“He wanted to talk the first night together but I wasn’t ready. I’m still not ready,” I say, almost ashamed.
“Olivia, you cannot keep living in the past. I know it's going to be an uncomfortable conversation and it's probably going to suck. And knowing you, you’re going to cry, but you cannot grow without being uncomfortable. So go get uncomfortable,” she says.
I know she’s right but it took me months to pull myself out of the hole after Oklahoma, with the help of Caroline and Mason. Am I interested in opening that door up again?
Yes. My brain instantly screams yes. There’s no hesitation in that answer. I sense the smile emerging on Caroline’s face through the phone, yet again but we both knew there’s only one answer moving forward.
“Thanks, Car,” is all I need to say before hanging up the phone. I park the car in the driveway of my parents’ house and immediately grab my phone to text Noah.
Me: Friends, let's start there.
I may not be ready to start a relationship with him yet, but the least I can do is work toward rebuilding the friendship we once held, where we were able to be in the same place without feeling an awkward tension pulling us together. Even if I think that tension is always going to be there.
I slide my phone into my pocket and look out the windshield. Pen and the boys are sledding down the hill behind our parents’ house, Cole and Carter are standing at the bottom, watching me in my car. I see Cole lean over and say something to Carter, and everyone starts smiling.
And for the first time since being back in the dreaded Fisher Creek, Wisconsin, I’m happy. Genuinely and wholeheartedly happy to be here and for what is to come.
Chapter 16
Noah
Ineedtorun.Ineed to do something. But as soon as I walk back into the house Bec and Mom are in the kitchen again. They’re getting ready to hang the decorations for tonight, most of which they can do without me, aside from the string lights Mom hangs on the old wooden beams of our house for “ambiance” or whatever.
They both turn to look at me, faces dropping as they see me alone, assuming what happened. I’m in no shape to have a family gossip session and hang lights right now, so I turn down the hallway, walk back into my bedroom, and try to close the door gently. But instead, it slams, the whole house shaking.
Our house is old but has been renovated over the last ten years, with the exception of the outdated wooden beams and the hardwood floor that Mom is obsessed with. The interior walls are an ivory color and the brick fireplace is now gray stone with warm terracotta tones to accent the wooden beams. Everything ties back to those damn wooden beams.
Lying on my bed and looking up at the ceiling I realize this is the only room in the house Mom didn’t change much. She took the typical teenage boy stuff off the walls and repainted them but it's the same navy-grey color it’s been forever.
I sit up and move to the large lounge chair I used as a teenager to read and play video games in. The bed smells of coconut and lavender, like Ollie’s conditioner. I swear she hasn’t changed the scent since high school. She always smells like a tropical beach.
The sound of quiet footsteps fill the hallway and stop outside my bedroom door. There’s a 50 percent chance it's Bec going back to her bedroom, or someone coming to summon me to decorate. I'm not in the Christmas spirit, and I don’t want to see people tonight. I'm looking forward to finding Archie and hiding in the corner of the room, watching everyone in my hometown gossip and judge each other.
There’s a small knock on my door, and I just know it's Bec coming to find out what happened and too see if I'm okay.
“Come in,” I shout as my phone buzzes.
The door creaks open and Bec peers in, looking apprehensive about coming into the room, as if things were flying around. Okay, maybe it happened one time. I don’t have the opportunity to look up to further acknowledge she’s here before I read the text.
Ollie: Friends, let's start there.
I can feel my facial expression changing but I'm not sure what exactly I'm feeling. I’ve never been great at sharing my feelings or emotions until therapy, after another comrade passed away. Then I learned I have lots of feelings, and learned how to classify them and triggers for specific ones.
This is different, this is a mixture of relief, happiness, and anxiety all in one. What are we giving a go? Past me would say she’s giving me a chance to be friends again. But maybe she wants to just talk about Oklahoma.
“Breathe, control your face,” Bec says, coming into the room and closing the door realizing that something has happened. I throw the decorative pillow at Bec’s face and just stare at my phone.
“She’s giving me a chance to be back in her life, Bec,” I whisper, not entirely sure this is happening.
“How is that a bad thing? You looked like you lost your dog when you walked back inside,” Bec says.
“I told her I was retired, and she panicked and ran. I thought I lost her forever, Bec. I know I just got her back into my life…but it feels real, like everything’s clicked into place and the look on her face made me anxious in a way I haven’t felt in a long time,” I answer.
Bec may be six years younger than me, and we haven’t always been so close, but I'm incredibly grateful to have her, and the relationship we have built.
Bec is my best friend. She has always been the support system, holding our family together, especially after Dad passed.
Bec comes over and gives me a very light hug. We’re not a hugging family so it's odd she’s hugging me, but also feels very right at the same time.
