Page 114 of Deception

Normally, Olive would be okay with that. But right now, for some reason, the tension between them made it hard to breathe.

Jason picked up the remote. “Mind if I turn on the news? I want to see if they’re reporting anything of interest.”

“Go right ahead.”

The TV came on, but a commercial played.

A commercial using the song “Hello” by Adele filled the room.

The air left her lungs.

This had been their song. Hers and Jason’s. Throughout the years, whenever she’d heard it, she’d thought of them. Thought about how even more appropriate the lyrics seemed now in their years apart.

Jason’s gaze caught hers.

He was thinking the same thing, wasn’t he?

Olive imagined for a moment what it would be like to step into his arms. To forget her worries, her past—everything—for just a second and enjoy herself.

“Jason—” she started.

He stepped closer, his smoky gaze locked on hers. “Yes?”

Her throat suddenly felt dry. What was she trying to say?

She really had no idea—which was unlike her. Plans were always her thing.

“I . . . I, uh . . . I’m really glad you’re here,” she finally said.

Somehow, in the time it had taken her to say those words, he’d moved until he was standing right in front of her. Moved close enough for her to see the flecks of gold in his eyes. To feel his presence, though he didn’t actually touch her.

She was in serious trouble. Because all she wanted to do was kiss him.

And she was fairly certain that Jason wanted the same.

CHAPTER 60

SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO

The next week, Olive and her mom had gone to the local farmer’s market to go shopping. Her sisters had stayed home with Dad.

Olive was excited to spend some alone time with her mom, and she was so glad it wasn’t with her dad instead.

She never wanted a replay of last week. She was still thinking about it and felt embarrassed with every memory.

“Why don’t you go pick out some tomatoes for me while I grab some cucumbers?” her mom said.

Olive nodded. She loved it when her mom trusted her enough to let her pick out vegetables at the market. She’d taught Olive what to look for and what to avoid.

She held her basket in the crook of her arm and started browsing the tomatoes, humming to herself as she did.

“Excuse me?” a voice said beside her.

Olive looked up. The blood drained from her face when she saw the woman from the pharmacy standing beside her—the clerk who’d given her money.

“Yes?” Olive’s voice trembled.

“You came into the store last week asking for money,” the woman said. “How are you doing?”

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