Page 87 of No More Words

“I thought it was Lucas’s fault. Remember when he was caught shoplifting? Your parents had my dad take us home early.”

“Your brother was an idiot. He got us into a lot of trouble. But no, my parents loved him.”

She feels the burn of tears. “They didn’t invite us back the following summer.”

He brushes aside the fine hair draping her forehead. “That wasn’t because of Lucas. My parents weren’t getting along. They didn’t want visitors.”

Olivia’s hand rests at her side. She rubs the duvet between her fingers and stares at the ceiling. She’d been wrong about Lucas. She just assumed it was his fault. Just like she assumed Lily betrayed her with Ethan. Olivia has always jumped to conclusions without listening to the facts. Running before she could get hurt worse than she already felt.

She returns to her side, her back to Blaze’s chest, unsure whether to cry or yell. She’s so damn angry with herself. How ironic given what she thought a moment ago. Running has been her MO. Her fear of betrayal has cost her so much.

“Ancient history, Liv,” Blaze whispers in her ear. He rubs the tension from her back. “I don’t blame you for any of it. I love you. Always have. Always will.”

This time she believes him. She reaches for his hand. “Thank you for staying.”

He buries his face in her hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.” Her body molds into his. Blaze’s breaths deepen, but sleep taunts her like a prank from Lucas, staying just out of reach.

“Our parents slept together,” she whispers.

Blaze shivers. “Yeah, I know. Don’t go there.”

She quietly laughs.

Day 7

Olivia wanders into Blaze’s kitchen at half past five. Blaze is still in bed. He took the day off to stay with them. He’ll spend it making more calls. Josh is already sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of orange juice, surprising Olivia.

“What are you doing up?” she asks, filling the electric kettle with filtered water.

He peers at her with bloodshot eyes. “Can’t—” His mouth clamps shut. He doesn’t even try to act out what he wants to say.

“Can’t sleep?” she guesses, setting the kettle to boil. She’s noticed the more tired or anxious he is, the more his speech deteriorates. The urge to console him almost pushes her across the kitchen. But she doesn’t feel equipped. She can’t promise they’ll find Lily, not with her own hopes diminishing. She wishes she could tell him his speech would improve, but that would be a lie because she flat-out doesn’t know if it ever will.

Josh nods.

“Me either.” She gets a box of doughnut holes from Blaze’s pantry, one of many treats he keeps on the top shelf, and sits with Josh. She nudges the box. “They aren’t Krispy Kreme, but they taste good when you feel like crap.”

He smirks at her foul language and takes a doughnut, then another. Olivia pops one in her mouth just as the kettle clicks off at a full boil. She gets up from the table and pours the water over coffee grounds, relishing the toasted scent that doesn’t in the least bit make her feel any more awake than she already is.

“I thought she—” He moves his hand in a circular motion instead of finishing his sentence.

“You thought she’d be there? Me too.” A part of her had hoped Lily was home waiting for her son. But life is never that easy. And neither is finding Lily.

He sucks in a ragged breath and Olivia can’t do anything but watch as the past week finally catches up with him. A tear drops on the table, and he buries his face in his arms, his elbow knocking over the juice. The glass rolls off the table. Orange juice splatters on the floor, the chair legs, and cabinet doors. Olivia gasps. Josh lifts his head. Embarrassment shutters his eyes.

“It’s okay,” she reassures. A week ago she would have flipped about the mess. This morning, it’s impossible to be upset about anything. All of her worry centers on Josh. And she feels powerless since she hasn’t been able to give him what he wants: his mom.

“Josh, look at me.”

She rests a hand on his shoulder and he lifts his chin. She lowers to her heels so that she’s looking up at him. “We’re just getting started. We’ll find her.”

He nods, sniffling, and drags an arm under his nose.

“Why don’t you go back to bed? There isn’t anything you can do right now. I’ll clean up, and I’ll keep working on finding your mom. I’ll wake you if there’s any news,” she adds when he seems reluctant to move. “Watch your step.” She assists him over the glass, and he leaves the kitchen. A few seconds later she hears the bedroom door close.

Olivia’s phone rings. The number is one she doesn’t recognize. She drops the dish towel and grabs her phone.

---