Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Rhett
“How should we split responsibility for him?” Olivia asks as she pets the puppy, who’s peeking his head between our two seats. We’ve decided to call him Maverick.
“I don’t know. I figured he’d kind of be like your dog while you’re here.”
“Rhett, we can’t do that to him. He’s a rescue. He needs stability, and if I’m going to leave, I can’t become his primary person. He needs you too. That’s the only reason this was supposed to work.”
“Okay, then what do you suggest?”
“Could you bring him into work like Carol mentioned?”
“That depends on how well-behaved he is and if Austin, my boss, says it’s okay.”
She nods, but looking at her eyes, I can tell she’s only halfway here with me. The other half is off plotting the rest of this dog’s life.
“Will we let him up on the furniture?”
“Absolutely not. He’s a beast. He doesn’t belong on the furniture.”
She immediately covers Maverick’s ears while her mouth hangs open. “You take that back. He’s an angel. I think he should be allowed to sleep on the bed with one of us.”
“First of all, letting him sleep with you isn’t going to help make it any easier when you leave. Second of all, if I’m going to be the one keeping him in three months, then I make the rules. He doesn’t go on the beds, the couch, or any other furniture in the house.”
“Fine, Tin Man.”
“Okay, we aren’t going to make that a thing.”
“I don’t know. I kind of like it. It has a nice ring to it.” She smirks devilishly.
I want to be annoyed right now, but my body is betraying me. My heart is pounding just a little faster in my chest, and a smile is blooming on my face. Stop that.
I pull into the driveway and help Olivia and Maverick out of the car. He doesn’t budge when I grab his leash, staring at the house like it’s a monster.
Olivia crouches down to him. “I know it’s scary to come to a new place, but this is going to be your home now. We’re going to take good care of you.” She presses a kiss to his forehead and gets up, patting her side. Just like that, the dog starts trotting toward the front door. I guess I’m not the only one Olivia has an impact on.
As the three of us walk into the house, it feels like we are part of a family, but we are so far from it, it’s not even funny. I hate that a part of me wants something like this, and I really hate that a part of me is picturing it with Olivia of all people. I know better.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Well, it’s getting late. I should head to bed.”
“You’re not going to hang out with him for a bit? We should let him explore his new home before sending him to bed.”
“He’ll be fine.”
“Would you be fine if you were abandoned and left alone with no one to care for you? Then, imagine you get taken in by someone who seems safe, but you’re quickly thrown into the home of strangers. Would you still feel safe?”
“Fine.” She gives me a satisfied smile. “What do I need to do?”
“We should set up his space and then give him time to explore the house. We just need to show that we are safe people, I guess. I don’t have all the answers.”
I pull his bed from where I set it by the front door and move it to the corner of the living room. Olivia helps me set up the kennel near the kitchen. When I go to fill a Tupperware container with water for Maverick, my eyes snag on the big catering box on my counter. The lava cakes. Mandi asked me to give Olivia lava cakes.
I pick up the box, turning toward Olivia. “Do you want some cake?”
Her eyes light up. “Is this still your way of apologizing to me?”
“Sort of.”
“I like this. You should keep messing up, so you always have to apologize.”
I roll my eyes as I reheat the cakes. When they’re warm, we take them out onto the back porch. At this time of year, the humidity keeps the seventy-degree temperatures from being too cold, and the lack of sun keeps the humidity from feeling too hot.
Olivia hooks Maverick up onto a long leash Carol gave us so he can roam around outside. I don’t know why she bothers with the leash. The dog is completely infatuated with her, making his home at her feet.
Silence falls over us as we dive into the chocolatey, spongey delights.
Finally, without lifting her eyes from her plate, Olivia notes, “These are fantastic. Where’d you learn to bake?”
“My friend Callie helped me learn.”
“Wow, I want to meet her. She must be a damn good baker.”
“She is. I can introduce you sometime.”
More silence. This is so awkward. Why is it awkward? We just spent a few hours together and got along well, but it feels like there’s something hanging over us. I guess I don’t truly know Olivia, and she certainly doesn’t know me.
I take another couple of bites, basking in the silence for a moment longer before breaking it.
“What happened between you and your parents that makes you so insistent on keeping your distance? I’ve been wondering since you showed up in town… actually probably before that.”
She stiffens, spooning a bite of lava cake. “We’re going to start there?”
“When I apologized, I said I’d listen to your full story. Help me understand.”
She sighs. “I wasn’t always this distant with my parents. My dad worked a fair amount when I was growing up, but my mom was my biggest cheerleader and, really, my best friend. I just felt like she understood me on a soul-deep level, and she was there for me when my friends at school weren’t. Throughout middle school and into high school, we used to have movie nights together. She encouraged me to go after everything I wanted in life, and she made me believe that I could have the world.
“I’ve always had anxiety, but I don’t think I realized what it was in high school. I didn’t have a name for it at least. I knew I stressed more than most of my friends about getting good grades and getting into a good school. Maybe I shut some of my friends out a bit because of how focused I was on succeeding. But it wasn’t until I got to college that I realized there was a name for what I was feeling or that it was maybe a little irregular to feel so anxious about everything all the time. And it got worse. I started making myself nauseous from the stress and had my first panic attack my freshman year.”
