Page 87 of One More Truth
“You forget something inside?” I jerk my head toward the house we’ve been working on this week.
“No. I was just over at Olivia’s.”
I frown. He’s not usually moody after spending time with Olivia and Nova. Hell, he’s not usually moody period. He’s one of the happiest guys I know.
My body tenses, and I’m one step away from jumping into my truck and driving to their house. “Is something wrong with Nova? Olivia?”
He shakes his head, and his breath releases on a hard hiss of air. “I can’t help you anymore with Jess’s renovations.”
Shit.It doesn’t take Einstein to figure out why. “She got to you, huh? Olivia?”
His expression flickers through a series of emotions. Frustration. Disbelief. Regret. Resignation. “She’s angry that I was helping Jess.”
I nod, not at all surprised by this, but no less frustrated than Lance. It helped having someone working with us who was skilled with renovations. “Losing Colton has made her paranoid.”
“I’m not sure that’s what I’d call it.”
That’s exactly what I would call it. “She used to be the kind of person who would give someone a second chance without question. Now, she believes the lies being spread about my girlfriend.”
“I tried to get her to see otherwise, but it backfired. Olivia can be infuriatingly stubborn.”
I snort a laugh and smack him on the back. “You’re only realizing that now?”
“How is it you’re allowed to date Jess, and Olivia doesn’t have an issue with that? But I can’t help renovate Jess’s house without being the bad guy?”
I lean my ass against the side of my truck. “Oh, believe me, Olivia has an issue with me dating Jess. But there isn’t anything she can do about that. I’m in love with Jess. Nothing Olivia says or does will change that.”
But even as I utter the words, I wonder how true they are. How am I supposed to keep my promise to Colton about looking after Nova and Olivia if Olivia is making things difficult for me? There are no provisions in the best friend contract for situations like this.
My phone pings with a text.
Simone: Reporters and protesters are outside the library. They’re waiting for Jess.
“Fuck!” I respond in a near growl.
“What’s wrong?”
“Reporters and protesters have figured out Jess is at the library.” I glance at the men working on the street. “Dammit. At the rate these guys are going…” I leave the weight of my words hanging.
“Go. I’ll stay.”
I don’t argue with Lance, even though it’s my responsibility to stay and not his. I climb into my truck and drive to the library faster than I normally would under different circumstances.
The number of protesters and reporters waiting outside the building isn’t as bad as it is in front of Jess’s house, but there are still too many for my liking.
I park my truck and sprint to the library entrance. The group of about a dozen or so people are standing to the side. They aren’t exactly blocking the entrance, but they are causing a disturbance.
A mother and her two young children hurry past the group.
“Convicts not welcome!”
“Keep our children safe!”
The mother looks worried, her forehead puckered in a frown. The kids look as if they’re expecting the group to turn into hungry monsters and chase after them. The protesters are accusing Jess of being a risk to children’s safety, but it’s the protesters who have these kids scared—and the idiots with their chants can’t even see that.
The mother pulls open the glass door, and the three of them duck inside the building, leaving the protesters to yell at the closing door.
I stalk past the reporters and the protesters, doing my best to avoid getting into a verbal altercation with any of them. That’s the last thing the With Hope Festival needs.
