Chapter 15 OLIVE
OLIVE
Human Golden Retriever
Ash’s fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel as we merge onto the freeway, the city lights flickering across the windshield like nervous energy.
“Well,” I say, breaking the silence, “that wasn’t a disaster.”
He huffs a laugh. “I was bracing for an emergency exit. Like… crawling out the bathroom window kind of exit.”
“Same,” I admit with a smile. “Your mom didn’t even blink when I quoted Pride and Prejudice over soup. I think she might actually like me.”
He glances at me, eyes soft. “She does. You were… amazing.”
I snort. “I asked for more breadsticks four times.”
“Exactly.” His lips twitch. “You were unapologetically Olive. They didn’t know what hit them.”
A warm flush creeps into my cheeks. I turn to the window, watching the blur of headlights streak by.
“And how about you?” I ask carefully. “How do you feel—about everything? Considering your rocky relationship.”
He thinks for a moment. “Honestly? I feel pretty good. I’ve been thinking about what you said that day, and you’re right. It’s a privilege to still have your parents around. I want to reach out more, try to understand them. Maybe we can build a bridge and actually get each other.”
“That’s a big step,” I say gently. I want to tell him I’m proud of him, but I’m not sure it’s my place.
Ash glances at me, his jaw softening. “I know.”
We lapse into silence for a few beats. It’s not awkward. Just… full. Like the moment after the credits roll and you’re both still processing.
“They asked about your parents,” he says after a moment.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“You okay?”
I stare ahead. “It’s always a little weird. Saying it out loud. That they’re… gone. But I’m okay. You were really sweet, by the way. You didn’t have to hold my hand under the table.”
He shrugs. “I wanted to.”
My heart skips.
The silence stretches again, but this time, it’s charged.
“I wish we could skip to the part where we’re home,” he murmurs.
“Why?” I ask, even though I know.
“Because then I could kiss you without worrying about merging into traffic.”
I bite my lip, heat blooming in my chest. I can’t wait to be home either.
***
But when we pull into the driveway, I spot a figure slouched on the steps near the front door. My stomach tenses for half a second—until the porch light catches familiar curls and a goofy grin.
“Oh my God,” I say, squinting. “Is that Liam?”
Ash leans forward over the steering wheel. “Yep. And unless my eyes deceive me, your brother is hammered.”
Liam throws his arms in the air the moment he spots us. “There you are! Took you long enough, lovebirds!”
Ash parks and kills the engine, sighing. “Buckle up. Hurricane Liam has made landfall.”
I’m already laughing as I open the door. Liam stumbles to his feet, surprisingly steady despite the empty beer bottle dangling from one hand and the disco-level enthusiasm in his voice.
“Hellooo, fake fiancé and future sister-in-law!” he sings, giving me a dramatic bow. “Wait—no, something’s not right there.” He pauses, thinking. “Brother-in-law, that’s it.” Then he snaps his fingers for emphasis.
“Oh God.” I groan, but I can’t stop smiling. “Liam, it’s a Thursday.”
“Exactly.” He winks. “Best night to party. Expectations are low.”
Ash walks up beside me. “Dude. How many drinks have you had?”
“Enough to text my ex and forgive her cat,” Liam says proudly. “We’re friends again. The cat and I. Not the ex.”
Ash snorts. “Good to know.”
Liam claps a hand on his shoulder. “I missed you, man. Thought I’d pop over. Crash your love nest. Remind you what poor life choices look like in real time.”
“You do that on every group chat,” I say, unlocking the door.
“And now I’m doing it live!” Liam grins and follows us inside. “Seriously though, I had a crap day, and tequila sounded like therapy. You don’t mind if I crash here, right?”
Ash throws me a look over Liam’s shoulder. I shrug.
“Bless you both,” Liam says, beelining for the kitchen and mumbling about snacks. “This place is a palace. I feel like I should be wearing silk pajamas and calling people ‘darling.’”
“Silk pajamas do sound nice. So feel free,” I shrug, hiding a grin behind my hand.
“Oh, my baby sister is the nicest. Isn’t she the nicest, Ash?” he asks.
Ash nods in agreement. “She is nice. And pretty, too.”
“Hey, that’s my sister you’re talking about. Shut your filthy mouth.” Then Liam points at Ash. “You. We’re drinking.”
Ash raises an eyebrow. “We just got back from dinner with my terrifying parents.”
“All the more reason to drink!” Liam slurs, already digging around for a bottle.
