“There’s no reason you can’t get my coffee.” Olivia enters with a home manicure set basket and is her usual ball-of-sunshine self.
“Normal people say ‘good morning’ and follow up requests with strange words like ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’” Mimicking what Oz has done every morning, I pull a mug out of the cupboard, pour Olivia some coffee and deposit it in front of her.
She picks it up and blows over the top of the mug. “Your father will be back tomorrow.”
My head snaps in her direction and then I open the fridge. She meant her son, not my dad. “Oz mentioned Eli should be returning soon.”
I dip my head into the cold air of the fridge. If I tuck myself into a ball maybe I could squeeze in there and hang for the day.
“Electricity costs money,” Olivia mumbles. “Have you figured out what Honeysuckle Ridge is yet?”
I roll my eyes, grab the orange juice and we fall into our normal routine. She asks the same question every morning and every morning I have the same answer. “Nothing yet that pertains to me.”
I fill my cup and, instead of abandoning the subject, I sink into my chair three spots from hers. “Why don’t you tell me what it is that you want me to know?”
“You’ve only been here a month.” Olivia hunts through the basket. “You’re just now starting to act like a normal human instead of a wild rabbit terrified of being shot. You and I have a lot more to learn about each other.”
I sigh and the slant of her mouth tells me she caught it. I’ve played the game with her. Literally. Every card game imaginable, and I’ve even sat with her as we flipped through endless photos of people I care nothing about. “What more can you want from me? I’ve answered every question you’ve asked.”
“This isn’t a job interview,” she says. “You already have the position of my granddaughter. I want you to stick around until you actually believe you’re part of this family.”
I am never going to discover what transpired between my mom and Eli.
Olivia produces a fingernail file and that’s when I notice the split nail on the pointer finger of her right hand. I tap the tip of my tongue to the roof of my mouth. Olivia’s left side isn’t strong.
“Can I do it?” I ask.
Olivia shoots me a glare that makes me want to shrink into a corner. “I’m not a fucking invalid.”
Won’t lie. She scares the hell out of me. “I never said you were, but this is the kind of thing Mom and I would do for each other—for fun. Fun.” I overemphasize the word. “Excuse me for trying to act like family.”
I kick away from the table, put the orange juice back in the fridge with more racket than needed, and right as I leave the kitchen, Olivia calls out, “Do you always resort to behaving like a two-year-old when someone yells at you?”
The muscles in my back tense. Who interacts this way? “Have you ever tried being nice, or is that what will cause you to melt? It must have been a bummer for you with what happened when water was poured on your sister.”
Olivia laughs. The deep one, and my lips twitch with it. I don’t understand her, but for some reason when she does laugh, I like it because it’s a confirmation I won at least one round.
She waves her hand in the air. “Get back in here.”
Reluctantly, I sit next to her. Relationships shouldn’t be this way—continual fights for dominance. I take the nail file and her hand then pause at the cold temperature of her skin. She’s freaking ice cubes. Crazy since the house is the desert at high noon.
I start filing and Olivia breaks the silence. “You don’t feel sorry for me because I’m dying, do you?”
An overwhelming chill causes my stomach to roil. “I do, but you make it easy to forget that you’re sick.” It’s the truth and I’m a horrible person. “Sorry for the witch comment.”
“Don’t apologize for that. Never for that. I like that you don’t treat me differently. You’ve done more good for my soul than you can know.” She breathes in deeply then releases the air at a slow pace. “Oz treats me differently.”
I nibble on my bottom lip. “How so?”
“The second tree on the left,” Olivia says. I should’ve known better than to expect a straight answer.
My hand freezes midfile. “What?”
“Where you’ll go today, there will be a large oak tree. The second tree from the left. Look there.”
“But I’m not going anywhere—”
She shushes me and Oz’s heavy boots clump against the hardwood floor of the hallway and then enter the kitchen. The skin on the back of my neck prickles with anticipation. I lift my eyes to the mirror on the wall and sure enough his are locked on me and Olivia.
His hair is damp and sticks up in various ways. It’s sexy as hell and my fingers flinch with the desire to run my hands through it again. Oz’s gaze switches to the mirror and the breath catches in my chest when his blue eyes meet mine. We hold it that way. One second. Two.