Chapter 20 #2
A soft hand touches my shoulder, grounding me in the middle of my grief. I look up and find Mom standing there, eyes brimming with tears, her face lined with that quiet, knowing ache only mothers carry.
“How long have you been standing there?” I ask, voice rough and thick.
She kneels beside me, her hand never leaving my back. “Long enough,” she says softly.
That’s all it takes. I break. Sobs rip through me ugly, unfiltered, years of grief and weeks of heartbreak crashing out of me all at once. She pulls me into her arms like she used to when the world felt too big, and I let her.
“I miss him so much, Mom,” I choke out. “But I can’t be with him. Not like this.”
Her fingers stroke gently down my back. “I know, hun. I know.”
“I just…” I press my face into her shoulder, voice trembling. “Opal would’ve known what to do.”
Mom pulls back slightly, cupping my cheek with one warm, steady hand. “That might be true. But I also think you don’t give yourself enough credit.”
I blink through the tears, confused. “What do you mean?”
She smiles—a little sad, a little proud. “You were always the one getting Opal out of trouble. Homework, curfews, boys. She was the fire, but you were the anchor. The one who kept her steady.”
I shake my head, but she presses on, voice firmer now.
“I think you’re stronger than you think, Olive. And if Opal were here? She’d tell you that you already know what to do. You just have to stop being afraid to choose it.”
Her words settle deep in my chest, heavier than I expected because they ring true. And maybe the scariest thing isn’t that I don’t know what to do.
It’s that I do.
I reach for her hand, squeezing it tight. “Thank you.”
She squeezes back, eyes shining. “Anytime, baby girl.”
We sit in silence after that, facing Opal’s grave together. Grief doesn’t vanish. But for the first time in a long while, I don’t feel so alone in it.
I clear my throat, staring down at my hands before finally speaking. And once I start, it all pours out.
How it began with a reckless idea. Fake dating to keep the ranch safe, to keep up appearances, to fool everyone but us.
How Lura passed, and suddenly we were sharing grief and a roof, pretending for the world while everything real between us simmered beneath the surface.
How one touch turned into another. How I fell for him.
Hard. Messy. Completely. How I still love him.
How his father showed up with old grudges and sharp words, twisting everything, driving a wedge between us that Liam didn’t fight hard enough to stop.
How I left. Not because I wanted to, but because staying meant losing myself.
Mom says nothing while I talk. Just listens, nodding occasionally, her hand resting lightly on my knee. Not once does she interrupt or offer platitude. She just holds space with the kind of grace only a mother can give.
When I finally run out of words, she takes a breath and says, “I always thought there was a spark between the two of you. I’m sorry his father ruined everything.”
I shake my head slowly, my voice quieter now. “His father might’ve been part of the reason. But if that’s all it took to break us…” I swallow, the truth stinging. “Then maybe our foundation wasn’t strong enough to begin with.”
She looks at me gently, eyes filled with both love and the kind of understanding that comes from having lived through her own heartbreaks.
“Maybe. Or maybe the foundation was strong but unfinished. And you both stopped building when things got hard.”
That thought knocks the wind out of me a little. Because maybe she’s right. Maybe we didn’t fall apart. Maybe we just gave up too soon.
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit. “Part of me wants to run back and fight. The other part is just so damn tired.”
Mom squeezes my hand. “Then rest. You don’t have to decide everything today, Olive. Just don’t close the door all the way if your heart isn’t ready.”
“I don’t know what to do about all my things,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “They’re at his house. And so is my cat.”
Mom taps her finger against her leg, thinking. “Why don’t you send him a PeopleBook message?”
A surprised laugh bursts out of me, a small crack in the weight pressing down on my chest.
“I think you mean Facebook,” I say, smiling despite myself. “Maybe I’ll just text him.”
She pats my knee and rises from the bench, giving me a soft smile. “I’ll leave you and your sister to figure it out.”
When she’s gone, I sit there for a long moment, the cool breeze playing with the hem of my jacket. Finally, I pull out my phone, the device suddenly feeling heavier than it should.
I open our old text thread, and, despite everything, I can’t help but smile.
The last time we talked, we were bouncing t-shirt ideas around for the ranch's side business. Well, Liam was tossing out terrible ideas, and I was shooting them down.
Liam
What about "He doesn’t kiss and tell. He ruts and struts"?
Absolutely not.
Party pooper.
I already told you my favorite.
Fine. Get a mock-up of it.
I trail my finger over the screen, my heart twisting. It feels like a lifetime ago and yet, it’s still so painfully close.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard for a long moment before I start typing, the words spilling out slower than I expect.
Hey. Sorry if leaving was a surprise the other day.
Liam, I really don’t know where we went wrong. Everything was wonderful and then your dad showed up. And we let him ruin what was blooming between us.
I stare at the blinking cursor, my chest tight. It’s not everything I want to say. It’s not enough. But it’s a start.
I press send before I can second guess myself.
The message flies off into the digital void and now, all I can do is wait.
And hope.