of freshly brewed coffee into the kitchen and twist my hair off the back of my neck, secure it in a messy bun then sweep my bangs away from my forehead. I’m barely out of the shower and sweat’s already dotting my brow.
I crack the window over the sink. The loud clicking of the cicadas drifts in. Ugh. Nine in the morning and they’re already making that racket. That means today is going to be blistering.
“There’s no reason you can’t get my coffee.” Olivia enters with a home manicure set basket and is her usual ball-of-sunshine self.
“Normal people say ‘good morning’ and follow up requests with strange words like ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’” Mimicking what Oz has done every morning, I pull a mug out of the cupboard, pour Olivia some coffee and deposit it in front of her.
She picks it up and blows over the top of the mug. “Your father will be back tomorrow.”
My head snaps in her direction and then I open the fridge. She meant her son, not my dad. “Oz mentioned Eli should be returning soon.”
I dip my head into the cold air of the fridge. If I tuck myself into a ball maybe I could squeeze in there and hang for the day.
“Electricity costs money,” Olivia mumbles. “Have you figured out what Honeysuckle Ridge is yet?”
I roll my eyes, grab the orange juice and we fall into our normal routine. She asks the same question every morning and every morning I have the same answer. “Nothing yet that pertains to me.”
I fill my cup and, instead of abandoning the subject, I sink into my chair three spots from hers. “Why don’t you tell me what it is that you want me to know?”
“You’ve only been here a month.” Olivia hunts through the basket. “You’re just now starting to act like a normal human instead of a wild rabbit terrified of being shot. You and I have a lot more to learn about each other.”
I sigh and the slant of her mouth tells me she caught it. I’ve played the game with her. Literally. Every card game imaginable, and I’ve even sat with her as we flipped through endless photos of people I care nothing about. “What more can you want from me? I’ve answered every question you’ve asked.”
“This isn’t a job interview,” she says. “You already have the position of my granddaughter. I want you to stick around until you actually believe you’re part of this family.”
I am never going to discover what transpired between my mom and Eli.
Olivia produces a fingernail file and that’s when I notice the split nail on the pointer finger of her right hand. I tap the tip of my tongue to the roof of my mouth. Olivia’s left side isn’t strong.
“Can I do it?” I ask.
Olivia shoots me a glare that makes me want to shrink into a corner. “I’m not a fucking invalid.”
Won’t lie. She scares the hell out of me. “I never said you were, but this is the kind of thing Mom and I would do for each other—for fun. Fun.” I overemphasize the word. “Excuse me for trying to act like family.”
I kick away from the table, put the orange juice back in the fridge with more racket than needed, and right as I leave the kitchen, Olivia calls out, “Do you always resort to behaving like a two-year-old when someone yells at you?”
The muscles in my back tense. Who interacts this way? “Have you ever tried being nice, or is that what will cause you to melt? It must have been a bummer for you with what happened when water was poured on your sister.”
Olivia laughs. The deep one, and my lips twitch with it. I don’t understand her, but for some reason when she does laugh, I like it because it’s a confirmation I won at least one round.
