“I’m not stopping you from taking responsibility for your actions, Olivia. Anytime you wanna give me the real reason you ran out of town, I’m here to listen. Because I know you well enough to know that there’s more to the story than you just wanting to go pro.” One minute we were planning our lives together and the next she was telling me that I was holding her back and taking off without me. I refuse to believe that the switch happened out of nowhere. I’m not a fool; I know she owes me an explanation. But at the end of the day, I still want forever with her, so I’m willing to wait for that explanation until she’s ready to put in the work to get us there.

Her cheeks hollow out but she stays quiet. Too quiet. Before I can reach across the seat and touch her, she’s out of the car and walking to the house.

A couple hours later, sleep eludes me so I find myself outside on the front steps, listening to the sounds of the country night.

The door opens, but I don’t turn to watch her come out. She lowers herself onto the step next to me and passes me a plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on it.

Eating our sandwiches in companionable silence, I’ve never been more at peace.

Chapter Eighteen

Olivia

I open my door to find Kylie’s signature long, dark hair facing me. When she spins around, her smile immediately falters. Disgust drips from her every pore.

“Shit,” she whispers. “Kai made it seem like he’d be here and you wouldn’t.”

“Umm, sorry to disappoint.”

Her scowl somehow deepens at that. “Right. Well, I’m dropping this off for him. Don’t know why he didn’t just tell me to bring it to his office but okay.” She holds up a small duffle bag but drops it on the ground when I go to grab it from her.

“Thanks, I’ll let him know you brought it.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Kylie, wait!” She slowly turns back around, her shoulders practically touching her ears. “Do you want to come in for a minute?”

“Why would I want to do that?”

Good fucking question. “Just…could you?”

She chews on her bottom lip for a moment, looking back to her car like she’s ready to make a run for it, but then she claps her hands, yells ‘fuck it,’ and follows me inside.

I offer her a seat but she makes no moves to get comfortable. She barely moves past the entryway.

“So, yesterday was awkward. And that’s my fault.”

“Okay.”

I have no idea what to say to her. I don’t know how to fix this, but I hate that she looks at me like I’m the worst person she’s ever met. “I’m sorry,” I offer.