Page 77 of Waking Olivia

“Pack your stuff. You’re coming home with me.”

“No, I’mnot. The Olivia Finnegan Charity Project you want to open has come to an end.”

“Pull your head out of your ass, Olivia! For some inexplicable reason, my mother adores you.” He raises his hands in the air, helpless with frustration, and slams his palms down hard on the counter. “She’s at home right now, lamenting the fact that you won’t be there, and it turns out you’re lying to her in order to avoid it!”

“Of course I lied.That’s what I do. All of you should’ve known not to count on me.”

“Is that what this is about? Because youlost?”

I swallow. “No.” My throat feels like it’s closing in. “But I’m not a part of your family and that was pretty much the end of the cross-country season, so I guess our work together is done.” Just saying the words aloud makes me feel adrift in my own grief. I won’t be seeing Dorothy again, or the farm or the horses. It’s over.

“Olivia, my mother seems to think you’re the daughter she never had. So like it or not, youarepart of a family. Believe me, I’d have chosen someone a little more even-tempered and less quick to lie or throw a punch, but sometimes you don’t get a choice. We want you there, all of us. You filled a hole we didn’t even know we had and now you’re gone and it’s all any of us can see.”

I want to scream, or lash out, but something inexplicable occurs instead. I feel like I’m about to cry. I hate that he’s mad, I hate that Dorothy is upset, I hate that I lied and that I’ve been here alone wanting to be with them. I hate that I missed them all. My eyes are filling and my lip is trembling. It’s humiliating, and it enrages me that he and his mother have made this happen. That thing inside my chest twists, too hard this time.

Suddenly he looks like he’s been hit. “Are youcrying?” he asks.

“No,” I rasp, even as I feel tears rolling down my face. I turn away from him and head toward the bathroom. “Go home.”

He grabs my arm and swings me back, into him, looking astonished and saddened and hopeful all at the same time. “Youarecrying.” His arms go around me, tucking me into him, my head just under his chin. “Livvy, I’m so sorry.”

I try to push him off and he holds on tighter. “It’s okay to cry once in a while.” My shoulders shake and I say nothing, but I no longer fight. The small explosion has triggered an earthquake, and it scares me. It seems as if there is no end to it, no bottom.

So I cry. I cry so ridiculously long and hard that it seems unbelievable to me and still the tears don’t stop. He maneuvers me to the couch and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest.

“I can’t stop,” I laugh and cry at the same time.

His hand runs over my hair. “I know,” he says. “It’s okay.”

I cry until I’m exhausted, until the weight of fatigue steals over me. I cry until there’s nothing left, and then I fall asleep.

Iwake entangled with him, the two of us curled into each other on our sides in a space not even meant for one, my head on his shoulder, his arm draped over my waist, one of my legs pinned between his. He is sound asleep. If I were a better person I’d wake him, or at least go to my bed and let him have the whole couch. But I’m not a better person, so I snuggle in and go back to sleep.

The next time I wake the room is light. I’ve turned over so my back is to his front and I can feel something insistent pressing against my ass even through my jeans and his.

I laugh. “I guess you’re awake, perv.”

He groans. “That doesn’t make me a perv. Every time I tried to move, you pushed your ass against me again.”

I wiggle and Ifeelhim groan as I much as I hear it. “Don’t notice you trying to move now.”

“If you’d get off of me I would,” he snaps. “You’re a very hard person to be nice to sometimes.”

I laugh and sit up, and so does he, bending over to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“For what?” he asks without looking up.

“For giving you shit just now. And for lying.”

“You know it’d break my mom’s heart if she found out.”

“You’re not going to tell her, are you?” I plead.

“No,” he says. “Because you’re going to come home with me and tell her your plans changed. So, as I said about eight hours ago, go pack your shit.”

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