Page 32 of Waking Olivia

Ever again.

I haven’t been asleep long when I’m jolted awake, realizing slightly too late that it’s Olivia I heard and that in the time it’s taken me to wake up she’s already out the door. I vault over the couch, jump from the top of the porch to the ground and bypass the steps entirely. She’s flying, halfway to the stables by the time I hit the ground. I struggle to catch her and when I do it’s not pretty, more of a football tackle than a rescue, and we both end up face first on the ground. She scrambles to get up as I roll off her, but my arm is around her and she can’t get far. She screams, begs, fights. It’s unintelligible and heartbreaking. Wherever she is right now, she’s begging for her life and she sounds very, very young.

I pull her against me, heedless of the dirt and grass underfoot, binding her with my arms so she can’t flail. “It’s okay, Olivia,” I plead. “I promise. It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you. It’s just a dream.”

I tell her these things again and again until the fight leaves her, until her eyes close, until it’s the two of us laying in the middle of the open field late at night, one of us sound asleep. Gingerly, I lift her. Her face at rest is perhaps the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. As pretty as she is in real life, what I see right now is a thousand times more compelling: Olivia, safe and trusting. Trusting me of all people not to hurt her, to help her through this. I look at that face and know I’m not telling Peter anything tomorrow. I’ll find a way to deal with my own demons.

Right now all I care about in the entire world is making sure we deal with hers.

24

Olivia

There'sa knock on the door early in the morning, and Dorothy peeks in again.

"Rise and shine!" she sings. She is just too fucking cheerful for this hour of the day, equal parts irritating and endearing. "It's your big day!"

I sit up and realize that I'm still in bed. "I didn't run?" I ask, beginning to smile.

Oh my God—if Will has solved this there are no words for what a relief it will be.

Dorothy’s frowning as she walks closer and reaches up, pulling a leaf out of my hair. "What's all over your shirt?" she asks. "And your legs?"

I look down. Dirt and grass stains.

Will comes to the doorway and we both look at him. He glances at my knees. "Sorry," he says. "I, um, sort of ended up tackling you in the grass."

I flinch and look down at my legs. Dorothy silently retreats.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

I nod. "Just embarrassed," I sigh.

He sits in the chair across from me, hands clasped between his knees. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Sure. It's completely normal to need your track coach to tackle you in the middle of the night to keep you from losing your scholarship. Did I hurt you?"

“No, but I landed on you pretty hard. I was more worried about you."

"Did I say or do anything … stupid?"

"No one is going to hold you responsible for what you do when you're not even aware you're doing it,” he replies, which doesn’t really answer my question.

"I just … I don't like having this piece of me out there that even I don't know," I explain. "I do enough stupid shit when I'm conscious."

"You don't do anything stupid," he says, rising. "In fact, you're a lot more lovable asleep than you are awake."

"So you think I'm lovable?" I tease.

"Everyone is lovable. Some of us more so than others,” he grumbles. "Get dressed. We're leaving in 10.”

Ithankhis mother as we go and she pulls me into a fierce hug that surprises me so much it nearly disables me. "I loved having you here, Olivia," she says. "Come anytime."

"Your mom is a nice woman," I tell Will in the car.

"She's the best," he agrees.

"How'd you turn out to be such an asshole?" I grin.

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