Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Olivia was sitting on the couch, watching cartoons on the television when Hunter returned to his apartment. She gave him a wary, distrustful look, and he realized she was probably feeling the same way he was—that her life, her situation, was completely out of her control. She had to rely on him for her happiness, and she barely knew him. That had to be scary. And he needed to make things right for her. He would do whatever he had to do, including eating tacos with a bunch of people who seemed determined to bring him into their so-called family, whether he wanted to be there or not.
After giving Olivia a reassuring smile, he walked into the kitchen where Emmalyn was putting away groceries.
"I've put sliced fruit, veggies, yogurt, and a string cheese in Olivia's new lunchbox, which is in the fridge," Emmalyn said. "All you need to do is make a sandwich in the morning. Turkey and cheese with a little mustard. Olivia said she doesn't like mayonnaise. Can you handle that?"
"I can," he said dryly, wondering just how much of an inept idiot she thought he was.
"Good. Her backpack is also ready to go. She told me she took a shower this morning, so you don't have to worry about that until tomorrow night, but I put her soap and shampoo in the shower."
"You've thought of everything. You've certainly organized her life more than her mother did," he said, irritated with Bree's lack of responsibility. He knew she was grieving, but still… How could she have left Olivia with him so completely unprepared?
"I don't want to judge her too harshly," Emmalyn said quietly. "She lost her husband, and obviously she's in distress."
"I agree, and I want to help her. But she could have stayed here and let me help them both."
"I wish she'd done that, too. I feel bad for Olivia. She hasn't said much, except that her mom cries a lot, which breaks my heart. It's like Olivia has to be the strong one. It's not fair to put that on a kid, especially a six-year-old."
The passion in Emmalyn's voice surprised him, and he wondered if she was only thinking about Olivia, because it felt like there was something else going on, perhaps something to do with the secrets she'd hinted at. But asking that personal question might invite personal questions in return, and that wasn't a road he needed to walk.
Emmalyn grabbed her buzzing phone from the counter. A frown tightened her lips as she looked at the screen. Then she sent the call to voicemail.
"You can take that if you need to," he said.
"I don't need to, and I don't want to."
"Boyfriend?" he couldn't help asking.
She quickly shook her head. "No." Her phone buzzed again, and she declined the call once more. "I should go back to my apartment. I need to grab my cookies for taco night. Shall I meet you in the courtyard in fifteen minutes?"
"That sounds good," he said, knowing that even fifteen minutes alone with Olivia would probably be a challenge, but he couldn't tell her that. "Do I need to pay someone for this taco dinner?"
"Dinner is on Gabe and Madison. Some of the other residents are bringing apps and desserts. There's always a donation jar on the table, so you can toss in some cash if you want to. It's very easy and informal."
She had no idea how difficult it actually was to join their party. He'd spent the last seven months in isolation, and he felt like he'd forgotten how to be social, how to talk to people.
As Emmalyn walked toward him, she suddenly paused and put a hand on his arm. He almost jumped at the unexpected and warm touch. It suddenly felt like forever since anyone had touched him in a way that wasn't related to his rehab.
"Sorry," she said, dropping her hand. "I was just going to say I'll introduce you around tonight. It won't be as awkward as you think."
"I appreciate that. When it comes to parties, I'm a little rusty."
"You don't have to do anything. Just be yourself."
"I'm not really sure who that is anymore."
Surprise flared in her eyes. "Maybe it's time you found out."
"Well, I don't really have a choice, so…"
"So, you'll come and see what happens. Olivia's arrival might turn out to be a gift, Hunter, a reason for you to get out of this dark apartment and experience some light."
He didn't bother to answer, because she was already headed into the living room to tell Olivia she'd see her soon. He was still thinking about her words when he heard the door close behind her. He was starting to miss the light, but there was a part of him that didn't believe he deserved anything but darkness.
Olivia got off the couch and came into the kitchen, carrying two small stuffed animals in her arms. She gave him a sorrowful look, and he tensed for whatever she was about to say—that she wanted her mom—or worse, that she wanted her dad.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"My show is over. Can I have another one?"
