“She’ll be down soon. You know, Ollie, she rarely wakes up before noon,” I say, going for a reassuring casual, but the crack in my voice betrays me.
Kat’s fork hovers over her plate. “I know,” she says, her voice soft. “I just hope she’s okay. You don’t think she left, do you?”
I shake my head, taking a sip of my coffee to avoid answering. The truth is, I don’t know what to expect from Ollie. Not after last night.Which is why I was up most of the night making sure she wasn’t a flight risk in the middle of the night.
The sunlight through the cabin’s sheer curtains paints Kat’s skin in gold, making her freckles glow like constellations. I want to map them all, to know every one by heart, but the worry in her eyes is palpable.
I reach across the table, my fingers brushing against her arm.
“Kat, look at me.” She lifts her gaze, her eyes wide and searching. “Ollie doesn’t run away from the things she wants. She runs toward them. Head fucking first.”
Kat’s eyes halt, locking onto mine like something just clicked into place.
“Okay, now I’m nervous for a whole different reason,” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. She sets her fork down on her plate and leans back in her chair. “What if she runstowardme?”
I chuckle, but the sound gets stuck in my throat when I catch the way her pulse jumps in her neck. “Do you want her to run toward you?”
Kat hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip. Then she gives a tiny nod.
“Then you’d better be ready to catch her.”
“You would seriously be okay with that? With sharing me with…with Ollie?”
I take a slow breath, my fingers tightening around my coffee mug. The heat from the ceramic burns into my palm, grounding me in the moment.
“If it’s something you both want, I’m not going to be the guy to stop it from happening.” The words leave my mouth faster than I can think. “I’ve shared a lot of things with Ollie. Never a person. But, you would be my favorite thing I have in common with her.”
Kat’s eyes widen as she stares at me, her lips slightly parted. The air between us feels charged, like the moment before a storm breaks.
“You’re serious,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Let me ask you this…do you feel guilty about kissing Ollie?”
“No…I mean…not exactly,” she says, fighting with her words. “I honestly expected to regret it. I thought I was going to wake up drowning in guilt, but instead I feel…relief.”
“Relief?” The word tastes strange, but it unlocks something tight in my own chest.
She nods. “I thought wanting Ollie meant something was broken with us,” she admits, almost hesitant. Her lips part, and for a second, I think she’s going to say something more, but the sound of footsteps on the stairs cuts through the tension like a knife.
We both turn toward the hallway just as Ollie appears, her black hair tucked behind her ears, dressed in jean shorts and a black crop top, her tattoos on full display, her expression unreadable.
“Ollie!” Kat practically yelps, jumping up from the table. “I made breakfast!”
Ollie freezes in the doorway, her eyes glued to Kat as she scurries across the kitchen and starts assembling a fresh plate of sausage gravy.
“Thank you,” Ollie finally says, and shuffles to the table.
Her movements are all wrong—stiff, like a robot learning to assimilate with humans. Incredible how a woman who dances on bar tops and argues with cops is now reduced to a hesitant whisper after just one kiss.
She slides into the chair farthest from me, keeping her gaze fixed on the plate Kat sits in front of her.
“Smells good,” she says, her voice flat.
The silence that follows is a physical thing, thick and choking. Kat’s hopeful smile starts to wilt at the edges. I watch Ollie shrink into herself, her shoulders hunched, and something hot and sour coils in my gut.
I hate this. I hate the brittle tension, the way she’s folding in on herself like a paper doll. This isn't like her. This isn’t Ollie. NotmyOllie.
“So,” Kat tries again. “Did you sleep okay?”