Ash looks at me. “Do we stop him?”
I sigh. “I think we just supervise and make sure he doesn’t try to climb into the fountain.”
Ash grins, brushing his hand lightly against mine as he heads toward the kitchen. “Guess it’s gonna be one of those nights.”
Liam pauses mid-snack rummage and squints at us from the kitchen doorway.
“Hang on,” he says, pointing a suspicious finger. “You two showed up together.”
“Correct,” Ash says, casually. Too casually.
“Like… together together.” Liam staggers a step closer, eyes narrowed like he’s solving a true crime podcast in real time. “Where were you? What were you doing? Who drove?”
“We went out for dinner,” I say, keeping my voice breezy.
Liam’s eyebrows jump. “Dinner. Together. On a weeknight.”
“Wild, I know,” I deadpan, slipping off my heels.
“With my best friend,” he says, turning to Ash now like a disappointed parent. “You went to dinner with my baby sister. Alone. At night. In public.”
Ash blinks. “We’re engaged, Liam.”
Liam waves that off. “Fake engaged.”
Ash looks at me. I look at Ash.
Technically… still true. But also very, very not.
“We had a meeting,” I say quickly. “With his parents. Dinner with the future in-laws. For the wedding. All very wholesome and fully chaperoned by judgmental retirees.”
Liam narrows his eyes at me. “You’re being sarcastic. That’s your sarcastic voice.”
“It’s also my tired-of-being-interrogated-by-my-dramatic-brother voice.”
He turns back to Ash. “So? Anything to say for yourself, Romeo?”
Ash raises a brow, deadpan. “She ordered the salmon. I paid the bill. We made small talk about tax brackets.”
I cough to hide a laugh. Liam, of course, doesn’t let it go.
“You sure that’s all that happened?” he says, pointing between us. “Because I’m getting a vibe.”
“A vibe,” I repeat, dryly.
“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly proud of his drunken intuition. “Like a sizzling, can’t-keep-your-hands-off-each-other vibe. Just saying.”
“You’re literally clutching a bag of Doritos like it’s your emotional support animal,” I tell him. “Maybe your vibe detector’s a little off.”
He blinks at the bag. “That’s rude. Kevin has feelings.”
Ash snorts.
Liam stares at us, a little too long. Then squints at Ash, then at me. Then back at Ash.
“You’re not sleeping together, are you?” he blurts.
I choke on air. “What?!”
Ash blinks like he didn’t hear him right. “Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying,” Liam goes on, waving his beer lazily, “it would seriously fry my brain if you two were actually doing it.”
I press a hand to my face. “Please stop talking.”
“No, no, hear me out,” he insists, standing up straighter like he’s about to present the most important theory of his life. “Picture this—my best friend. My baby sister. Naked. Together.” He shudders theatrically. “It’s like my personal horror movie.”
“Liam,” I groan. “Your imagination is out of control.”
“It’s not! But the thought of you two is seriously traumatizing!” he says, pointing at Ash. “This man used to pee in bottles on tour buses. And now he’s marrying my sister.”
“It’s not a real marriage,” I mutter.
Ash rubs a hand over his face. “Can we not discuss my bathroom habits?”
But Liam’s on a roll now. “You know, if you were together for real… that would be, like, the ultimate betrayal. Friends don’t bone each other’s sisters.”
I flush from the neck up. “Okay, new topic. Literally anything else.”
“No no, I’m serious,” Liam slurs. “Can you imagine? The two of you, sneaking around behind my back, doing God-knows-what while I sit here, oblivious, just drinking my beer…”
Ash grabs a pillow and hurls it at Liam’s face.
It hits him squarely. He flails, laughing. “HEY!”
“That’s for your imagination,” Ash says dryly.
Liam laughs harder. “Okay, okay. I’m done. Just had to get it out of my system.”
“Thank God,” I mutter, heart still pounding.
He goes back to rummaging with a satisfied sigh. “Still. If you were into each other, I’d find out. I’ve got a sixth sense for that kind of thing.”
“Right,” I say, smiling tightly. “Like the time you thought I was dating the UPS guy because he remembered my name.”
“He was suspicious,” Liam says defensively. “Too many packages.”
And just like that, Liam’s attention shifts back to the kitchen with the intensity of a toddler discovering cake. “I need hummus. Do we have hummus?”
He disappears behind the fridge door, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Ash leans in, voice low in my ear. “He’s not wrong, though.”