I grab her hand without hesitation. Her vulnerability is kind of shocking me. I did only meet her yesterday, and it’s not like we got off on the right foot. Maybe I won some points by agreeing to take Maverick home.
“Long story short, I felt like I needed help, and when my mom learned what was happening, she freaked out. I think she’s always had this insecurity after the miscarriages, like it was her fault she couldn’t have a baby right away. When she saw me struggling, I think it dug up those old feelings, and she felt like she did something wrong when she raised me. Except now she actually had a chance to do something about it, so she did everything she could to step in and help me.”
I’m hanging on the edge of my seat. I thought Olivia was a monster, but each time she opens her mouth, she proves me wrong. Now, I just want to know the whole story so I can understand her motivations.
She scans my face like she’s debating exactly how much she wants to let me in, and I can’t help but hope I look trustworthy enough as I ask, “Why are you hesitating?”
“I’ve told you a lot about me, but I know nothing about you. Maybe you could share something. That’d make me feel better.”
“Okay.” I pause as I try to think of what I could tell her that doesn’t get too deep into the past I’ve been trying to carefully hide. “My favorite color is red. When I was little, I wanted to be a cowboy because I loved the idea of getting paid to be outside and get dirty. Let’s see… oh, and my favorite TV show is Friends .”
“What are you a twenty-year-old girl?” She giggles.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your favorite TV show is Friends ?”
My cheeks flush. “What’s wrong with Friends ? It’s a timeless classic!”
“There’s nothing wrong with it, but I wouldn’t expect some gruff cowboy like you to enjoy it.”
“It’s funny, and I have a special attachment to it.”
She cocks her head. “You mean you actually have a sense of humor?”
I’m trying to act unamused, but I kind of like her sass.
“What’s your special attachment to it?”
My smile from moments earlier is swept off my face, and I immediately close down. We weren’t supposed to get into this territory. I’m not trying to talk with her about my life before Roots. I don’t mean to, but I wind up growling out my response. “A friend of mine introduced me to it in college. That’s all.”
She assesses me for a moment but doesn’t dig further. “Lame.”
“ You’re lame.”
“Oh, good come back. I never would’ve thought of that.”
“Okay, okay. We’re getting off track. It’s your turn. What’s your favorite color? What’d you want to be when you grew up, and what’s your favorite TV show?”
“Okay, um my favorite color is green. I wanted to market for animal shelters because I liked social media and animals, and my favorite TV show is Dexter .”
“ My turn to judge you . Isn’t that the TV show where the guy is addicted to murdering people?”
“Yeah, but he only kills bad guys.”
“That show is one of the most depraved shows to ever exist! Do you seriously watch that? For fun?”
Her jaw falls to the floor. “Are you kidding me? Depraved? He kills bad guys! That’s a good thing. It’s such a great show. Have you even seen it?”
“I don’t need to see it to know how messed up it is. The main character is literally a psychopath, but the writers get you to root for him. That’s messed up.”
She turns to me, fully invested in defending Dexter ’s honor. “The show is a masterpiece! The fact that they can get you to care so much for someone who has very few human emotions and has the urge to murder people is what makes it so great.”
“Did you hit your head at some point today?”
Laughter slips from her lips, and it sounds like music. “I assure you I did not hit my head. You just don’t have good taste I guess.”
“I have excellent taste. You’re the one who likes dark, deranged shows.” A swirl of something mixes in my chest. When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t expecting today to go this way. I didn’t anticipate bringing a dog home or enjoying a conversation with Olivia. This needs to stop. I’m getting off track from my goal for the day. I need to steer this conversation toward the original topic.
“Back to what we were talking about earlier. What was wrong with your mom stepping in to help you?”
“It—got out of hand.” She’s still holding back. “Plus, it made me feel helpless. I felt like I had to start hiding my anxiety from her because it wasn’t getting better, and I could tell that it was killing her every time she saw me that way. I finally figured out the balance to let my parents go on living their lives after I got out of college, and I was proud of myself. Being responsible for another person’s happiness is a big weight to hold on a person’s shoulders.” Her face turns somber. “I never wanted to push them away, but I didn’t know what else to do.”
My heart melts for her. Olivia isn’t a bad person, and she’s not ungrateful either. She is truly driven by a love for her parents, even if it’s misguided.
Ready to be done with this conversation, I pick up our plates and bring them into the dining room. “I need to get to bed. Tomorrow morning is going to be hell.”
* * *
When I wake up at four-thirty in the morning, Maverick is nowhere to be found. There’s a sinking feeling in my chest as I imagine Olivia’s reaction when she wakes up to find out we already lost the dog. She’ll be crushed.
As I move quietly throughout the house, whispering his name, it hits me there’s one place I haven’t checked. I crack the door open to the guest bedroom and find Maverick sprawled out on Olivia’s bed. The two of them are practically spooning.
She’s already broken the only rules we had. Rule number one: don’t let him up on the furniture. Rule number two: don’t get too attached.
That dog is in love with her already, and the feeling is obviously mutual. There’s no way she’s going to be able to say goodbye to him without breaking both of their hearts. As for me, I definitely won’t let him up on the furniture, but it feels too late to avoid breaking rule number two. I hate to admit it, but I’m quickly realizing that rule actually has nothing to do with Maverick.