He let out a breath of relief. "Of course." He was happy he could actually solve one of her problems. It felt like a small but important victory.
Emmalyn let out a breath of relief as she left Hunter's apartment. She was happy to help Olivia, but being around Hunter was unsettling. While he hadn't completely changed her initial impression of him being dark, moody, and withdrawn, she was beginning to understand why he had isolated himself from not only the Ocean Shores group but also the world.
He'd had to heal from his injuries while grieving his friend and dealing with a tremendous amount of guilt, which seemed to be unwarranted, but that didn't diminish the fact that he was feeling responsible for what happened. It wasn't the best time for him to take on a six-year-old girl who had her own dark pain to deal with, but Olivia's mother had left him no choice.
To his credit, he had allowed himself to take the help she'd offered because he cared about Olivia, even if he didn't know what to do with her. He was trying, and she respected that. She also hoped the taco party would make them both feel more comfortable at Ocean Shores and give them a chance to escape the stress of their losses for a little while.
As she headed toward the stairs, she ran into Lexie Price and Kaia Mercer, two of her best friends in the building. Lexie, a pretty brunette with a friendly smile, was the niece of their manager, Josie Bell, and had quit her high-powered career as an attorney to become a photographer and also to help her aunt with the building management. Kaia was a sharp-edged, quick-witted, red-haired paramedic who was a fiercely loyal friend and had a heart of gold that she sometimes covered up with biting sarcasm.
Kaia raised a questioning brow. "Did I just see you come out of Hunter Kane's apartment?"
"You did," she said, steeling herself for what was coming.
"Why? How? What's going on? Is he dead? Because I can't imagine he'd voluntarily let you in."
"He's fine," she said dryly.
"And…" Lexie prodded. "There has to be more to this story."
"When I came downstairs earlier, I saw a woman dropping off her six-year-old with Hunter. It was a tense scene. He looked uncomfortable, and the little girl started crying, so I stepped in to help."
"He has a kid?" Kaia asked with a raise of her brow. "Interesting. I wouldn't have imagined he had a child."
"It's not his daughter. Olivia is his best friend's child. His friend was killed in the crash that injured him."
"That's sad," Lexie murmured.
"It is. Olivia's mother dropped her off because she was desperate for help, and Hunter is now in charge of her until the mother comes back."
"That sounds complicated," Lexie added. "I feel bad for all of them."
"So, what's Hunter like?" Kaia asked. "He's so unapproachable; I've stopped trying to get to know him."
She didn't really know how to answer that question. "I'm not sure. He's definitely not an open book. He only accepted my offer to help because Olivia was crying, and he has no experience with kids." She paused. "I talked him into coming to taco night, but he's concerned he'll get asked a lot of questions."
"We're not going to grill him," Lexie said.
"I don't know. I have a few questions," Kaia said with a smile.
"Well, don't ask them tonight. Hopefully, he'll see what a good group we are. I think he could use some friends around here, people who aren't tied to the military, to his past."
"That makes sense," Lexie said with an approving nod. "I'm glad he's coming. And you're very sweet to help him, Emmalyn, especially since he's not the friendliest guy."
"He's not, but I don't believe he's a mean person. Just someone in pain."
Her words brought new expressions to their faces, a mix of speculation and curiosity. She immediately shook her head. "Don't start making something out of nothing," she warned.
"He is very good-looking, even with the rough edges," Kaia said. "You must have noticed that."
She ignored that comment. "I have to go upstairs and grab my cookies." As she went up the steps, her phone buzzed again, and Linda McGuire's name ran across the screen, making her stomach tighten once more. She sent the call to voicemail, but as soon as she got into her apartment, it rang again. Annoyed with the relentless persistence, she picked up the call. "Hello?"
"Finally," her aunt said, a mix of irritation and relief in her voice. "I've been calling you for two days, Emmalyn."
"I've been busy, Aunt Linda. What's so important you need to call me every thirty seconds? Or should I even ask?"
"It's your mother."