“About what?”
He smiles. “The vibe.”
My cheeks flush. And I don’t even try to deny it.
***
The next few hours we do everything humanly possible to act normal. Not just normal—painfully, obviously platonic. Like we’ve never so much as thought about touching each other.
Ash sits on one end of the couch. I sit on the other. A decorative pillow the size of a small country rests between us.
Liam sprawls across the armchair, legs slung over the side, beer in hand, grinning like an idiot. He’s three drinks past tipsy and he's crossed into his affectionate phase. The phase where he turns into a human golden retriever with a beer in his hand and zero volume control.
We’re camped out in the living room, the TV playing some action movie no one’s watching. I’ve kicked off my shoes and tucked my feet beneath me. Ash is nursing a sparkling water, pretending not to laugh every time Liam opens his mouth.
Which is often.
“I just love you guys,” Liam slurs, pointing between us with exaggerated sincerity. “You’re, like… my two favorite people in the entire goddamn world.”
I smile. “We love you too.”
“No, like, really love you,” he insists, slamming his hand over his heart like he’s reciting a pledge. “I mean, look at you, Olive. My baby sister. Grown up. All smart and pretty and—what’s the word—competent. You’re so competent.”
Ash chuckles. “High praise.”
“I’m serious!” Liam nods at me. “You used to cry when your glitter pens ran out. Now you’ve got a real job and a fake husband. It’s wild.”
I snort. “Thanks, I think?”
“And Ash.” Liam turns, dramatically placing a hand on Ash’s shoulder.
“My brother from another mother. You’re the best, man.
You’ve always been the best. You stuck by me when I puked in that cab in Berlin.
You bailed me out of jail in Austin. You even let me borrow your hair gel that one time I thought I had a date with a Victoria’s Secret model who turned out to be a guy named Brad. ”
Ash raises a brow. “Still not over that, huh?”
Liam ignores him and barrels on. “And now you’re fake-marrying my sister. That’s commitment. Honestly, it’s beautiful. If you two weren’t fake, I’d be suspicious, but you are, so I’m not, and that’s why I trust you.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“You two,” Liam says, voice wobbling with emotion, “you just… fit. Like… puzzle pieces. Like PB and J. Like guitars and eyeliner.”
Ash raises an eyebrow. “That last one was a stretch.”
Liam throws his arms around us both in a clumsy group hug. “I’m just so happy we’re all together. This is the golden age of Hart-Ryder friendship.”
I pat his back, laughing into his shoulder. “Okay, Shakespeare. Time for water.”
Liam sighs dramatically and leans into me like a sleepy toddler. “Fine. But only if someone tucks me in.”
“I vote Ash,” I say.
“I vote Ash too,” Liam mumbles, already half-asleep on my shoulder. “He’s got the better arms.”
Ash smirks but doesn’t argue. It doesn’t take long before Liam is out cold—curled up on the couch, one sock missing, mouth slightly open, snoring like he’s trying to start a lawn mower.
An empty glass of water sits on the coffee table, a throw blanket half-slid off his legs. I gently tug it back into place and brush his messy hair from his forehead.
Ash stands behind me, arms folded, watching with a fondness that’s laced with exhaustion—and something darker. Something warmer. Something that sizzles under my skin.
“You’re good at that,” he murmurs.
“At tucking in grown man-children?”
“At taking care of people.” He pauses. “It’s kind of unfair, how hot that is.”
My cheeks go warm. I straighten slowly and turn toward him. He’s so close.
Our eyes lock in the dim glow of the lamp.
“I guess this means separate beds tonight,” I say, keeping my voice light, though my pulse is anything but.
Ash steps closer. Close enough that I feel his breath against my ear as he leans in, lips brushing my skin.
“We’ll be good,” he whispers, voice low and sinful. “But the second your brother leaves... I’m going to bend you over every surface in this house.”
I gasp softly.
He doesn’t stop.
“I’m going to make you scream my name so many times, the neighbors will know exactly what’s going on. The kitchen counter. That window seat. The shower. My studio. I’ll make you blush just walking past a coffee table.”
I swallow hard, knees weak, brain short-circuiting.
He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, wicked grin in place. “Sleep tight, Hart.”
Then he turns and strolls down the hallway toward his room—smug as hell, fully aware he’s rattled me.
I stand frozen for a moment, heart jackhammering in my chest.
I’m definitely not sleeping tight.
I’m sleeping frustrated.
And very, very turned on.