He looks wearily into Olivia’s room again and then follows me down the hallway. Once in the kitchen, I get some water out of the faucet and set a full glass for him on the counter then work on fixing a glass for myself.
“Nashville was fun,” I say to fill the void. Reality is, it was fun in a weird way. Each of the guys went out of their way to talk to me or tease me in a good-natured way, and Eli...Eli and I shared some awkward conversation and a few times we shared some easy conversation. It’s surprising how much even I enjoyed those moments. “So your dad is Hook?”
Lars pads into the kitchen. When I turn off the faucet and open my mouth to speak again, Razor’s crouched on the floor scratching Lars behind the ears and Lars’s leg kicks as if he’s in heaven. What’s amazing? Razor is smiling.
Smiling.
I’ve been here for weeks and I’ve never seen him smile.
He has a gorgeous smile and it makes me realize just how beautiful the boy is. Blond hair, blue eyes, built a lot like Oz, but when I look at him, there’s no flutter in my stomach. No sense of urgency to be near him and I scowl. There goes my theory that the only reason I have tingles in my blood when Oz is around is because he’s attractive.
Lars plants a large wet kiss on Razor and instead of pushing him away like I expect the big bad biker to do, Razor only plants a kiss back on the dog’s head. He then stands like none of that happened. “Thank you for what you’re doing for Olivia.”
My stomach sinks. “I’m not doing anything.”
He shrugs again. “She’s like a mom to a lot of us and it’s hard to lose your mom.”
Pain flashes in his eyes and because this moment is nearing uncomfortable I ask, “Is she like a mom to Oz?”
Razor’s gaze darts toward the living room. “Ask him.”
Oz
RAZOR’S TALKING AND that’s a big deal. Yeah, he shoots the shit with me and Chevy and, once upon a time, he and Violet were the best of friends, but the kid doesn’t talk. His past with his mother messed him up so much that he feels safer inside himself than he does with the rest of the world.
He may stay bottled up within himself, but he’s loyal and has heart. I couldn’t think of anyone else besides Chevy I’d want by my side if the world went to hell, and it moves me to see that he’s talking with Emily. That he said thank you to Emily.
I’m not the only one who’s noticed how her presence has brightened Olivia’s world.
“I’m out,” Razor says then walks out the back door.
Emily stands stunned near the sink. Yeah, a lot of girls look at Razor like that. He’s like an angel with a demented side and girls either flock to him or run away. Emily seems to be leaning toward the running away, which means she has some semblance of a survival instinct.
What I’m not liking is my sense of relief that she’s not attracted to him.
“You okay?” I ask.
Emily drinks from the glass of water in her hand. “Yeah. Why are you still here?”
Because it’s my job to watch over you. To protect you. “A few guys stayed behind to talk and I saw the kitchen light flip on. Just thought I’d check everything out.”
She shifts her lips to the side as if she doesn’t buy my answer, but moves along. “Is Razor okay?”
No. “He misses his mom sometimes and Olivia is one of the few people he feels he has left.”
Emily frowns. “What happened to his mom?”
“Razor’s right to thank you. Olivia’s happier with you here.”
Emily’s eyes immediately flash to mine with the nonanswer. What happened to Razor’s mom is his business and it bothers him when people talk about it behind his back.
“Is Olivia also like a mom to you?”
Even though I overhead Emily ask the question of Razor first, it still creates a ripple of pain. I love Olivia and she’s dying. “Olivia is a lot of things to a lot of people. Me included. The world will be a dark place if she dies.”
If, because the next round of chemo will work. Because the doctors will figure out something new. They have before. There’s no reason to think they won’t present us with a miracle again.
Emily sets the glass on the counter and hugs her body. “I’m sorry she’s sick.”
Me, too. “Not living here—you missed growing up with a hell of a woman.”
Emily laugh-snorts and it’s cute on her. “I mean this in a better way than a few weeks ago—but she’s still crazy. All of you are.”
“And we wear that title proud.” I like a little too much that Emily smiles with my words. “I’m dying of curiosity. What do your fancy rich-doctor’s-kid friends say about you being a child of a motorcycle club?”
Her smile fades. “They don’t know.”