Page 64 of Tangled in Vows

My first knock stays unanswered. My second one gets a low murmur in response.

I grab the door handle. “Are you decent?”

I’m not sure why I ask. At this point, my worry over her safety is battling my attraction to her, giving my mind a run for its money.

An affirmative hum sounds through the door—at least it sounded affirmative to me—and I open it.

Olivia’s on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The moment I enter, she closes her eyes, keeping them shut as I approach. But even from across the room, I can see the red tip of her nose and her blotchy face.

What the hell?

My muscles tense, and I rush the rest of the way. “What happened?”

She doesn’t move. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Shit. I can deal with angry Olivia any given day of the week. I’m used to her turning most emotions into anger; she’s alwaysdone that. Is she sad or disappointed about something? She doesn’t retreat like others might. She attacks, not holding back her anger. She calls people out, refuses to back down, and tells people no if challenged.

It’s something I had to coax out of her after we met. I loved the relieved look in her eyes every time she was able to let out all of her pent-up emotions.

Her aunt is to blame for that. Olivia once mentioned that if she told her aunt no, her face would turn so red, she thought either her head would explode, she might strangle her, or dump her somewhere in the middle of nowhere. After a while, her aunt had enough of her antics and simply locked her away until she saw reason. Reason being agreeing with whatever her aunt said.

And she spent almost six years with her aunt. For six years, she wasn’t allowed to be who she truly was.

That’s why I don’t mind if she’s angry, like in the club bathroom when she yelled at me for leaving her.

But I don’t know how to handle this crushed, withdrawn, almost apathetic Olivia, and I hate that. The rare times she’s shown any vulnerability since I’ve known her usually happened when she was drunk or something slipped through her armor without her realizing what she’d revealed.

Like the time she asked me if it was okay to put pictures of her parents in her apartment. I offered to help her hang them up, and she pulled a handful of photos from random non-fiction books. Her cheeks turned red when she noticed my stare, and she quickly explained fiction books weren’t allowed in the community. Neither were TVs. According to the leaders, it was all rotting their brains.

I didn’t point out how wrong or appalling all of it was, but it seemed that someone had forbidden her to have pictures of her parents, and she had to hide them from her aunt.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“Not today, Holden.”

A painful lump forms in my throat at her voice. It’s thick and full of emotion.

“I don’t know what happened, but maybe it’ll help to get out for a while?” My voice is gentle because even Olivia, who thinks she always needs to be strong, deserves to be treated gently. Maybe even more so. If I knew she’d let me, I’d do it a lot more. “I have something I want to show you. A surprise.”

Her chest lifts and lowers as I wait for an answer. She didn’t say no outright this time, so I take that as a win. And at this point, every win counts.

I play what I hope is my ace. “Stormy’s coming too.”

At that, she does open one eye to peek at me. “She is?”

Gotcha.

“Yup.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep the stupid big grin at bay.

She sighs and mutters, “Fine.”

The urge to pull her into my arms is strong, so I push my hands into my pockets. “We’re leaving in five.”

I can’t help it and snort at her mumbled, “Yes, sir.” It conveys about the same enthusiasm as if I’d just asked her if she wanted to go to the dentist.

I can only hope she’ll enjoy her surprise as much as I think she will, and I didn’t assume too much.

Five minutes later, she shuffles downstairs, her gaze firmly on the floor. “Let’s go.”

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