Normally, hugging Ollie is casual, friendly, something we do all the time without thinking. But this time… this time is different.
I let myself sink into it, letting the exhaustion from the day, week, years, settle across my shoulders. My head rests just above his steady heartbeat, the rhythm grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed. His arms band around me, strong and warm, holding me closer than usual.
The scent of his firefighting t-shirt, fresh laundry soap mixed with him, fills my senses, comforting and intoxicating. I know I shouldn’t feel like this, shouldn’t let it make my chest tighten and my thoughts spin. And yet… there it is. That forbidden flicker, the part of me that’s always tried to keep him at arm’s length, now squirming, alive in the middle of this hug.
“You got it,” he says before stepping back.
Owen pulls me in for a hug, which surprises me. He usually acts like I’m trying to murder him when I hug him these days. I know he needs it because he hugs me back, but he usually pretends he’s too cool for hugs.
“Thanks, Ollie. For everything,” he says as he hugs him next, and my heart clenches a little.
“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow at practice, buddy.” He waves as he heads up the back stairs to the apartment he lives in above the shop.
"Hey,” he calls. “There are some subs on the table there that I picked up at Harvest & Honey. Text me when you guys get home.”
“Thank you.” I smile gratefully. “I will.”
We shrug on our coats, and I turn out the lights. My body aches with every step like I’m carrying too much weight, and I guess I am. Only it’s mental weight.
We drive home in my old pickup, and the silence in the cab presses around us until Owen practically falls asleep against the window.
When we walk into the house, I flip on the kitchen light, and the fridge hums loudly like it’s mocking me.
A little prayer slips out, quiet and desperate. “Please, God. Just a few more jobs this week. Something. Anything.”
Because Owen deserves full plates, a warm home, and a life where people don’t bully him.And I’m going to give him all of that. No matter what it takes. I’ll work twenty-four seven and forgo sleep and anything else if I need to.
Ollie’s earlier words flash through my head. I think about how fast he showed up and how he stood up for Owen and me. And he does it without questioning it.
I’ll be calling the school and the sheriff’s office tomorrow to follow up and let them know I’m aware. They’d better not let that happen again, and Iwillbe following up on what happens to Toddy. This is not okay.
I lean my head against the cold metal fridge door, head throbbing from stress. Then, I take Owen’s backpack from his shoulder and set it on the chair. “Why is it all wet?”
He rubs his bruised cheek, embarrassed and tired. “They threw it in the shower.”
My chest tightens, and I can feel the prickle of tears gathering behind my eyes. My chin wobbles before I even notice it. How can people not see how precious this kid is? How could anyone treat him like that?
“I’ll help you,” I tell him, my voice a little shaky as I unzip his backpack and start pulling everything out. My hands shake slightly, not from fear, but from the rush of wanting to protect him from a world that can be so cruel.”
“Go on,” I say gently. “Go take your shower. I’ll get it all cleaned up.”
He nods and heads down the hallway, looking so small that I want to keep him in a protective bubble and away from assholes like our dad, Coach Toddy, and those mean kids. He doesn’t deserve any of that.
I sigh and stand alone in the kitchen for a long minute, staring at nothing, heart too heavy in the quiet. I clean up and head to the shower, hoping there’s still some hot water.
Three days later, we’re at Walker and Violet’s house, which smells like rosemary and garlic, and the kind of warmth I dream of a home smelling like. I’ve called around and asked about rentals, and nothing is available. I’m still looking, and well aware that the clock is ticking. We have to figure out a plan soon. Lights twinkle outside the frosted-over window across their back patio, music hums from the speakers in the living room, and the whole Bridger Falls crew is gathered around Walker and Violet’s long wooden table.
Owen sits wedged between Cami and Ollie, telling them some ridiculous basketball story with wild hand gestures while he eats garlic bread. His voice is animated, and he looks happy and safe. And, today, that’s good enough for me. Our world is falling apart, but that is what’s getting me by.
“Poppy, you need a refill?” Violet taps my arm, breaking me from my wandering thoughts.
“Sure,” I say. “This was so good, Violet. Just what we needed. It’ll probably put me into a food coma, so I’ll finally sleep tonight.”
She grins and tops me off with the iced tea pitcher.
Everyone’s laughing at something Walker said. Owen’s cheeks are pink from the heat of the fireplace and too many dessert samples. And Ollie… he looks stupidly handsome sitting there, relaxed in a faded shirt that fits his shoulders unfairly well, smiling at me.
Maggie raises a brow at the three of us and says to me quietly. “You know… You two look like a family.”
