19. Landon
Chapter 19
Landon
I needed coffee. After tossing and turning most of the night and only falling asleep a few hours before my alarm went off, I felt like a zombie. Olivia’s declaration from last night played over and over in my head.
The wreck was Lyle’s fault.
It was absolute bullshit.
Right?
She was just trying to get under my skin and make me second guess my own flesh and blood. Lyle told me all about how Olivia had acted that night, about how she’d insisted they get more booze even though she’d already been drinking. He’d tried to stop her, but she was determined. So he left with her in the hopes he could keep her safe, even though he’d had a couple beers himself. We all saw how that turned out. His side of the car took the brunt of the impact when she’d run off the road and crashed into a tree. He suffered from a concussion and a shattered leg, effectively ending any prospects of him ever playing football again. To this day, he still walked with a slight limp. He would never be right again, and Olivia didn’t even have the decency to take accountability for her actions. Instead, she tried to blame my brother.
My hands tightened around the steering wheel, my knuckles blanching as I turned onto the road leading to the bakery. I pulled up to the back entrance, breathing a sigh of relief that Olivia wasn’t here yet and let myself in. Since I started work so early, I’d been given a key, so I didn’t have to wait for Olivia to arrive to get started for the day. I was surprised she'd trusted me enough to have a key. After last night, though, she would probably insist I give it back.
To say I’d been shocked to see her was an understatement. I never expected her to find out I’d given all her baked goods away. Someone at the garage must’ve told her. Maybe it was for the best. Now that she knew, she would surely stop trying to win me over. It would never happen.
In a daze, I slipped through the kitchen and entered the front of the shop, flipping on the lights as I let out a yawn. My eyes blinked open, and I froze. Glass covered the floor in jagged shards. The front window was smashed clear through, letting in the cool morning air. My boots crunched over the broken glass as I slowly made my way toward the shattered window. There was something lying in the middle of the floor, an object wrapped in paper. Before I could pick it up to inspect it, a shrill cry sounded from behind me.
I turned to find Olivia standing in the doorway, a hand covering her mouth in shock and dismay. Her wide brown eyes darted around the space, taking in the destruction. Finally, they landed on me, and I flinched at the hurt and accusation that flashed in her gaze.
“Olivia,” I croaked, holding out my hand in a placating gesture. Her eyes welled, and her chin quivered.
“Did-did you do this?” Her voice shook as she took first one step toward me, then another. Devastation turned to fury in her gaze. What the hell?
“Is that what you really think of me? That I’d vandalize your bakery?” I ground out, trying to tamp down my annoyance. This probably looked bad from her vantage point, but surely she realized I gained nothing from sabotaging her business.
“You seemed awfully upset last night. It’s not too much of a stretch to think you might want to retaliate, especially since you’ve been harboring misguidedly ill feelings toward me for nearly six years.” I gritted my teeth and squared my shoulders.
“There was nothing misguided about my feelings toward you. You can blame my brother all you want, but you were the one driving that night. You were the one who had too much to drink, and you’re the one who’s at fault for causing that wreck. Grow up, and take some accountability for your poor choices and actions.” The words poured from my lips like venom from a cottonmouth’s teeth. There was no holding back. The floodgates had been opened.
Her eyes, which were usually wide open and blinking innocently, narrowed into slits. Fury blazed in her expression, and her chest heaved. I’d never seen her this angry.
“Your brother tried to kill me that night!” she exclaimed, and I recoiled. What the fuck was she talking about? Lyle loved her. She was his everything.
“Bullshit,” I refuted. She let out a humorless laugh and placed her hands on her hips. She glanced away briefly and shook her head in disbelief before turning her searing gaze on me again.
“Despite what you may believe, I wasn’t drinking that night, and I had the bloodwork to prove it,” she claimed, and surprise rocked through me. That was news to me. I’d heard through the grapevine that the officers at the scene didn’t perform a field sobriety test or a breathalyzer on her, but instead rushed her straight to the hospital despite her only having minor injuries. Nobody said anything about her blood alcohol level. Then again, what happened in a hospital outside of town limits was less likely to be shared.
“But your brother,” she continued, her voice shaking, “was already well past tipsy. And when I refused to take him to get more alcohol, he got angry.” She took another step toward me, all pretenses of civility vanishing. This version of her was raw and real, no sunshiny smile to hide behind. “So angry, in fact, that he took my keys and shoved me, causing me to fall and sprain my wrist.”
