Gil: Okay, great. Thanks. By the way, don’t feel like you can’t keep using my car if it makes your life easier. I’ll figure out an alternative.
Olin: It was kind of you to let me borrow it to drive Olive around, but it’s yours. I’ll just catch the bus back after I’ve driven her to you.
He took a long time to reply, as if he was once again typing and deleting multiple responses. My heart flurried as words flashed over my screen.
Gil: I know it’s over between us but...if you want answers, I can give them to you. I’m done with lies and hiding. I’ll tell you all of it...if you ask.
My eyes flashed to my bedroom door as it cracked open. Olive rubbed her eyes sleepily, her forehead furrowed with exhaustion. “Oh, good. You’re still there.”
I tossed my phone onto the couch, climbing to my feet and going to her. She walked into my embrace, squishing her face into my chest. “Of course, I’m still here. I told you I’d keep you safe.”
She pulled away, looking up at me. “You’re the best, O. My second favourite person after my daddy.”
“Wow, that’s a great honour.” I smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And you’re the greatest little girl I know.” Holding her shoulders, I pushed her away until I could study her face clearly. “What woke you? Another nightmare?”
She dug her barefoot into the carpet. “I thought I heard something. A man.”
“Nope. Just us.”
“That’s good.”
She’d grown used to Justin but not to the degree of our bond. Justin had come over a couple of times with pizza and Thai takeaway. He told kid jokes, brought dessert, and braved through a Netflix program for little girls. He was allowed to touch her shoulder in goodbye and take her dishes into the kitchen, but that was where her comfort level ended.
If Gil did get sentenced, who would care for her? Who would step up to be the parent she needed—the protector, the artist, and the disciplinarian?
“Want to know something awesome?” I made my voice bubbly and light.
Her eyes widened in excitement. “What?”
My phone vibrated on the couch behind me, signalling a new message had been delivered.
Gil.
God, why couldn’t we have messaged each other before? It would’ve made a lot of his secrets easier to share via a faceless text.
“You’re going home tomorrow. Your dad healed enough to leave the hospital. How freaking cool is that?”
Olive froze, then pure joy rippled through her. She clapped her hands and spun in place with the biggest grin. “Oh, wow, really?!” She bounced on the spot. “Yay! Yay!”
I pointed at my bedroom door. “It’s going to be super fun tomorrow, so you better get some sleep. You don’t want to be tired, do you?”
She turned deadly serious. “You’re right. I don’t want to be tired. I get cranky when I’m tired.”
“Yeah, me too. Should we go to sleep, and when we wake up, we’ll go see your father?”
She threw herself at me, planting a wet kiss on my cheek. “Yes, please!” Pulling away, a frown stole her smile. “Wait...you’ll stay with us, right? You’ll come live at the warehouse?”
I stiffened. “That’s your home. This is mine.”
“But I like living with you.”
“You’ll love living with your dad more.”
Her face fell. “But...I’ll miss you.”
I hid the dagger she stabbed me with. The dagger of kindness and affection. After living a lonely life, being told you’re wanted was the worst kind of drug because you could swiftly become addicted to it.
Smiling broadly, I turned her around and marched her back into my bedroom. “You won’t miss me, silly. You won’t even notice I’m not there the moment you’re back with your dad. Now, go to sleep so you have lots of energy tomorrow.”
Closing the door, I returned to the couch and let out the tangled breath I’d been holding.
What was it about Gil and his daughter that turned me inside out? How did both of them have the power to reach inside my chest and claim what wasn’t theirs to claim?
The sooner I leave, the better.
My phone revealed the newest message that’d come in, flashing in warning as I clicked on it.
Gil: I have no right to say this after what I’ve done, but I love you, O. I always have. I always will. I know I don’t stand a chance to fix what I’ve broken, and I’m not asking you to forgive me. I guess...I just wanted to be honest. To finally be honest how it’s always been you. I was in love with you for two years before we even officially talked. I was in love with you the entire time we were apart. And I’m still in love with you, even though I know I will never deserve you. I guess that’s my true punishment. I won’t bring it up again. I won’t make you uncomfortable. But I had to say it.
Anyway, goodnight.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for looking after my daughter. If I know her as well as I think I do, I know she’ll miss you. She’ll ask you to move in with us. She’ll be as in love with you as am I.
And I don’t blame her.
I slouched against the pillow, my heart racing, my blood gushing. Tears glazed my vision as I read and re-read his message. A text like that had the power to drop my guard and give me permission to forgive anything and everything.
It reeked of a promise of love and togetherness and home.
It made me want to type that I loved him too. That I always had and probably always would. To accept his proposal to become a part of his life, to possibly become his wife, and mother to his child.
I could have my very own family.
No.
Stop it.
You can’t.
Our foundations were rotten and full of holes.
Our walls were riddled with secrets and lies.
Our trust was torn apart.
There is no us anymore.
And it’s for the best.
Swiping away a tear, I clung to my resolution of being stronger this time. Of not letting my need for company and closeness belittle my own self-worth. Gil had taken and taken from me.
The small part that was left had to remain mine.
Olin: Goodnight, Gil. I’ll see you tomorrow.
My hands shook as I sent the polite message back.
A message that didn’t just give a generic goodbye but an entire fistful of honesty.
An ending hidden behind the simple phrase.
It’s too little.
It’s too late.
We’re friends.
And nothing more.
Chapter Fourteen
______________________________
Olin
“IT LOOKS WEIRD,” Olive muttered as I parked the car in front of warehouse twenty-five. The Master of Trickery graffiti and gravel frontage hissed with memories of Gil being beaten by his uncle, of Jeffrey trying to drag me into his van, of Gil pulling me inside to paint and deliver me.
I swallowed hard, scolding my pounding heart.
I could do this.
It’s just a building.
He’s just a man.
It’s all in the past.
“How did it used to look?” I unbuckled my seatbelt, climbing from the car as Olive hurled herself outside.
She squinted in the watery sunlight. “Not sure. It’s just...different.”