Chapter 46
Oliver
The penthouse feels too large in the quiet. Every sound carries. From the faint buzz of the fridge, the low whir of the heat cycling on, the soft tick of the clock on the wall. Each noise fills the space where she should be.
The air still carries her perfume from this morning. It’s a sultry scent that’s all her. Clean, with a hint of smokiness that used to make me lean closer just to breathe her in. Now it lingers like a ghost I can’t bring myself to exorcise.
I drag a hand across the back of my neck and continue pacing, bare feet silent on the floor.
My phone feels heavy in my palm. Her location hasn’t changed.
She’s still at her mom’s house in the suburbs.
I tell myself I’m just making sure she’s safe, but the truth is much darker.
It’s the only thing that keeps me from doing something impulsive.
Like driving over there and pounding on the door until she lets me in.
Or forcing a conversation she isn’t ready to have.
I stop at the window, my reflection faint against the glass.
How the hell did a proposal meant to prove how serious I am about us end up being the thing that scared her off?
I thought showing her I was all in would make her believe it.
That it would make her stay.
Turns out grand gestures don’t fix fear. They just shine a spotlight on it.
The phone vibrates in my hand, jolting me from my thoughts.
Rina: I’m at my mom’s. I just need some time.
Relief hits first, followed by the familiar ache that’s been carving its way through me since she walked away. At least she hasn’t completely shut me out. At least there’s still a line of communication open between us, even if it’s frayed and worn thin.
I stare at her message, caught between what I want to say and what I should say.
“Put the phone down and slowly back away.”
Kia’s voice slices through my thoughts. She’s curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over her legs, blonde hair pulled into a messy knot that’s starting to fall loose.
I glance at her. “You don’t even know who texted me.”
She arches one perfectly judgmental brow, the family resemblance between us uncanny. “That was Rina. And you’re two seconds away from doing something that will make the situation worse.”
I scowl. “Wrong.”
“Uh-huh.” Her lips twitch. “Because pacing like a feral Roomba totally screams emotional stability.”
The corner of my mouth kicks up despite myself. “Thanks for the insight, Dr. Phil.”
“I’m just trying to save you from yourself,” she says, the words muffled by a yawn. Then her voice dips, the teasing edge fading. “I can see how much you care about her.”
“I love her,” I admit. The confession feels heavy, final, like saying it out loud cements it deeper inside me. “More than I thought I could.”
Kia’s smirk gentles. “I know. It’s written all over your face. I’ve never seen you like this before. I like it. And I like Rina for you.”
I rub a palm over my jaw. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t matter if I’m not what she needs.”
“You are,” she says without hesitation, sounding steadier in a way I haven’t been in days. “Maybe you just figured it out faster than she did. Give her some space to catch up.”
A dry laugh escapes me. “Patience isn’t exactly my strong suit.”
“No kidding.” Her smile returns. “If impatience were an Olympic sport, you’d medal.”
“And if unsolicited advice were one,” I shoot back, “you’d sweep the podium.”
Her grin widens. “Probably. But I’m right, and you know it.” She adjusts the blanket higher on her lap. “If you push now, you’ll just scare her off again.”
I shift my weight, rubbing at the tension gathering at the base of my skull. “And if I don’t push, I’ll lose her anyway.”
“Then she’s not as smart as I thought,” Kia says matter-of-factly. “But something tells me she is. You don’t look at someone the way she looks at you unless you’re already half in love.”
Her quiet confidence lands with unexpected force. I study her for a long moment, trying to figure out when my little sister stopped being a kid and grew up.
“When the hell did you get so wise?”
She gives a one-shouldered shrug. “Trust me, I’m not. I’ve made enough bad decisions of my own. It’s just easier to spot them in other people.”
That earns her a real laugh. One that’s more genuine than anything that’s left my mouth in days. “You want to talk about it? You know I’m a good listener.” I pause. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together. That’s kind of a Van Doren thing—we don’t quit on each other.”
Kia doesn’t answer right away, and a silence stretches between us, heavy but not uncomfortable.
She pulls the blanket tighter around herself, her gaze drifting somewhere distant.
When she finally speaks, there’s a rawness woven through every syllable.
“It’s weird… I never knew Dad because he died before I was born, but I still miss him. Miss what should’ve been.”
The shift in topic knocks me off balance. I hadn’t expected her to go there, and for a second, I don’t know what to say. The ache in her tone lands somewhere deep.
I pocket my phone and move to the couch, settling beside her. The cushions dip as I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her against me. She fits there easily, small and familiar.
“Out of all of us, you were cheated the most. At least I remember a little. Though half of it’s probably stories Mom told me so many times I’ve made them my own.”
She leans into me, her head resting against my shoulder. “We all got the short end of the stick.”
“Maybe,” I acknowledge. “But it’s also what made us so close. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”
Her mouth curves against my sleeve. “Uh-oh, someone’s getting sentimental.”
“Possibly,” I say, brushing her hair off her forehead. “But don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my image.”
She laughs. It’s a tired sound, but it softens the edges of the moment, and the tension that’s been holding the air hostage finally eases.
“I’m lucky to have you guys.”
“Right back at you, Sis.” I press a kiss against her hair and catch the faint scent of her shampoo. It’s something clean and familiar. “You can stay here as long as you want.”
“Thanks,” she says, the sentiment muted but genuine. “I might take you up on the invitation.”
A few beats of quiet settle between us, thick with everything we’ve said. Along with the things we haven’t.
It’s reminiscent of the feeling I had in that hospital room years ago when everything else stopped. Maybe that’s why I hold on so hard when I love. Because I know what it feels like when someone disappears from your life in the blink of an eye.
“So, just to clarify…” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re absolutely sure I shouldn’t drive to Rina’s mom’s house and demand she talk to me?”
Kia groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Only if you’re hoping for a restraining order.”
I grin. “Would that really be the worst thing?”
She shoots me a flat look. “Yeah, it would. And Mom would lose her shit. You might be a grown man, but she’ll still kick your ass.”
That pulls a quiet chuckle from me. “You’re right about that.”
“I always am.” She fights another yawn. “Just give her time, Ollie. She’ll come around.”
I watch my sister for a second before leaning back, the leather of the couch cool against my skin, as my gaze drifts to the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Somewhere out there, Rina’s probably looking at the same skyline.
Maybe she’s talking to someone who understands her better than I can right now.
Someone who knows what it’s like to build walls and call it safety.
The thought settles behind my breastbone. And for the first time tonight, the panic quiets, and I finally relax.
“You’ll figure it out,” Kia whispers.
Maybe love isn’t about holding on so tightly that nothing can slip away. Maybe it’s about trusting what’s real enough to stay.
I hope my sister’s right.
Even if she’s wrong, I’ll keep fighting for Rina until she stops running.
And maybe by the time she does, I’ll have learned how to stand still.