The blood drained from my face as bile rose in my stomach. He didn’t. He wouldn’t . Lyle worshipped the ground she walked on. He never would have hurt her. Disbelief roared to life inside my chest as I watched her for any signs of deceit.
“Everyone thought that injury had come from the wreck,” she said, her voice dropping almost to whisper, “but it didn’t.” A look of utter heartbreak and betrayal swirled in her amber gaze.
“Then why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell anybody what really happened?” I challenged. She pinched her eyes shut and drew in a deep breath to settle herself.
“Your brother had already lost enough. His dreams were shot all to hell. I didn’t want anyone to turn on him for hurting me.” I swallowed hard before asking her to continue.
“Then what happened? If he took your keys, how did you end up driving?”
“I begged him to let me have my keys back,” she claimed, her voice trembling as tears glistened in her eyes, “and agreed to take him to get more beer. He was acting very erratic and stumbling all over the place. I didn’t want him behind the wheel. I was afraid he would hurt himself or someone else.” Her voice cracked on the last word. “He’d already taken something earlier in the night, and the alcohol?—”
“Wait,” I snapped, cutting her off. “Are you saying he was high?” She winced, and her expression grew somber.
“I don’t know if it was a pill, or he snorted something or… I-I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head in dismay.
“I don’t believe you,” I growled, my nostrils flaring as I tried to tamp down my anger. “He didn’t start doing drugs until after the accident.” She shot me a sympathetic look, and I wanted to make her take it back.
“I wish that were true.” Genuine sorrow filled her gaze, and I stumbled back a step. Was she telling the truth? “He’d already been using for a while when the accident happened.” Her declaration felt like a kick to the chest. This whole time, I’d blamed the accident—and his subsequent injuries—for him developing a dependence on opiates, but if Olivia was to be believed, it started well before then. My heart momentarily stopped before returning to a gallop.
“It was only at parties at first. He said he was ‘dabbling’ before he got to college and had to keep his nose clean. I begged him to stop, and he promised that the graduation party would be the last time.” Sadness washed over her features, and I tried to catch my breath. My mind reeled from the revelation. Lyle was already using before the accident.
“What happened next?” I demanded, desperately needing the full story.
“We got in my car. I was completely sober. I rarely drank at parties because I knew Lyle would, and I’d have to drive us home. I told him we were going to get more beer, but instead of turning onto the road to the carryout, I headed toward your house. When he realized what I was doing, he started yelling at me and demanding I turn around. He called me names and promised to make me regret it if I didn’t do what he said.” She swallowed hard, her body visibly shaking as she became lost in the memory. There was a far off look in her eyes as though the scene played in her head like a movie.
“As we neared the bridge, I started to relax because that meant we were almost there. Then suddenly, he gripped the wheel and jerked it. Hard. I tried to fight him off to correct the trajectory of my car, but he was too strong, and I was already injured. My wrist was so weak, I couldn’t even hold on. The car skidded and swerved, and before I knew it, we were careening off the road. We went over the embankment and crashed into a tree. The airbags went off, and smoke filled the air. My car was almost completely on its side, and I had to hang there helplessly, believing Lyle was dead.” A sob tore up her throat, and her shoulders curled forward. The gesture sent a sharp spear of regret through my chest. “He wasn’t moving, and I couldn’t find my phone to call for help. It was the middle of the night, and I hadn’t seen anyone else on the road. I was afraid no one would find us, and we’d both die there. There was so much smoke, I thought the engine was on fire.”
Tears streamed down her face, and her shoulders shook as she took a shuddering breath. I didn’t want to believe her. This version of the story was so far removed from what Lyle had claimed, but her reaction was so genuine and visceral, I couldn’t deny how real it felt. Either she was telling the truth, or she was the world's greatest actress.
“H-how did you get out?” I asked, needing to know every detail and to watch her closely for any sign she could be lying. I couldn’t yet admit to myself she was telling the truth, even though I felt it in my gut. It settled there like a lead weight, and I nearly doubled over from the pressure.