"Of course it is. What is it this time? You think she might be finally ready to leave? Because I don't believe that will ever happen, and at some point, you have to give up." She didn't enjoy being so cynical, but she'd finally made peace with the fact that her mother would never change, and she needed her aunt to do the same.
"She's sick, Em."
Her stomach tightened. "How sick?"
"I'm not sure. She needs to go to a doctor, but they won't let her leave the compound. Jeremy tells her to rest and take more herbs."
Jeremy was the latest in a long line of men who had been coupled with her mother, none of whom had ever been good for her.
"How do you even know that?" she asked. Her mother had been living in a commune on a remote farm in the hills north of San Diego. The members of the group called Haven had limited contact with the outside world.
"I go to the farmers' market in Criton once a month. She first showed up there three months ago, and we've met twice since then. We talk for a few minutes when she takes a break."
Her aunt had been haunting the local farmers markets for years, since it was the only place her mother had ever been allowed to go.
"I thought she looked bad the first time I saw her there," Linda continued. "But the last two times, she looked even worse. I told her she has to leave, and for the first time ever she didn't tell me to stop trying to get her to leave Haven. She's scared that she's really sick. I think she's finally ready to cut the ties. And this Sunday is my next and maybe my only chance to make that happen. If you go with me, she won't be able to say no."
"Of course she could say no. I begged her to come with us before, when I was twelve, and the last time I saw her seven years ago, when I was twenty-one. She refused both times, remember? My wishes didn't matter to her then; they won't matter now."
"She was different this last time, Emmalyn. It can't hurt to try, right?"
It could hurt her. She'd finally gotten her life together. She didn't want to go back to the past, to feel conflicted again, to hope that her mom might make a different choice now.
"Emmalyn, please," her aunt begged. "I know it's not fair to ask, but I'm really worried."
Her aunt had always worried about her mother. Sara was Linda's younger sister by three years, and Linda had been living in Europe when Sara had taken her to live at Haven when she was five years old. Her mother had been alone and desperately poor, and the commune had offered her a family and support. It was only later it became clear once you came to Haven, you could never leave. It had taken seven years for her aunt to track them down, and to eventually get her away from the group, but her mom had refused to leave with them. By then, her mother had been brainwashed into thinking the outside world was bad, and the only people who loved her were at Haven.
"Your mom has made a lot of mistakes," Linda continued. "And maybe I'm wrong to ask you to get involved again in her life. You're doing so well now, but I don't know what else to do. This could really be it; the last time I can save my sister. I can't give up on her."
Her aunt's fear was palpable, and Emmalyn drew in a deep breath, struggling with what she needed to do and what she wanted to do.
"Are you still there?" Linda asked, desperation lacing every word.
"I'm here." Her hand tightened on the phone. "All right. I'll come to the farmers' market on Sunday, but I wouldn't get your hopes up. My mother has never taken my feelings into consideration—nor yours, for that matter."
"I keep hoping, Em."
"I know. Hope is a hard thing to let go of, but sometimes you have to."
Her aunt ignored her comment. "I'll be there at ten thirty. She usually takes a break around eleven. I'll send you the address and directions. Unless you want to go with me? I can pick you up. Or you can come by here?"
Her aunt lived twenty minutes in the opposite direction. "I'll meet you at the market."
"Are you sure?"
"When I make a promise, I keep it," she said.
"Then I'll see you Sunday."
She ended the call and sat down on her kitchen stool, feeling a little dizzy, and not at all sure she should have agreed to go. She had so many deep and painful feelings about her mother that her aunt was asking her to put aside so they could save her. But her mother had never wanted to be saved. That was the real problem.
How could she help someone who didn't want to be helped? How could she allow herself to hope her mother might finally choose her when she had never done so before? As she remembered the night her aunt had taken her away, her mind moved to Olivia. She'd seen the same confusion and pain in Olivia's eyes that she had felt when she'd ended up living with a woman she barely knew.
Forcing thoughts about meeting her mother out of her mind, she focused on what she needed to do right now, and that was make Olivia feel more comfortable with Hunter. To do that, she would need to help Hunter feel more comfortable, too. But he seemed a bit intractable. Hopefully, taco night would change that.