Chapter Eight #2
Olive’s eyes scanned the faces of those waiting to see her, and then immediately glossed over. She kept walking until only a few feet separated them, then lifted her mouth in a smile that fractured almost as soon as it formed.
“I’m sorry,” she said, barely above a breath. Olive’s face flickered through expressions she couldn’t settle on. Relief. Fear. Shame. Love. She looked like she wanted to simultaneously run into their arms and escape. Her eyes settled on Trenton first, then Camille, then her mother.
Falyn stepped forward one small pace, her hand resting on Taylor’s shoulder as she passed him to break free of the group. She swallowed before speaking as calmly as she could. “Hi.”
“Bodhi,” Olive said, gesturing to Falyn with a tear already streaming down her cheek. “This is my mother, Falyn.”
“Hi,” Bodhi said, seeming a bit overwhelmed.
Before anyone spoke again, Olive moved fast, arms open wide.
Once her daughter was safely in her grasp, Falyn made a sound into Olive’s hair. Not a cry. Not a scream. A noise that, as quiet as it was, rivaled her wails in my father’s yard the moment Olive took what we all thought was her last breath.
Trenton stepped forward to hug them both, arms trembling. He shook like he was freezing, holding his breath with so much restraint his ribs shuddered. An ear shattering sob wanted to claw its way out of his body, but he held himself rigid, his emotions caged behind clenched muscle and sheer will.
No one cared about order. They’d formed into a pile of arms and tears and apologies with no language, only a few quiet whimpers. Camille joined them. Then Taylor and finally Tyler and Ellison. Abby and Travis stayed back with the kids, their cheeks wet with tears.
Bodhi stepped back but stayed close. His attention moved from Liis to me, then down to Stella for a fraction of a second, before returning to supervise.
His eyes were calm but cautious. Once he looked back at me, I met his gaze and gave a small nod.
He returned it. An understanding passed without words.
It was going better than we expected, but it wasn’t over yet.
“There’s a sofa in the back room,” Liis said. “If we could all move that way, you can all sit down and catch up.”
Falyn sniffed and shot her a look of pure hatred, but her expression softened as she glanced back to Olive and guided her to the far end of the Longhouse.
Olive sat between Trenton and Falyn, with Taylor and Camille sitting as bookends against each arm of the sofa.
The kids were allowed to greet her, but it was mostly the twins crying into her arms with Hadley, Hollis, and Gavin watching with curiosity.
I was sure their parents had explained to them the best they could, but they were still relatively little when Olive disappeared from their lives.
It was obvious this was an emotional moment, but they couldn’t quite process what it meant.
For the first time, Olive held her namesake in her arms. Oliver gnawed happily at her hair while Camille made her laugh and cry in the same breath, recounting the miscarriage, the pregnancy that followed, and Oliver’s birth—stories Olive had heard before in fragments, passed along during our updates, but never like this.
When we’d told her that Trenton and Camille were finally expecting and planned to name their son after her, she’d shed the same quiet tears.
But now, hearing it from Camille, tears traced her cheeks again, each detail landing as if for the first time.
The conversation naturally progressed to Olive’s account of the last two and a half years, healing from the bullet wound, settling into the new house in Falls Church, the first day of college at Marymount, therapy, meeting Sunny and then Bodhi, and the shooting on campus.
She talked about getting used to her new, made-up name and making new friends and the guilt that came with lying to them and Bodhi while falling in love with him at the same time.
As Bodhi watched, obviously surprised, his face was strained in some parts, but more from holding back the reassurance he wanted to give.
The family listened intently to her every word, then asked Bodhi questions, getting to know him while rediscovering Olive.
On the surface, they seemed relaxed, joyous even…
but I knew better. Beneath it all was the same hatred I saw in Falyn’s eyes when she glared at Liis.
Microaggressions threaded through the peace like barbed wire.
Falyn’s hand stayed on Olive’s arm the entire time.
A tether, and a warning. She was holding her daughter close while also holding herself back. Taylor’s stare kept skipping to me.
Trenton’s jaw muscle ticked often just under the skin, his foot intermittently tapping, unrhythmic. It wasn’t impatience, it was containment. In tiny movements, he was bleeding off nearly three years of emotional wreckage the only way he was allowed.
