Chapter 14
Olivia
Out?
Did he say out?
No.
Absolutely not.
Why wouldn’t he tell me that the other day?
Everything is a blur. I can see him talking but can’t hear a word he is saying as I get dressed. The buzzing in my head gets stronger and louder the longer I'm in this room. My chest has a vice grip on me, and I feel like I can’t breathe. I need to get out of here.
I set rules. And I broke the biggest one.
“Ollie.”
“Ollie.”
“Olivia,” he gently yells. He’s out of bed and standing in front of me, his hands are reaching for my shoulders to stabilize me.
“I need to leave.” I stammer as I start to push past him.
“Olivia, you’re freaking out. You aren’t leaving yet, let’s talk this out. Get some fresh air and let’s talk about it,” he says.
I know he’s right, but I can’t think. I don’t want to talk about it.
He is staying in Fisher Creek, only two hours from Milwaukee.
My city. My home. I don’t have to see him, but I want to.
I know that we’ll be drawn together in that city or even back here, and I will fall again and he will leave, again.
I wasn’t enough ten years ago, so what has changed now?
He’ll just leave again.
“You want to talk about it? Noah, you left me. You didn’t want me. I told you I was in love with you. You left me. No, Noah, the answer is no,” I shout.
His arms drop from my shoulders, and I know I hit home hard. I high-tail it out of the house, pulling the door of my rental car open as quickly as possible before the tears start running down my face.
I’m instantly back to standing outside, crying in the rain in Oklahoma ten years ago, trying to find a hotel that wasn’t fully booked with Army families.
Unable to tell if the salty taste I have in my mouth is due to the current stream of tears or the sting of the memory from all those years ago.
“Olivia, you should leave, we are never going to be together,” I hear him say, standing outside the enormous glass windows of the beautiful hotel we had booked to celebrate.
My heart aches as I gasp for air through the heaviness of my tears. There is no way I can drive home like this. Not yet.
I close my eyes and rest my head on the top of the steering wheel trying to get myself together before heading home for the day, when I hear the passenger door open and feel someone slide into the front seat.
I don’t have to look up to know it’s Noah, who is now sitting next to me in silence.
Giving me space, but also showing me he’s supporting me.
The car door closes quietly but he still doesn’t say anything.
We sit in silence for a few moments before I finally pick up my head, and glance at Noah. The skin under his eyes is puffy and red. I jolt upright and turn to face him.
“I'm sorry, Noah. I shouldn’t have said that,” I say quietly.
“No, Ollie. You’re right and I have regretted it every day since then,” he says, his eyes getting watery again.
I hate seeing him like this, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this emotional. I don’t even remember him crying when his father died. I don’t know what I can say to him.
Does he regret it? It’s been ten years. Maybe he has changed, maybe things are different. We absolutely cannot make any decisions currently when I can still smell the sex on both of us.
“I cannot talk about this right now, Noah. I need time to process everything. We will talk before I leave,” I say, gently placing my hand on his forearm, and watching his glossy eyes move from staring out the windshield to my face.
He doesn’t answer right away, obviously contemplating whether or not to let me leave right now. I have to know why he retired, the Army is his entire life.
“Why?” I continue.
He sits in silence as if he doesn’t want to answer that question, what could have possibly happened that would warrant retiring?
“It was time, Ollie,” he says quietly, barely a whisper. There is something about the way he says it, a sense of urgency, hurt, and heartbreak. It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about whatever happened, and after the added hurt I caused today, I don’t want to push him.
If we’re going to do this, he will have to trust me with the information, to be his support system, but it’s also important not to push him. A lot of things could have happened to cause retirement and it’s not fair of me to demand answers when I can’t give them myself.
“I head back to the city in two days so we will talk before then. But I need time, Noah, and I have to get back for my family's event,” I say. My hand is still on his forearm and he’s placed his opposite hand on top of mine.
The touch is so innocent, genuine, and calming that I begin to crave more of it.
Noah releases my hand, and I, his forearm. He stumbles out of my car trying to stay upright and not slip on the ice below. He makes it to the deck before he turns around to watch me pull away. I wave innocently, and instantly am sad to be leaving.