Chapter 45 Olive
Chapter forty-five
Olive
My feet ache, even in sneakers.
The sun has been blaring down on my skin all afternoon. My step count’s probably well over twenty thousand, and my body feels like it’s about to be torn limb from limb.
"Surely you guys have seen enough," I say with a groan while my entire family pose for photos in front of every iconic New York City building or landscape that we’ve passed.
If we were playing ‘spot the tourist,’ they would lose immediately.
We sat front row at Avery's game against the LA Lions, but it wasn’t enough.
My family wanted more. So when Avery and I had to fly back to New York for training and his next game, they decided to "hitch a ride," as Lizzie put it, and we all piled onto his jet.
But, they insisted on staying in a hotel.
Not with Avery in his five bedroom penthouse, even though he offered.
As Cassandra liked to remind me, Harley and his business partner, Robbie, had just bought a hotel right near Times Square, so they all had a place to stay.
"Just one more, and we’ll be done. I promise," Lizzie says, pulling her phone out ushering our entire group to line up in front of the Empire State Building. "Excuse me," she says to a couple passing by. "Could you please take our photo?" They agree and Lizzie rushes back over to our group.
Cole stayed in California to start shooting his new movie, while Jenna remains well and truly part of Team Herring.
"Three, two, one, smile!" the woman shouts, while the man beside her practically has to scoop his jaw off the floor when he spots my brother-in-law.
After the photo, Harley signs the guy’s phone case, and we head back to their hotel, Lizzie’s arm locked in mine.
"Have you told him yet?" she asks, turning to face me with a gentle smile. I don’t bother asking who she means.
"No," I say, shaking my head. "I just haven’t found the right time. I swear I’m not putting it off, I just want it to be…"
"I know," she cuts in.
I’m grateful she knows me well enough to know I would’ve struggled to admit it to her. Confessing to my mom was already hard enough.
"If Avery’s the man I think he is, he won’t care how long it takes.
Just make sure you tell him before it’s too late, okay?
" She nudges me with her shoulder, and I nod with a low chuckle.
"Are we allowed to come to his game tonight?
" she asks, sidestepping the rush of bodies trying to collide with hers.
"Uh, if you want to? I can message Orlando and see if we can get extra tickets. You don’t care about seeing Ryder?" I tease her, waiting for the light to turn green so we can cross.
"That man may have given me the hottest sex of my life, but he is not my future husband. I’ve already forgotten about him and moved on."
Of course, she has.
We weave through the crowd, and my phone vibrates in my pocket, but I don’t reach for it. I’m enjoying this too much to lose the moment to a screen.
By the time we make it back to their hotel, Cassandra has put Willow down for a much-needed nap, and my phone buzzes again.
"Sorry," I say, fishing it from my pocket. "I think this is important."
Lizzie’s phone chimes before I can answer Orlando’s eighth missed call or read the dozens of texts. She pulls it from her bag, her face turning ghost-white as she reads whatever’s on the screen.
"Olive," she croaks, her lip trembling, a single tear falling from her left eye. "Is it true?"
I think she meant for it to be a whisper, but everyone hears her.
I feel their eyes on me. Mom, Dad, Cassandra, Harley, Lizzie, and Jenna all look up from their phones—each of them wearing a different expression.
Mom looks heartbroken. Dad’s face has turned to stone. Cassandra’s red with rage, Harley is already trying to cool her down. Jenna looks at me with quiet concern.
But Lizzie—God, Lizzie looks at me like... I can’t even describe it.
She looks shattered beyond repair.
I answer Orlando’s ninth call before facing the wrath of everyone else.
"What is it?" I snap, emotions swelling in my chest.
I already know why he’s calling. It’s the same reason everyone’s looking at me like that. But I need to hear it from him.
"Have you heard from Avery?" he asks, voice laced with concern.
"I—no. What’s going on, Orlando?"
"He’s been MIA since the press release dropped, and now I’m really fucking worried. I’ve got meetings back-to-back and can’t get to his place. Are you close?"
"What press release?" I ask the room, and the man on the other end of the line, but I focus on Lizzie. When my sister holds her phone up, my stomach drops.
My heart claws at my chest, trying to escape.
"I’m not far," I tell Orlando. "I’m on my way."
I end the call a heartbeat later, and I scramble to grab my things.
"Olive," Dad says, his voice a terrifying warning.
"It’s not true. I’ll explain everything another time, but I promise you, everything written on that screen is a lie."
