Page 83 of Our Own Light

“Nah, I don’t think so. Carl likes us now. He knows we won’t hurt him.”

Ollie’s words made Floyd’s stomach seize. Still, he held out his hand. Sure enough, Carl walked right into it, stopping in the middle of his palm.

“See?” Ollie said. “One time, I walked a whole six or seven city blocks with one on my forearm. I named that one James.”

Floyd’s stomach was still rolling in an unpleasant way. He hardened his jaw, trying not to let it show.

“What do you think of Floyd, Carl?” Ollie asked. He held out his index finger and pressed it to Floyd’s palm. Carl climbed onto it. “He’s a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

Floyd’s throat was starting to tighten. Ollie’s tenderness toward the little lightning bug was so beautiful, so funny, so kind. It was everything Floyd loved about Ollie. And yet, in that moment, Floyd hated it, too. Ollie was the opposite of Matt in so many ways.

Floyd inhaled a shaky breath. He needed some space from Ollie right now.

“I need to spend more time with my family, Ollie,” Floyd said suddenly. “I been staying here too much.”

“Oh.” Ollie’s tone cut Floyd like a knife. “Yeah, that’s, uh, that’s fair.”

“We’ll see each other tomorrow. After church.”

“I can come to church,” Ollie offered. “Or...”

“Don’t,” Floyd said curtly before catching himself and softening his tone. “I know it ain’t something you enjoy.”

“Alright,” Ollie said, looking away. “After, then.”

“Yeah, you can come over. Effie and Jo will like that.”

“Effie and Jo.”

“I will, too,” Floyd added, which was still true. “Goodnight, Ollie.”

He hopped to his feet.

“Goodnight, Floyd.”

All the way home, Floyd fought back tears. Every minute with Ollie seemed to be pushing him farther from Matt. He wondered what in the heck he was supposed to do.

Chapter Twelve

Oliver

By the time Oliver woke, it was nearly noon. He hadn’t been able to fall asleep until three or four in the morning. For hours, he had tossed and turned, unable to move past the strangeness of the previous evening. Oliver couldn’t understand what might have happened to make Floyd want to leave in such a hurry.

Normally, whenever the two of them needed to part for a while, Floyd liked to take his time before leaving. In the mornings, before Floyd left to see Josephine off to school, he liked to hold Oliver’s face in his hands and plant tiny kisses over his cheeks and nose and forehead, as though he needed to provide Oliver with enough of them to last until they could be alone again. God, how he missed those kisses now. He hadn’t even realized how much he had been treasuring them before they had been taken away. He hoped Floyd would still kiss him like that the next time they saw each other. Which, Oliver hoped, would be that very afternoon.

After washing up, Oliver cooked himself some eggs for breakfast. While they sizzled in the skillet, he prepared an extra strong batch of coffee. He couldn’t wait to see Floyd again. Hopefully, spending time together would help Oliver see that he had been overthinking everything. Ever since waking, Oliver had been telling himself that Floyd was allowed to spend evenings with his family. Besides, it had been an especially long night. Dancing had been tiring. Chatting with the townsfolk had been tiring. Oliver could hardly blame him for wanting to have a proper night of rest before church in the morning. Everything was probably fine.

When the eggs were finished, Oliver scooped them onto a plate and practically inhaled them, his body pleading for the energy. As soon as the coffee was cool enough, Oliver chugged it down (mildly scorching his tongue in the process). He left the dishes on the counter to clean some other time. Now buzzing with nervous energy, Oliver shoved his arms into his blue suit jacket before throwing on his new blue fedora, and then he hurried over to Floyd’s house.

Nearing Floyd’s, Oliver could see Effie sitting outside on the porch on a rocking chair. Josephine was kneeling in front of the steps, sketching with a long stick. Oliver caught Effie’s eye and waved. Effie waved back.

“Hi, Oliver,” she called.

Josephine looked up and smiled. “Hi, Mister Oliver!” She hopped to her feet and rushed over. “Why didn’t you sit with us in the pew today?”

“I slept late,” Oliver said sheepishly. “I missed church altogether, I’m afraid.”

Josephine’s brow furrowed as though this was very upsetting news.

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