Page 40 of A Taste of Vanilla

Marley squeezes my knee. “I’ll keep my phone on.”

“So will I,” Oliver says quickly. “And I’m right downstairs.”

I look at him. “You sleep with your phone on?”

“No.”

“Then why?—”

“Just for tonight,” he says.

“Stop being nice.”

“I’m not.”

Marley stands, leaning down to hug me. I grip her tightly before letting go.

“I love you,” she says.

“I love you too.”

“We’re going to make a plan tomorrow, okay?”

I nod.

“And we will not make any permanent decisions while actively traumatized, right?”

I nod again with a laugh.

“And if Grant contacts you, you text me instead.”

“Okay.”

“And if you feel like going to Florida, you tell us and then check your gas.”

Oliver points at her. “Thank you.”

Marley kisses the top of my head and heads for the stairs.

Oliver lingers, waiting for Marley to be out of earshot before speaking. “You did good today.”

I laugh once. “No, I didn’t.”

“You left.”

“I also fled the city and ran out of gas.”

“After you left.”

“The distinction feels generous.”

“It’s important, Halston.”

I look down at my bare finger. The pale ring mark looks even starker under the flickering ceiling light. “I don’t feel good.”

“I didn’t say you felt good. I said you did good.”

I lift my eyes to his. He’s serious. No joke hiding in the corner of his mouth. No sarcasm.