"We’re coming with you." Mom grabs her hotel key, leaving no room for debate.
Dad, Cassandra, and Lizzie follow close behind, leaving Harley, Jenna, and a sleeping Willow in our wake.
I feel sick.
And not the kind I’ve been feeling for months.
No. This one’s sharper, deeper, like my world could collapse from one wrong word. One misstep.
One false accusation.
How could they?
How could they insinuate Avery would ever lay a hand on me?
How could they think the pictures from my fucking medication…
God, I need to throw up, take a nap, and wake up to find this was just a nasty, twisted nightmare.
But no, this is completely real.
My reality.
My life.
Our life.
"Are you going to tell us what’s going on, Olive?
Because we’re about to get out of this car with Dad thinking another man has put his hands on his baby girl.
We’re about to get out of this car with Mom a sobbing mess, no doubt thinking that she could’ve helped you—saved you—if you just told her.
And I’m about to follow you inside to see for myself. "
"They’re marks from my medication, okay?" I shout, still inside the Uber.
Avery’s apartment building is less than a block away.
I can see it, we’re so close. He needs me, and I need to be there for him.
But I can’t be there for him, without being there for myself, too.
I can’t go inside his building—inside his home—with my relentless family pressing me for answers I’ve been too afraid to give them. Like the fucking coward I am.
"Medication for what, Olive? Stop being so cryptic. Stop talking in riddles. Just be open and honest with us—with me—for once in your life." Lizzie wipes tears from her cheeks impatiently, almost angrily.
This poor Uber driver did not sign up for this.
I suck in a breath, shaky and thin, and finally say the words I’ve been holding back. This isn’t how I ever pictured telling my family, but I don’t have a choice anymore.
It’s either come clean or let them believe what the press is saying about my husband.
"The day the tour started, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis." The car brakes squeal, and when I glance out the window, I realize we’ve stopped right in front of Avery’s building. I swing the car door open, chancing a look over my shoulder, terrified of the faces I know I’ll see.
Mom: Heartbroken.
Dad: Shocked.
My sisters: Disbelief.
"Now, I have to go inside, try to get through to Avery, and hope he’s okay.
I will explain the rest and answer any questions you have about me later, but right now, he is my priority.
He needs my full attention." I shut the door before they can say anything, and head toward the lobby of his apartment building.
"Wait!" Dad’s voice cuts through the chaos in my head, the million thoughts spinning, none of them making any sense.
Always the one who could bring me back to rational.
"How can we support him? How can we support the two of you?
" He blinks away the tears that threaten to spill over, but doesn’t leave the car.
Lizzie opens the window on the other side, with her, Cassandra and Mom nodding profusely to agree with him.
My lip trembles. "You mean that?"
He nods, but says nothing else.
"Keep your phones nearby. I’ll text you."
He climbs back in the car, and I watch them drive away.
Pulling my phone out, I shoot Orlando a text.
Orlando Davis
Just got to his place. I’ll let you know how I go.
I have a statement for whenever he’s ready.
"Let me in, Avery!" I shout, pounding on the door, loud enough for every neighbor to hear. "Please. Let me in."
To my surprise, he opens the door, but doesn’t greet me.
Just stares through me like I’m some stranger.
"What are you doing here?" he asks.
He turns his back and walks away, heading for the living room where it’s clear he’s been holed up all afternoon.
He sits, head down, elbows on his knees, hands balled into fists.
"Because I care about you." It’s all I manage to say as I move to sit beside him. But when I get too close, he flinches, then stands, putting distance between us. He moves to the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the city he’s called home for a decade.
The city he’s devoted his life to, only for them to turn their backs and make him a villain.
"Please don’t, Olive. It’s easier for both of us if you don’t. Get out while you can. You deserve to be with somebody better than me. Somebody who can—"
"I want you, Avery. I deserve you."
"Why?" He turns, voice breaking on the single word.
"Why can’t you accept it? I’m here because you and I are in this together. I’m in this because I want to be in it with you." I take a cautious step toward him, then another, and finally I’m within arm's reach.
He pulls me closer and crumbles against my chest. His cries pierce my heart in ways nothing ever has before. "I’m sorry, Olive. I’m so fucking sorry."
"We’re going to fix this. I promise." I pull back just enough to wipe his tears with my thumbs.
His teary eyes search mine, desperate for hope, for release, for anything. "How?"
"With a press conference."