“What do you mean, this?” I reply, not sure if she means the earth-shattering sex or hanging out.
“All of it, Noah. I live in Milwaukee, no one ever knows where you are going to be. There cannot be a this or an us, and you know it, too,” she says.
“Ollie…” I start to say as her eyes start to get watery. She has always been a crier. When she's sad, when she's happy, when she's angry. Tears. But my chest starts to tighten seeing her crack open like this. “I'm staying stateside, this can work. I want this. I want you.” I finish.
“You got out?” she asks quietly.
“You’re looking at a newly retired US Army Veteran,” I reply.
“When?” she demands.
I don’t answer right away, coming up with the best way to tell her this has been in the works for weeks, but only official as of yesterday.
“When did you get out, Noah?” she asks, again.
The sentence is gentle, but the tone and urgency in her voice tells me I’ve made a mistake. At this point, she is sitting up, facing me, hand no longer on my chest.
“Officially?” I say quickly. “Yesterday, but I have known I was retiring since I came home two weeks ago. I'm staying in Fisher Creek. We can finally do this.”
Silence.
She doesn’t say a word as she jumps out of bed and starts getting dressed.
Not one word.
I don’t think I breathe a single breath either.
Chapter 14
Olivia
Out?
Did he say out?
No.
Absolutely not.
Why wouldn’t he tell me that the other day?
Everything is a blur. I can see him talking but can’t hear a word he is saying as I get dressed. The buzzing in my head gets stronger and louder the longer I'm in this room. My chest has a vice grip on me, and I feel like I can’t breathe. I need to get out of here.
I set rules. And I broke the biggest one.
“Ollie.”
“Ollie.”
“Olivia,” he gently yells. He’s out of bed and standing in front of me, his hands are reaching for my shoulders to stabilize me.
“I need to leave.” I stammer as I start to push past him.
“Olivia, you’re freaking out. You aren’t leaving yet, let’s talk this out. Get some fresh air and let’s talk about it,” he says.
I know he’s right, but I can’t think. I don’t want to talk about it. He is staying in Fisher Creek, only two hours from Milwaukee. My city. My home. I don’t have to see him, but I want to. I know that we’ll be drawn together in that city or even back here, and I will fall again and he will leave, again.
I wasn’t enough ten years ago, so what has changed now?
