This woman was infuriating. She was clearly deflecting. I’d gotten to know her well enough over the past few weeks that I could tell.
“Olivia,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “We’re worried about you. You haven’t been talking to anyone. Lukas said you haven’t even left the house since—”Since John died.“You can’t blame people for being worried.”
She looked away, rolling her lips together. “Well, maybe people should quit worrying about me.”
“Honey, you know it’s not that simple.”
“God! And stop calling me that. I’m not your honey. I’m not your anything.” Her dark eyes were nearly black, cool and indifferent, and so at odds with the version of her I knew. “When a woman doesn’t respond to your text messages, it’s because she doesn’t want to talk to you. You should take the fucking hint.”
Her words were primed to wound, and they struck me at my core just as she intended. It would be easy to storm out, to let my frustration get the best of me and turn me into someone I didn’t recognize, but I didn’t waver. I didn’t let her see how much her words killed me inside.
Olivia’s anger was valid. It was warranted. While she knew his death was inevitable, she thought she had more time. We all fucking did. It killed me knowing we were all robbed of that, but none more than her.
But what I wanted—what she needed—was to direct that anger toward something. Someone. Toward me. I wanted her to get it all out because holding it in was going to make the wound left behind by John’s death fester until she rotted from the inside out.
I leaned forward, bracing my hands on the countertop. “I’m not a stupid man, Olivia. I know you don’t mean that shit.You’re angry right now, and I get that, but you don’t have to be angry alone. You have family. You have friends. You haveme.” I stressed that last word, pushing every ounce of pleading I had into my voice.
“You need to leave, Duke,” she said, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “I have a meeting in fifteen minutes.”
“Olivia,” I began, but she cut me off.
“Can you not push me right now?”
“No, because that’s exactly what you need. You need someone to push you. And you need to throw all your anger at them to see that they won’t leave because of it.” I placed my hand on my chest. “I’m not leaving, Olivia.”
“You will eventually, so let’s just cut the bullshit, alright? This isn’t a therapy session. I don’t want to talk about my goddamn feelings. I want to be left alone.”
“Tough shit.” I walked around the corner until I was standing right in front of her. She refused to look at me. “Talk to me, Liv. Tell me how to help.”
All of a sudden, she exploded. Her eyes burned with fire. With anger and rage and fury. “And how, exactly, do you think you can help me, Duke? Huh? Please tell me.”
“Just talk to me?—”
“I. Wasn’t. There.” Each word was punctuated with a jab to my chest. “He died, and I wasn’t there because we decided to go out to play one big happy family. I wasn’t there when he took his last breath. I wasn’t there to say goodbye,” her voice broke on a ragged sob. “I wasn’t fucking there, and I will never forgive myself for it.”
I surged forward, taking her into my arms as her cries got louder and louder. She tried to break free, but I held her as tight as I had three days ago. As though it could somehow piece her back together.
“I hate myself for that day. And not just because he wasalone, but because, up until that moment, I was happy. God, I was so fucking happy. And when I think about what happened before, I want to smile at the stupid fucking coloring pages and all the things we shared, but then I remember what came after and I get so fucking nauseous that I spend my time between meetings with my head in a toilet.”
I ran my hand up and down her back as she spoke about grief and fury and all the unfair bullshit that life sent our way sometimes. She was right; it wasn’t fair that she didn’t get to say goodbye.
And the worst part was that I was the last one to spend time with him. His last words were meant for Olivia, but I got them instead. They might have set her free from the prison she was keeping herself in.
“When I got divorced,” I began, clearing my throat. “I alienated myself. I hated everyone and everything that seemed happy when I was so clearly in hell. I’ve spent the past two years of my life utterly miserable, but lately… Lately, things have been better. I appreciate the little things I’d been taking for granted. Like sunshine and chocolate milkshakes and an absolutely maddening woman who doesn’t realize how much control she has over me.”
Without overthinking, I pressed a kiss to the top of her forehead. Olivia’s eyes closed as though savoring the contact.
There was something monumental about the moment. A tender touch between friends on the brink of something more. I wanted it to last forever. Wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her until we lost track of time and the bullshit that plagued our day-to-day lives.
But I didn’t.
“I know you’re an independent woman, and I’d never want to take away from that. I’d rather take a thousand verbal blows than exist in your silence. But if you don’t want to take it out onme, take it out on Lukas. Take it out on Grady. You have so many people who care about you.”
Olivia buried her head in my chest, crying harder. Her hands clutched at the fabric of my shirt, stretching it tightly across my shoulders and neck. I could feel her body weakening, going limp in my arms.
Without asking, I scooped her up the best I could and brought her over to the couch. She sat in my lap as I rocked her back and forth slowly. Deliberately.
The phone rang somewhere in the distance, but she didn’t move. She simply sat there and let me hold her until her eyes drifted shut and her breathing evened out.