Page 29 of Wild Eyes
“Does that mean you snuck out?”
“I don’t feel like I’m bothering you. Am I?”
I swallow a chuckle. I’m not oblivious to the fact that she’s smart enough to work her way around admitting she snuck out. I’m treading on dangerous ground right now. I don’t want to undermine her father, but she also truly isn’t bothering me.
“No, Emmy, you’re not bothering me. But from only knowing you and your dad for a day, I can tell he loves you very much. And if he can’t find you or is wondering where you are, he’s going to get worried.”
She heaves out a breath. “No, he’ll ask Oliver first.”
“Oh, you told Oliver you were coming here?”
“Yeah, he told me not to do it. He said I was gonna scare you away.”
I tilt my head at that. “Scare me away?”
“Yeah, he told me that I’ll annoy you, and you won’t want to stay with us anymore.”
“Emmy, you are not annoying me, and you will not make me leave. Truth be told…” I say sadly, not able to even look the girl in the eye as I admit to it, “truth be told, I don’t have anywhere to go.”
She nods as though she understands what could be going on in my life. “Oliver likes you, you know,” she says.
“That’s good. I like Oliver too.”
“I mean, he has terrible taste in music, which means he listens to the same stuff that Uncle Ford does. But he likes you. He never talks to anybody, and he talked to you.”
That stops me in my tracks. “What do you mean by he never talks to anybody?”
“I mean, he doesn’t talk to anyone other than me and Dad and Mom. And Brandon sometimes. Ford, Rosie, Cora…” She lists off only enough names to fit on both hands, and I’m stunned into silence.
It’s not as though Oliver and I had some big conversation, but he did offer his name. I never thought about the fact that he was quiet. I’m used to people being struck silent by my presence, or fumbling around me, or just generally treating me like I’m something special, which only makes me uncomfortable.
Oliver’s reaction was comforting. And so was his dad’s.
West hasn’t even mentioned recognizing who I am, though I know he does, and that’s why I feel relaxed here. Even if I’m staying in a tiny dump with a mouse for a roommate.
“Well, he only told me his name, but I didn’t know that. And it doesn’t matter to me. That’s his business.”
“Yeah.” She nods. “Dad tells me all the time that I shouldn’t tell people about it, but Oliver does like you. He told me so. So just…maybe he’ll talk to you. I think that would be nice for him. So just don’t give up on him yet.”
I feel my cheeks heat. It’s such a profound request from someone so small—someone I don’t even know. I’m not used to these kinds of expectations.
Humanexpectations.
There’s no financial gain. There’s no priority placement in a magazine. There’s no clout to be gained. It’s just a little boy’s heart and a little girl who’s looking out for her brother. It warms me to see how much they love each other.
Has anyone ever gone to bat for me the way Emmy does for her brother? Just over something that makes me happy? Just over something that I want for myself?
I don’t think they have.
And it makes me feel more appreciative of these two kids I just met. It makes me want to know them better. And since I intend to spend at least a couple of months here, they don’t need to worry about me leaving. There’s time. There’s time for all of us to get to know each other.
And there’s time to see if Oliver feels inclined to talk more.
“You don’t need to worry about that, Emmy. I’ve got no plans to leave. If anything, I’ll be moving next door into one of the guesthouses, but we’ll still be close, and I’ll still be around. I don’t know anybody here, so you’ll likely catch me wandering aimlessly, trying to figure out the purpose of my life and how I ended up where I am and what I even want to do with myself.”
I realize I’ve blurted out more than I should to a six-year-old, and her wide eyes tell the tale. So I scoff and wave a hand. “Ignore me. I’m just rambling. How about we get you back up to the house, so you don’t get in any more trouble?”
She hops off my bed, and I take in the perfect french braid in her damp hair. It’s pulled tight but not too tight, all artfully twisted down the back of her scalp into a rope that lands between her shoulder blades, topped off with a silk tie.
