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“Wasting time,” Brown said, nodding toward the house. “Bad idea.”
Mal headed toward the front door, fully aware that they were all watching him. This was new for them. Hell, it was new for him. He wasn’t one for giving a shit about what other people thought. He still wasn’t. With one exception.
He pushed through the front door and went into the kitchen. Olivia, her hair slipping from the clip on her head, stood working amongst stacks of bowls, aggressively whisking something.
“Smooth?” she asked, peering doubtfully into the bowl.
“Yes,” Jessa said. “It’s all in the wrist.”
“Apparently, my wrist is faulty,” Olivia mumbled, blowing a stray hair from her face.
He could watch her all day.
“What does light and peaked look like?” she asked, glancing at Jessa. But she saw him, and everything about her changed. For one brief moment, she looked so goddamn happy his heart almost thudded out of his chest. But then her anger returned, and she tore her gaze from his.
“You know, I’m not really sure,” Jessa said, yawning, cradling Oscar in her arms. “Oscar’s finally out, so let me put him down, and I’ll come help you.”
Olivia continued to ignore him. “You rest. I’ll keep trying.”
“Need help?” Mal asked Jessa.
Jessa looked pointedly at Olivia. “I am fine. Just tired.” She stared at him. “You be careful. I get what you are doing, but it doesn’t stop me from worrying about you guys.”
Mal nodded. “In and out.”
Jessa sighed. “See you soon.”
Tess unfolded herself from the corner of the couch, nervously glancing his way before hurrying out of the room.
And still Olivia ignored him.
He crossed the room, his irritation mounting, and pinned her against the kitchen counter with nowhere to go. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t look at him.
“I didn’t think things through.”
“You thought it through with Anders.” Her eyes blazed. “You had a plan. You knew exactly what—”
“I messed up,” he ground out.
“You lied, Mal.” Her voice broke. “You promised.” She shook her head. “What do I believe now? How do I trust this?”
His frustration bubbled over. “I’m leaving.”
“I know.” She pressed a hand to her chest.
“Dammit,” he pulled her against him. He’d done this to her. “I’ll be back. Soon.”
“I don’t like this part,” she muttered.
“What?” He didn’t like the sadness in her voice.
“Being hurt by you.” Her words sliced through him.
He pressed his forehead against hers, reeling. No matter what he said, it wouldn’t undo the pain he’d caused them both.
“Don’t kill him,” she whispered. “Chase.”