At some point, Naomi had crossed the Longhouse and taken up a position just beyond the doorway of the back room, arms clasped behind her back, present without intruding. She didn’t intervene. She didn’t need to. Her presence was simply a reminder: no escalation.
After an hour, Olive seemed to become increasingly overwhelmed, relieved only in tiny moments of levity that Trenton or Travis offered.
Liis leaned into my ear. “I think she needs a break. Going to take her outside for a bit.”
“Good luck,” I muttered.
“You’d better keep that luck for yourself,” she muttered, leaving my side to approach Olive.
She was right. We’d made it a full sixty minutes without incident, but once Olive stepped away, I didn’t trust my brothers to hold to Marcel’s terms. Logic aside, I couldn’t blame them.
“Olive? Would you join me for a moment?” Liis asked, leaning down. Her expression softened, maternal—the same look she used with Stella when she was gently redirecting her.
Falyn’s arm straightened across Olive’s lap. “Why? Where are you taking her?”
I straightened from the doorjamb, ready to act but keeping my voice calm. “Just for some air. This is a lot for her. A few minutes to breathe will help.”
“I’ll take her,” Falyn said, closing both hands around Olive’s.
Naomi stepped fully into the room. “Right now, Olive needs continuity,” she said.
“Keep it simple. This would be overwhelming for anyone, and she’s been through a lot the past forty-eight hours.
A few minutes outside with someone she sees every day will help her regulate before coming back in.
” After a small pause, she continued, “You’ll get plenty of time with her, I assure you. ”
Falyn seemed hurt, but she nodded, letting Olive’s hand go. She turned to her daughter, her eyes bright again. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”
Olive leaned in, touching her forehead to her mother’s cheek, then whispered something in her ear. She then stood, immediately looking more at ease as Liis escorted her, along with Bodhi and Stella, to the exit.
Once the heavy entrance door slammed shut, every single one of my brothers looked up at me with murder in their eyes.
Taylor stood. His expression severe, his posture stiff—non-threatening but loaded. “You had no fuckin’ right, Tommy.”
“Later,” I said simply, staring into his eyes.
Trenton looked up at me, then slowly stood. I could see the forced control in his eyes, his chest rising as he fought the adrenaline in his veins and the rapid thud of his heart, jaw set to the point of strain.
I’d seen Trenton angry before. I’d practically raised him and had seen his every expression, mood, meltdown and victory. This wasn’t him angry. He was using every ounce of self-command he had to keep from completely losing control.
One thing I could be sure of, even now, he loved Olive more than he hated me, and he was fighting every instinct to stay with her.
“C’mon, kids,” Camille said, standing with Oliver in her arms. “Wanna play on the bunks?”
The younger kids nodded, excited. The twins hesitated but followed her out.
Trenton waited, then turned back to me. “You don’t get to explain it again,” he said. His voice was tight, controlled in a way that didn’t match his body. “I’ve heard your reasons. I understand your reasons. That’s not what this is.”
I stayed where I was, shoulders squared, hands open at my sides. Not defensive. But ready. Trenton could lose the battle with himself at any moment. Camille saw it, too, that’s why she took the kids and left the room.
“What this is,” he went on, “is you deciding—by yourself—that I could live the rest of my life thinking Olive was dead.”
My throat tightened. I didn’t interrupt.
“She died,” he said. “That’s what you let me believe—knowing I’d just lost Dad and was still grieving the miscarriage.
You stood there and watched me carry an empty casket.
You watched me spiral. You watched me break.
You watched it affect my marriage, the way I experienced the birth of my child, fatherhood.
And you never thought, maybe—just maybe—, you could trust me with the truth? ”
I was glad Liis was outside with Olive. This wasn’t her fight. This was blood.
“You didn’t have to put us through that,” Trenton said, stepping closer. Not into my space, but close enough. “You could’ve pulled me in. You could’ve pulled Falyn in. You could’ve found a way to keep it quiet. You know damn well we can keep our mouths shut.”
“As I explained outside, we didn’t have time to develop another option,” I said. “A plan that required flawless execution from everyone, including children, carried unacceptable risk.”
“There it is,” he snapped.
“Trent…” Abby warned.
He scoffed at her, then glared at me, his eyes full of disgust. “Risk. Your favorite word. You didn’t trust us to keep Olive safe? My Olive. Camille’s Olive. Taylor and Falyn’s Olive. It wasn’t your decision to make!”