24. Olive
24
OLIVE
I paused at my front door, Easton beside me. I’d been so anxious about this date, but everything with Easton was just… fun . Easy.
The date could end here, and I knew Easton would accept it. Wouldn’t be mad at me for it.
But I didn’t want the date to be over.
“Do you want to come inside?” Ugh. My question came out so unsure and pathetic. I cleared my throat, gearing up to sound more confident.
Easton blinked, his lips parted. “Really?” Now it was his turn to clear his throat. “You don’t have to,” he rushed to say.
For as persistent as Easton could be, he had never pushed this, never even asked why I didn’t want them inside.
“How do you know ?” I asked. This time, exasperation tinged my tone.
He furrowed his brow and took a step closer, his hand cupping my elbow, his thumb massaging my arm. “What do you mean?”
“How do you know I’m nervous about having people in my space? I swear you understand me better than I understand myself sometimes.”
A self-satisfied grin spreads across his face. “Because I see you, Olive. I’ve known you were meant to be mine since the moment I first spotted you.” He twisted a piece of my hair around his fingers. “And I’ve been watching you.”
“Watching me?” I asked, sounding breathless.
“Just when you would come into town, not like setting up cameras inside your home. Because that would be inappropriate.” He nodded a little too aggressively, as if he was proud of himself for knowing that would be wrong. “I was just… observing you, sunshine.”
“Observing,” I said slowly, running my hands down his chest. “Is that what we’re calling stalking these days?”
Easton huffed and pulled me into his tight embrace. “I don’t fucking care, Olive. You can be mad at me all you want, but I can’t stop.”
“I mean, I did suspect something was going on when you were always at the market with me.” A smile tugged at my lips. I couldn’t even pretend to be mad at him. My Easton. My stalker. “But… I don’t want you to just watch me. I want you here.” I took a deep breath. “Here, with me, inside my home.”
He squeezed me even tighter. I was crushed against his chest. Not a whisper of space between us.
“I know you’re a private person. You’re shy and prickly and so adorably snarky. You need time to trust people, and that’s something I understand.”
I didn’t move, barely breathed, too afraid to break the spell. I could tell by the way Easton’s body trembled, the way his scent turned bitter, that whatever he was thinking about was painful. My arms flexed around him, as if they were powerful enough to stop the bad memories.
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
He buried his face in my hair, breathing in deeply, and it made me wish I hadn’t worn deodorant today. I always wore it while going out so I didn’t irritate anyone else with my scent. But I wanted to give Easton my scent now.
“My mom wasn’t a good mom,” he started, his words slightly muffled against my hair. “There were always men in and out of our house, and they were always more important than me. I never invited anyone over because I was ashamed. I didn’t want them to see how I was living—the trash and cigarette butts everywhere.” His hands twisted into my hair, and he pressed my face tighter to that spot where his neck and shoulders met. “I didn’t want them to see how she treated me… how she hit me and yelled when she was angry. By the time I was a teenager, I stopped coming home. I started by camping out—first in the woods, but it freaked me the fuck out. Then on the beach. Carina found me one night and demanded I come inside, and I ended up living here, in this house, for a lot of high school.”
The image of a young Easton, bright and sweet and good , being abused destroyed me. We stood there in silence, clinging to each other. Finally, the lump in my throat eased enough so I could speak without bursting into tears.
“You didn’t deserve that.” I pressed my lips against his skin.
I felt him shrug. “I was an obnoxious kid.”
I sucked in an angry breath and pulled away just enough to see his face. “No,” I said fiercely. “You never deserved that. No child does.”
He took a deep, shuddering breath, and the tension in his face eased. “My fierce Olive. I was lucky. I had Lars and Finn and this whole community to care for me.”
“That’s good,” I whispered. I hated that I hadn’t been there for him. It didn’t make sense—we hadn’t lived in the same town, and our seven-year age gap meant we wouldn’t have spent time together as kids anyway. But I wished it all the same—that I could have loved young Easton.
I would just have to love him now.
My heart skipped a beat. Did I love Easton? I wasn’t sure, but the lightness filling my chest felt a lot like it.
I pulled away and took him by the hand. “Come inside.”
Easton’s grip tightened as he interlocked our fingers. “This is your safe space, baby. I might not be the most patient or laid-back guy in the world”—I snorted, and he gave my ass a smack—“but I would never push you into something you’re not ready for. We’re going to have forever together, so I can wait until you’re ready.”
Forever .
I fiddled with the collar of his button-down, keeping my eyes fixed on his throat. “Easton, you can’t be sure about me.”
“But I am.”
I had to resist stomping my foot. “But you can’t be. You barely know me?—”
He cupped the side of my face, and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning into his palm. It was rough from his work and so warm against my cold cheeks. “I thought we’d determined that I know you better than you know yourself.”
“But—”
“And if that’s the case, then it makes perfect sense that I know we’re made for each other.”
His words were so sincere, so sure .
He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “We need to get you warm, baby.”
I reached into my bag, pulled out my keys, and unlocked the front door. Easton hung back as I took a step inside. I didn’t give him a chance to doubt himself again and pulled him inside.
The smile he gave me was so bright and brilliant it would be burned in my mind forever. His warm hands grasped my cold one, and he followed me in.