“It was one night, by the way. Way before Mike.” Amber settles into her car. She pulls a face and Olivia can’t help grinning.
“I can’t believe you got it on with Shane.”
“I can’t believe he told Blaze.”
“I can. Shane’s an idiot.”
“Agreed. He also misplaces his phone a lot. Leaves home without it, drops it in the toilet, those kinds of things.”
“What a doofus.”
Amber starts her car. “Shane’s borrowed my phone before.”
“Did he text Macey from it?”
“No, but he texts like it’s his phone.”
Guilt slides through Olivia like an unwanted garden pest, eating away at her conscience. Blaze was telling the truth and she refused to listen. She didn’t want to hear that he didn’t cheat because she’d have to acknowledge what he was feeling. He was falling in deep with her. She sensed it last night as they lay in bed, their bodies bathed in moonlight and sweat.
He’d arrived drunk after an evening out with Shane. As his hands roamed in all sorts of glorious places, he whispered promises that had her fisting the sheets and eyeing her bedroom door as if she were looking for a means of escape. He wanted to move in permanently. He wanted more than a few dates a week and a night’s roll. Did she want kids? They should adopt a dog.
Olivia had gasped and almost bolted for the door. But this was Blaze. Fun, playful, knows-how-to-make-her-belly-laugh Blaze. Alcohol was coursing through his system, playing tricks in his head, loosening his tongue. She closed her eyes and willed herself to relax. He wouldn’t remember this in the morning.
Then Macey reacted to the photo Shane sent on Blaze’s phone, and the hurt and rejection from years past poured into her like gushing water from a toppled dam. She’d reacted irrationally, especially after what he shared with her last night. She should have known he’d betray her again. Is that why he rambled on while they kicked around the sheets? He felt guilty?
She closes Amber’s door and waits for her to ease down the window. “Chat tomorrow?”
Amber smiles. “Definitely. I want details about both guys, the one in the kitchen and the one who’ll be back to collect his stuff. Good luck tonight.” She drives off, her musical laughter trailing behind.
Olivia looks back at the house, the living and dining room windows ablaze with light against the backdrop of night, and thinks how surreal her day turned. Lily and Ethan’s son is up there. What is she supposed to do with him? Maybe she should drop Josh off at Lucas’s. He was closer to Lily toward the end before he went to juvie, and Josh might connect more with his uncle than her.
Her phone pings with an incoming text. She glances at the screen. Her Dasher has picked up her order and is on his way.
She returns to the house. Josh is seated at the kitchen table peeling an orange. The rind is stacked in a neat pile in front of him. He breaks apart the orange and shows Olivia a slice. “Peach.”
Olivia stares openly. Josh watches her expectantly. She clears her throat, wondering if he’s messing with her. “Uh, you know that’s an orange, right?”
His chest deflates. He stares at the orange slice with loathing. His nostrils twitch, something that her brother Lucas does when he’s angry. With sudden movement, Josh throws the slice into the sink. The rest of the orange follows.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you? That’s perfectly good fruit.” Olivia collects the orange, leaves it on the counter.
Josh surges to his feet, the chair scraping loudly on hardwood. New hardwood. Dammit, her floors are less than a year old. She moves the chair aside and runs her foot over the planks, checking for scratches. Josh scoops up the rind and turns full circle, searching for something. He looks at Olivia, shows her the peel. “Keys?”
“Keys?” She frowns, confused, and he gestures with the orange peel. Her stomach twists with unease. She rubs her forehead. “I don’t understand what you mean. You can’t have my keys, and throw that away.”
He frowns. “Throw,” he says, slowly.
“Yes, throw it away,” she repeats, cocking her head. “Are you looking for the trash?” She points at the peelings. “Trash?”
A light bulb goes off in his expression. “Trash. Yes.”
“Well, we compost around here. The bin is under there.” She points at the cabinet under the sink and Josh’s face twists up. “Here, it’s under here.” She opens the cabinet in a rush and shows him the small composting bucket. He dumps the orange peel and backs up, turning away from her as he wipes his face with his sweatshirt sleeves.
She releases a long, ragged breath of relief—she deciphered what he wanted—but then her gaze meets his. His eyes shimmer. Hers widen with apprehension. “Whoa. What’s wrong?”
“Hit . . . my . . .” He glances away and drags a hand over his damp eyes.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay. What did you hit?” She didn’t catch that last part.
He taps his head.
She shirks back. “You hit your head?” She rubs at her throat, trying to make sense of what he’s telling her. “When?”
“Before . . . back.”
“Before you got here?”
He nods. “Back . . . long before . . . here.”
Long before here? She frowns. “You mean you hit your head a while ago?” He nods. “Okay, wow.” She backs up and leans against the counter. “Is that why you confused the orange with a peach?” She gestures at the partially eaten fruit.
He nods. “Confuse words. Hard to drive . . . fumble . . . fuck.” Olivia blinks at the out-of-the-blue f-bomb. He presses his lips tight and exhales roughly through his nose. “Find,” he says, finally, and his shoulders droop.
Olivia tries to assemble what he’s told her. “It’s hard for you to find words?” He nods, his chin tucked into his chest, and she wants to scream at Lily for losing sight of her son.
The poor kid. The simple act of talking must be a mountain of a road bump. Embarrassing, to say the least, given the way he seems to want to curl into himself.
What condition would cause him to confuse words? She’ll have to look that up. She could call Mike, which did make her wonder . . . “Do you need a doctor?”
His eyes widened and he shook his head hard.
“Well, you let me know if you do. Okay?”
He shrugs, his head hanging low.
“Here, sit down,” she says, feeling sorry for him. She fixes his chair, pats the seat. He can calm down while she gets her own nerves under control. He settles into the chair and she backs away, her hands shaking. She’s so unprepared for this. Kids are alien to her. She’s never interacted with them let alone carry on a conversation. And this kid can barely get a word out.
Keeping her hands busy, she washes Amber’s glass, willing the trembling to subside.
As the wine residue rinses away, a flicker of fear finds its way inside. Josh said Lily was gone. If he’s mixing words, he could have meant exactly what Olivia asked out front. Lily is dead.
The sponge drops with a splat in the sink. Olivia has resented Lily for years, but she never wished she’d die. In the back of her mind, she reasoned she’d see her again one of these days. She’d eventually get the chance to let Lily know how much her sister hurt her.