Chapter 5
Olivia
Ididn’t mean to say yes. I just didn’t know how to say no, but maybe this is what I need.
A way to settle in, to feel like I belong here.
And I guess I feel like I owe it to Aubrey.
She’s been so kind with the house and everything…
what kind of person would I be if I turned down a job that could actually help her brothers out?
“Did you want the grand tour? It’s nothing exciting. You can get a feel for the place. No pressure to decide anything today,” Kade reassures me.
I nod, and he takes that as his cue to stand. I follow him out of Brandon’s office as he shows me where my office would be, the copier—temperamental, apparently—and the break room.
I stay quiet, eyeing the space, taking it all in. When I glance over my shoulder, I find Kade leaning against the break room doorframe with the kind of ease that makes me feel a little jealous. He looks calm, collected—meanwhile, my palms are damp, and my heart won’t slow down.
I catch him studying me, just like he did earlier in Brandon’s office.
“You okay with a little chaos?” he asks, voice soft.
My lips twitch, fighting a smile. “Define chaos.”
“Messy inboxes, cranky builders, a printer that jams every other hour, and someone—usually me—always forgetting their login password.”
A laugh escapes me. Quiet, but real. It surprises me. It’s been a long time since I last laughed.
“I think I can handle a little chaos.”
“Good to know, Olivia.” Kade smirks, and I hate the way my cheeks flush in response.
“Liv,” I blurt. “I, uh… you can call me Liv.”
“Liv.” He repeats it slowly, like he’s trying it on.
Then he pushes off the doorframe. “Come on, let’s head back to Brandon’s office. You can give us your details so I can send over the boring stuff—start date, salary, hours.”
He smiles, all cheeky and carefree, and I follow, still flushed, still a little breathless, and already wondering what exactly I’ve gotten myself into.
As soon as I get home, I trade my boots for sneakers and head out for a run.
Running has always been the one thing that brought me peace. It gave me time away from my parents and their constant demands. It was the only kind of solitude they ever approved of.
Right now, it’s what I need. A way to clear my head and process the day.
I start slow, jogging down quiet streets, letting my muscles stretch and fall into rhythm. For a little while, it’s just me and the road. No expectations. No mask.
It feels like freedom. Sharp, overwhelming, everything I need.
Until the memories creep in.
***
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I step inside and toe off my sneakers, draining the last of the water I took with me on my run.
As I move through the marbled hallway and past the living room, my mother’s voice cuts through the silence.
“So unattractive to sweat,” she mutters, loud enough to be heard but soft enough to pretend it wasn’t aimed at me.
I ignore her and head into the kitchen, refilling my bottle at the sink, hoping the cold water will take the edge off the heat clinging to my skin. Leaning back against the island, I let my eyes drift to the window, toward the field where Ivy and I used to sneak off and play.
“Thank goodness you’re doing something.”
I flinch at her voice—closer now—pulling me from the memory. I turn to find her standing behind me, dressed in a crisp white pantsuit, makeup flawless and excessive, hair so stiff with spray she might burst into flames if she got too close to a candle.
“Sorry, Mother?”
“Your weight, Olivia,” she says matter-of-factly. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, you’ve started to look chunky. You could stand to lose a few pounds. Regardless of how unladylike it is to sweat, at least you’ve had the foresight to act now. No one wants a fat bride, and white is not forgiving.”
Shock hits me first.
At five foot three, I’m healthy—soft in places, sure, but strong.
I’m not stick-thin, never have been, but I have curves where they belong.
Still, my mother always finds a way to measure me against someone else’s standard.
Her words cut deep, and the sting of tears rushes in, but I swallow the emotion, forcing myself to stay composed.
“I’ve lost three pounds this week,” I say quietly.
She scoffs. “Where? I don’t see any difference. Still the same chunky girl you’ve always been.”
Her voice sharpens like a blade. “Caleb noticed, you know. He mentioned your weight when we discussed the engagement. So, if I were you, I’d work a little harder to shift it. Your husband deserves a beautiful woman on his arm. Not a cow.”
Then, as if she hadn’t just gutted me, she turns on her heel and clicks out of the room.
Only once she’s gone and I’m alone do I let the tears fall.
***
The sound of a car horn yanks me back to the present, and I jolt to a stop on the sidewalk, breath catching in my throat.
I try to suck in air, lifting my arms behind my head to open my lungs. Tears sting my eyes.
Not now. Please, not now.
One hand presses to my chest, moving in slow, firm circles as I focus on breathing.
In… two, three, four. Out… two, three, four.
I repeat it like a mantra, over and over. My chest still feels tight, but I lift my water bottle with shaking hands and take a slow sip. Then another.
You’re safe. You’re not there anymore. You’re brave. You’re strong.
Little by little, my pulse begins to slow. The pressure in my chest eases just enough to let me breathe again.
Feeling too exposed out here, I turn around, head bowed in quiet shame at how deeply her words still manage to cut deep and make my way slowly back toward the safety of my house.
As I walk through the front door, I lock it behind me and slide down to the floor. My back rests against the wood, knees pulled tightly to my chest, eyes shut against the sting.
It’s like I can hear Ivy’s voice beside me, soft and steady. Grounding me.
“It’s okay not to be okay. Maybe we can try again tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a better day.”
My head tips back against the door, and I let the tears fall—for the girl who was never loved enough. And I hope, somehow, I can keep finding the strength to move forward.