8
Emma saw Ollie’s red truck had parked out front ten minutes before she was scheduled to finish work. He’d parked far off to the side, probably hoping she wouldn’t notice that he was early.
She noticed.
Is this a date?
Emma had known that her boss, Kaylie, had a brother. But they weren’t actual siblings; there was a story there, and Emma had only heard enough bits and pieces to confuse her.
She’d seen Ollie come in the coffee shop a few times but never waited on him.
He was tall and rather lean. She liked that he smiled a lot when he talked, but he also seemed to be a very serious person.
He wasn’t loud and appeared to think before he spoke—like her.
Kaylie had mentioned he watched and read a lot of science fiction and that he also gamed.
She’d rolled her eyes as she said it, but Emma had caught the note of affection as Kaylie spoke about him.
He’d caught Emma’s interest. But she’d never had a date in her life.
She’d had crushes on a few boys at school over the years, but she’d always tried to disappear into the woodwork at school, not bring attention to herself.
There’d been some subtle bullying. Mostly snide comments about her clothes from girls and boys.
Her family had been poor, and Emma’s clothes had reflected that.
She felt her face heat as she remembered.
Lately she had worked hard with her therapist to learn self-confidence and feel positive about herself.
But she still wavered. She’d felt worthless most of her life.
Her mother had vanished when she was eight, and her father had told Emma it was her fault for being a bad daughter.
Her father was . . . an asshole. Her lips silently formed the word.
In therapy she’d also worked on her perspective of her parents, on understanding why they’d acted the way they had.
And that she was not obligated to be the person they’d shaped her to be.
Emma could still love her father, even though he’d been an asshole.
She could still love her mother, even though she’d abandoned her.
It’d taken Emma a long time to understand that.
One of her father’s closest friends had told her he was dead, murdered by the same man who’d nearly murdered Emma.
She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut, unable to stop what was speeding through her brain. The image of the man who’d kidnapped her sprawled on the snow. Dead. One eye missing because the bullet had entered there.
He’d been about to kill Emma.
But Max Rhodes had shot him in time.
She still dreamed about it. Sometimes Max didn’t shoot in time and she’d jerk awake, her pajamas soaked with sweat.
She jumped every time she heard something similar to a gunshot.
Some teen liked to drive his car on the coffee shop’s street, and he knew how to make it sound like it was backfiring multiple times.
She’d dropped to the floor behind the counter the first time she’d heard it, and every time after, she’d jumped and felt faint.
One time Kaylie saw her reaction and said she’d tell the police chief to make the driver stop.
Emma hadn’t heard the car since.
Her therapist said it’d get better with time.
My mother is likely dead too.
Rumors had swirled that her father had killed her mother.
Emma didn’t know what to believe. She liked to think that her mother wouldn’t abandon a child, but Emma didn’t know what had been going on in her life. If her mother’s experience had been anything like Emma’s when she lived alone with her father, then Emma probably would have run away too.
“Asshole.” This time she whispered it.
Detective Marshall had promised to look for Emma’s mother, but so far all her searches had found nothing.
The woman had vanished the same way Emma’s father had.
Abruptly, with no word. Last year Emma had lived alone for four pleasant months, believing her father had simply taken off for a while.
She’d guiltily hoped he’d never come back.
He hadn’t.
His body had never been found, but Emma had no reason to doubt the man who’d told her he was dead.
For years, Emma had been the loneliest, most boring girl, living in a dump as her father’s slave and picking up soda and beer cans along the road to buy food.
Skipping school to avoid the bullies and humiliation.
But then Noelle Marshall had appeared in her life when it’d turned into a mad roller coaster.
Murders, kidnapping, hostages, explosions.
But after the dust settled, Emma had made a soft landing.
Thanks to Noelle, who’d brought her into her home and promised Emma that she’d always be cared for.
Now her old horse, Harley, had the finest warm stall and the best food. Her cat, Cornbread, batted toys across Noelle’s polished concrete floors and had his choice of safe, sunny places to nap.