“My car was still running so I rolled down my window and cut myself lose from my seat belt.” My eyes widened with her confession. How had she cut herself loose? Reading the question on my expression, she continued. “My grandmother insisted I keep a special tool on my key ring with a seat belt cutter in case of emergencies. I guess it’s a good thing I’d listened to her,” she said with a humorless huff of laughter.
I ran a frustrated hand through my hair before dragging it down my face. This was a disaster. Had everything I believed about that night been a lie? Lyle had been so convincing when he recounted the events leading up to the crash, but Olivia’s claims rang with truth. I didn’t know what to believe. I hung my head and stared at my worn work boots as though they could give me an answer.
The paper-wrapped object on the floor that I'd noticed earlier caught my eye, and I tilted my head to study it. Crouching, I tentatively reached for it and plucked it from the floor. I stood, turning it over in my hand, gauging its weight.
“What is that?” Olivia asked. I glanced up and found her worried eyes fixed on my hand.
“A brick,” I answered untying the thin piece of twine holding the paper in place. A gasp fell from her lips, and she closed the distance between us. She reached for the paper, but hesitated, pulling her hand back at the last second.
“What does the note say?” I unwrapped the brick and placed it on the floor before unfolding the paper. A low curse left me as I took in the word crawled across the paper in red ink. When I failed to answer her, she gingerly lifted the paper from my hand, ensuring her fingers didn’t touch mine. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. The paper fluttered to the floor, and she took a step away from it as it landed among the shattered glass face-up, the word ‘whore’ clearly visible in bold capital letters.
“Why would somebody write that?” Her widened gaze flew to mine as though I had the answers. I didn’t, but I had my suspicions. If everything she'd just told me was true, there was only one person who would want to hurt her like this.
Before I could reply, flashing lights filled my vision, and a police cruiser pulled up to the front of the bakery. Two Sheriff’s deputies stepped out and shined their flashlights into the shop, effectively ending our conversation. They took our statements separately, and when they finished with me, I called Dean to let him know what had happened.
“Son of a bitch,” he hissed, frustration clear in his tone. “Tell Olivia I’ll get a replacement ordered ASAP. Get me the measurements, and I’ll take care of it.”
“Will do. I won’t be able to work on the reno today. They’re still processing the scene, and I’m not sure they’ll be done before I have to head to the garage,” I said, hating to let him down.
“That’s fine. There’s nothing you can do about it,” he assured me. We said our goodbyes, and I went in search of Olivia. She was still talking to Officer Jenna Marshall when I entered the kitchen. She looked up, and the sight of her red-rimmed eyes caused an ache to settle in my chest. They shone with devastation and fear. I swallowed thickly and nodded to the officer before returning my focus to Olivia.
“Dean’s going to order a replacement pane for the window. It shouldn’t take long since he uses someone local.”
“Okay,” she replied with a sniffle. The sight cracked open my chest. I never thought I could feel this kind of empathy toward her, but after the revelation she dropped on me this morning, I was seeing her in a different light. Maybe she wasn’t the villain in this story, after all. I cleared my throat and continued.
“I won’t be able to work on the renovations today since I have to head to work soon.”
“That’s fine,” she said in a rush, trying to put on a brave face. But she was scared. I could see it in her wide, worried eyes. I suddenly didn’t want to leave her. Would she be safe once the cops finished up here? Would anyone make sure she got home safely?
“Will you be alright?” I asked.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured me, though her hands trembled as she anxiously twisted them in her lap. I turned my gaze to the officer who watched me curiously.
“You’re not going to leave her, are you?” I asked, and she quirked a brow.
“We won’t leave until the scene is processed and the window is boarded up. Then we’ll personally escort Ms. Duprey home,” Officer Marshall assured me.
“Oh, that won’t be ne—” Olivia began to protest, but I cut her off.
“Good. She shouldn’t be alone right now.” I slid my gaze to Olivia who blinked up at me in surprise. There was so much more I wanted to say, but not here. Not with an audience. So I nodded my farewell and slipped away before I could let the fear in her eyes and worry knitting her brow lure me in further. Despite everything she'd revealed this morning, she was still my brother’s ex. And that meant I couldn’t act on any of the feelings swirling in my chest. No matter how badly I wanted to reach out and pull her into my arms, I couldn’t let what I’d just learned weaken my resolve to keep my distance. There was no going back if I crossed that line. I could lose my brother for good if I touched what used to be his.