Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
NINE YEARS AGO
O live wandered downstairs the next morning, still in her pajamas. Her curly hair was a frizzy mess around her head, but she didn’t care.
She’d hardly gotten any sleep last night, especially after she heard that crash. Then she’d heard the footsteps coming up the stairs. She’d seen the shadow.
Thankfully, it had only been her dad, and he hadn’t seen her peering through the cracked door. It had been too dark to make out any details about him. Olive only knew his footsteps had been heavy
She paused in the kitchen and silently watched as her father stood with his back toward her, using the griddle to cook some pancakes.
Her dad was handsome. Everyone said so.
He was tall and lean but strong. He had thick dark hair and blue eyes that always sparkled. Her friends told her he looked and acted like a movie star—Chris Pine’s name had been thrown out more than once. Dad always had a swing in his step, and his easy smile set people at ease.
He must have heard Olive’s footsteps because he glanced over his shoulder.
A smile stretched across his face when he spotted her. “Good morning, sunshine.”
Olive wanted to buy his act and believe he was as carefree as he pretended. But she didn’t. What she knew and what she saw collided inside her, but she was no longer confused as to why.
The why was because her dad was a great actor.
She lowered herself onto a bar stool at the kitchen island, still preoccupied with what had happened last night. “Where are Jules and Jessie?”
Jules and Jessie were her ten-year-old twin sisters. Olive had been hoping to watch some reruns of One Tree Hill with them today before hanging out with Jason later.
“They had rehearsal this morning for their dance recital. Remember? Your mom took them.”
That was right. Olive vaguely remembered something about that. They were allowed to take dance classes, but Olive wasn’t allowed to take horseback riding lessons.
She had many more responsibilities than her younger sisters. There was definitely a difference in how they were all treated. Being the oldest wasn’t all it was made out to be.
This would be the perfect opportunity to find out some information from her dad. Even though her mother had told her to forget about last night’s incident, how could she? Could any rational person actually pretend like the heated argument and crash hadn’t happened?
The right thing to do versus what Olive wanted to do battled inside her.
“Would you like a pancake?” Her dad glanced back at her again.
That was when she saw the cut on his forehead.
Suddenly, her decision was made.
“What happened?” She nodded at his cut.
He touched it. “Oh, this? I was being clumsy. I bent down to pick up something and scraped my head on the corner of the coffee table. I keep saying I’m going to get a new one, that the table will be the death of someone one day. Never thought I would be that someone.”
He was lying. He did it so convincingly. If Olive hadn’t heard that argument downstairs last night then she’d believe what he told her.
How did someone get that good at not telling the truth?
“So, about that pancake?” Her dad threw her a look. “I added some blueberries.”
They did smell good. Despite herself, she said, “I’d love one.”
“Then one pancake coming right up.”
Olive twirled the end of her hair, knowing once she opened this can of worms that there was no putting those worms back.
But that didn’t stop her.
“Who were you arguing with down here last night?” she blurted.
Her dad froze as if her question had thrown him off. “What are you talking about?”
“I heard you. Talking to two men. It sounded heated.”
He broke from his stupor and chuckled. “I think you were dreaming, darling.”
He was lying to her again, and Olive hated being lied to.
Did her dad think she didn’t know the truth? He was the one who’d taught her how to read people, to be a human lie detector. People who didn’t tell the truth often fidgeted, avoided eye contact, the pitch of their voice rose, they offered vague answers, and they repeated questions.
Her back muscles stiffened. “I wasn’t dreaming, and you won’t convince me otherwise.”
Her dad paused and turned toward her with the spatula in his hand. “Olive . . . you’re too much like me for your own good.”
When Olive was younger, she’d thought her dad walked on water. Thought he could do no wrong.
He was the life of the party. He made friends wherever he went and brought the fun with him. Everything they did together was an adventure.
But lately, Olive had been seeing through the cracks. Seeing who he really was.
However, did anyone really know who he was? Did her dad even know who he really was? How about her mom? What did she know about all of this? She always seemed passive and innocent, the ying to his yang.
“Don’t treat me like I’m a child,” Olive finally told him. “I know something’s going on, and I’m concerned.”
“Oh, sweetie . . .” Dad reached across the island and tucked one of her curls behind her ear. “Don’t you worry about it. It’s all adult stuff.”
“Again, I’m not a child, and I’m not stupid. I heard yelling and a crash. Now you have a cut on your forehead.”
Something in his gaze seemed to harden. “I told you that was from the coffee table. It’s really no big deal. That must have been the crash you heard. After I cut myself, I kicked the table. Not my best moment, I admit. And the arguing? I couldn’t sleep and was watching an action-adventure movie. It was probably the characters on the screen you heard. You were tired and probably not thinking clearly.”
Again, he was so convincing—the type of person people wanted to believe. He always sounded so sure of himself. He always had an answer. If all else failed, he had an easy smile and a caring demeanor.
“So you’re not in trouble?” Olive studied his face, looking for the signs of deception.
“No, honey. I’m not in trouble. And I’m sorry I woke you. I won’t let it happen again.”
But Olive knew there was entirely more to the story than her dad was letting on.
Somehow, she had to discover the truth. Her gut told her that her dad was in serious trouble . . . and that meant the rest of her family might be also.