Emma no longer had to sleep in her clothes and coat to stay warm.
It’d taken time for Emma to believe it, but Noelle wouldn’t vanish like Emma’s parents had.
For weeks, she’d waited for the other shoe to drop.
For Noelle to say she’d changed her mind.
For her father to appear and demand she return to being his housekeeper and cook.
Emma had always prepared herself for the worst, but she no longer thought about it 24-7.
She’d learned to breathe and stop looking over her shoulder and worrying about the future.
Noelle had taken her to a lawyer, where the two of them explained that Noelle had set up a trust so Emma would never again have to pick up roadside cans and shake out the chew spit so she could return them for money to buy dinner.
She could afford to go to college. She could afford to buy warm boots.
And jeans that fit and coats that weren’t stained hand-me-downs from a church closet.
Emma was safe.
So many changes in the last two months.
And now she had a date. Maybe.
Perhaps Ollie was being nice to her because Kaylie had told him to.
“You can clock out,” said Pearl, breaking into Emma’s thoughts. “He’s out there waiting.”
Emma turned to the woman, who was studying her intently. Pearl was kind. She was Kaylie’s aunt, and her kids were young adults. She’d known Ollie for years.
“Ollie’s a great person,” she told Emma. “And you’ll find you have a lot in common.”
“Impossible,” Emma whispered. No one had had a shitty life like hers.
“Ask him.” Pearl gave her a quick hug. “Go. Have a good time.”
Two minutes later, after a quick check of her hair and a silent affirmation session, Emma went out the door. Ollie immediately stepped out of his truck. “Hey,” he said.
“Hi.” She fidgeted with her bag, not knowing what to say.
“I can drive you—”
“I’d like to drive myself.” Emma had already considered this.
She wanted to be able to leave the hike (date?) at any point if things went south.
“I’ll follow you.” Noelle had bought a little crossover vehicle with all-wheel drive because, depending on the weather, the local roads could suck.
Noelle had called it a house car, saying she needed a backup vehicle at home, but no one drove it except Emma.
She knew Noelle had purchased it specifically for her, but no one admitted it out loud.
Emma was thankful. She could drive to work. If she decided to attend the community college, she could get there. She could go to the grocery store—she tried to do most of the shopping since Noelle had stopped her from constantly cleaning the house as a thank-you for putting a roof over her head.
“You’re not here to clean my house,” Noelle had stated when she caught Emma scrubbing one of the showers. “Take care of your cat and Harley. Keep the stable clean. Those are your responsibilities. Nothing else.”
Emma thought about Noelle as she drove behind Ollie and his truck.
Living with her had helped more than therapy.
Emma now had someone to look up to. Someone to emulate.
Noelle was smart and kind and driven. Emma wanted to be Noelle when she grew up.
She wanted that confidence and ease with people, so she watched Noelle carefully and took notes.
She had tested her confidence on customers with good results. No one looked at her in sympathy anymore. No one looked through her as if she didn’t exist anymore.
Now to test it on Ollie.
She would survive this date.
Ollie slammed his truck door and watched Emma come around her vehicle. She wore shorts and tennis shoes and had added a pink baseball cap stitched with the outline of a cat’s whiskers and ears. She looked up at him from under the brim and smiled.
Ouch.
Punched in the stomach again. But in such a good way.
“Where’s the trailhead?” she asked. She carried a bottle of water and slid her phone into the back pocket of her shorts.
“Over there.” He pointed to the far end of the parking area. “I can put your water in my backpack,” he told her. “I’ve got some energy bars too if you get hungry.”
“Thank you.” She handed over her bottle.
Minutes later they were on the trail. It was an easy hike. Ollie had picked it because it was flat and the path was wide, so they could easily talk. They had started in silence, but she quickly took the conversational lead and peppered him with questions about his classes and his dog, Shep.
“You should have brought him,” she said.
“Next time.” Ollie had purposefully left his constant shadow behind, not wanting any distractions.
“How long have you had him?”
Here goes.