“No, I don’t need to.” She wraps her arms around herself tighter, giving herself a hug it seems. “I just want her to be okay. I’m sorry I questioned you. This is all just so unlike her. She’s predictable, cautious. Always where she needs to be, early and overdressed.” She sighs, appearing to let some of the tension go as she unclasps her arms.
The door to Olive’s room opens with a distinct swooshing sound as a physician waltzes out. “Are you Olivia’s family?”Time to lie. Again.
“I’m her sister. This is her boyfriend, Sam,” Ariella answers.
“Okay. She is going to be fine. We gave her a few sutures to ensure minimal scarring from the cut, but overall, it wasn’t that bad of an injury. Foreheads and noses are bleeders.” The physician flips through his chart. “She doesn’t have aconcussion, so I’m assuming she passed out from exhaustion or the sight of her own blood. We have administered some pain medication for the headache, and she’s getting IV fluids. Once that is finished, she will be good to go home. Can one of you keep an eye on her for the night?”
“Yes, thank you, sir,” I say, reaching out to shake his hand.
“You’re welcome. You can go in and see her now. Her clothing is in a bag at the foot of her bed. We needed to check her for other injuries.” He walks away, down the hall and into another patient’s room. I head toward the door, but Ariella places a hand on my arm, stopping me.
“Sam, should I go in first? Just to make sure she’s okay to see you?” Her voice trembles like she’s nervous about something. My skin starts to buzz with suspicion. Why would she not want to see me? What’s the big secret?
“Nope. If she doesn’t want me here, then she will need to tell me that herself. I care about her, Ariella. I’m not waiting another minute,” I say as I slide the door open and push past the curtain. Ariella follows me in.
Olive is lying in the bed, monitors beeping and tubing coming out of her hand. Her head has a small bandage, and she’s covered up by a white cotton hospital blanket. At first, she looks like she’s sleeping, but a slight flutter of her eyelashes gives me the go-ahead to speak.
“Hey, baby.” I sit down in the chair closest to her bed, scooching it up so I can rub my fingers gently down her cheek. “I’m glad you are okay.”
“S-sam. I’m so sorry.” A single tear falls down her face, and I swipe it away.
“No. Please don’t apologize. What happened? Do you remember?”
“Hi, Ollie. I was so scared. I’m glad you are okay.” Ariella stands on the other side of the bed, squeezing Olive’s hand through the thin blanket.
“Ari? How did you know?” Confusion paints Olive’s brow, the strain of frowning causing her to wince in pain and lift her left hand to her head. Ariella’s eyes widen, and her brows shoot into her forehead as I see a very interesting mix of tattoos adorning Olive’s arm.Wait, what? She told me she couldn’t ever get one. Why would she lie? It’s not like I would have cared, it’s literally my job.
“Ollie,” Ariella gasps, grabbing at the sheet to cover her up while Olive’s face turns an almost comical shade of pale.
“Uh, tattoos? Thought you didn’t have any of those?” I have to ask. Why are they making this such a big deal?
“Sam, I . . . It’s not, uh, it’s not what it looks like,” Olive spits out, her voice shaking.
“It looks like you have tattoos. Which by itself is really not a big deal.” I glance at my own to make my point. “I just don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me.”
“There’s more to the story. It’s hard to explain.” Olive won’t look me in the eyes, instead she’s fiddling with the blanket.
“Can you give us a minute?” I ask Ariella, hoping that maybe a moment alone will give me some clarity. This seems like one of those things that shouldn’t be causing this much turmoil.
“No, I’m not leaving her alone for this.” Ariella crosses her arms and juts a hip out in a power stance.
“For what? What do you think I’m going to do to her? I tattoo other people for a living for fuck’s sake. You are constantly showing up or interrupting us. Then you accuse me of causing a fight with her. And now you won’t let me talk to my girlfriend alone?” They noticeably exchange looks, and I start to lose it. Between Olive constantly putting up a wall and Ariella always interrupting us, it’s all a little much. I didn’t think anything of itbefore now, but it's adding up—something's not right here, and I refuse to be in the dark any longer.
“Lower your voice. This is a hospital,” Ariella scolds me.
“No. He’s right. Give us a minute, Ari. I’ll be fine, promise.” Olive looks at Ariella meaningfully before shifting her gaze in my direction. Ariella huffs but does as she’s told and slides out of the room. “You’re right. I have been keeping something from you,” Olive says, turning toward me.
I swallow hard, her words echoing in my head.I have been keeping something from you.Sweat beads on my forehead and nausea bubbles in my belly.
“What is it? You can tell me anything.” I reach out, grabbing the hand closest to me and pulling it to my lips. I place a small kiss on her knuckles before setting her hand back down on the bed and leaning forward to stare into her eyes.
I can’t fathom what she’s going to say. The whole thing seems really dramatic for a few tattoos. But then again, I know better than anyone how misjudged a person can be from having them. For only being two weeks into this thing, I care about her so deeply. I mean it when I say she can tell me anything. “I-I, uh. You’re not going to believe me.”
“Just tell me,” I say, nerves churning in my stomach.
“Well, I was cursed by a witch at the Hollow Hearts Festival.” It’s like an explosion in my head when she says it.What? What does that have to do with anything? I just wanted to know why she lied about having tattoos, and now she’s telling me she’s cursed.
“Sam, say something, please. I’m telling you the truth. Ever since that night . . .” She swallows hard, slowly swiping her tongue out to lick her lips. “I have had these, uh, these tattoos. I never went and got tattooed. They just started showing up.”
