“Yeah. Sam, you don’t have to do that,” she says, resisting my pull on her bag.
“I want to,” I say, peering in her eyes.
She places a hand on my arm, effectively stopping me from walking any further. I turn to look at her, but before I can register what she’s doing, she kisses me. It’s not an everyday, regular kind of kiss. There’s emotion in it. All the things I believe she wants to say and feel are infused in this simple touch of our lips. It’s life-changing and yet, there’s a sinking feeling in my gut that we’re at a crossroads and she’s about to choose the wrong path.
After breaking apart, we walk to my truck in silence, and we ride to Mage Hollow in silence. We are in so much silence it’s deafening. I want to throw up, to scream, to cry, to fight for her to stay in this with me. But I can’t do any of that because, even if she doesn’t believe it, I know her. She needs to retreat inward and process everything before she can deal with this head-on. I’m willing to wait and give her that space. What choice do I have otherwise?
I pull into my parking spot behind Eerie and turn off the ignition. Placing my hand on the door handle, I start to pull it when she finally speaks.
“Sam, wait.”
I spin to face her.
“I-I can’t say it. I can’t tell you that I love you or that I’m falling in love with you. But it’s not that I don’t want to. I want to be where you are and to be sure. You’re amazing in every way, and you’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Please be patient with me.”
I smile at her, the biggest smile I may have ever delivered in my life. My heart feels renewed. Even if there’s a slim chance, I’m willing to go for it.
“I would wait forever, Olivia.” I lean forward and pull her into a hug before pressing a kiss to her temple. Her shoulders shake with what feels like tears. “Why are you crying?” I ask, lifting her chin so I can look in her eyes.
“I just, I don’t know. I don’t deserve you, but I’m so grateful that you’re in my life.”
I swipe the tears from her cheeks and kiss her gently. “I’m not going anywhere. Well, except to work because Terry is standing at the front door waiting on me.” I wink at her and grin.
“Oh, shoot, I’m sor—”
I press a finger to her lips, stopping her from finishing her apology. “Nothing to be sorry for. Go have a great day at work, and I’ll call you tonight.” I hop out of the truck and round the front to open her door. It warms my soul that she’s finally resigned herself to letting me do it. I press one more kiss to her lips and watch her walk toward Black Kettle.
She’s the love of my life, there’s no doubt about it. I may have to watch her walk away from me for good at some point, but right now, I’m going to hold on for as long as I possibly can.
“You going to sit and moon over that girl all day, or am I going to get this thing finished up?” Terry interrupts my thoughts.
“Yeah, sorry, boss. I’m coming.” I walk as quickly as I can to the shop door, unlock it, flick the open sign on, and begin settingup my station. Terry browses the wall pieces, then makes his way to me when I’m ready.
“How’ve you been? Looks like things were a little tense with Beau’s beauty earlier,” Terry says, sliding onto the table and taking his shirt off so I can finish adding color to a collection of birds on his chest representing his granddaughters.
“Is that what people are calling her?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. I’m not a fan of the nickname.
“Ah, you know how it is, new girl, works for him and all. Don’t get your panties in a wad,” Terry scolds.
“Yeah. I do know.” I shrug and dip my tattoo gun into a bright blue ink.
“Is it serious?” he asks, wincing a little at the first strike of the needle into his skin.
“I think I’m falling in love with her, but I’m not sure if she’ll ever be in love with me, if that answers the question,” I say, proceeding to fill in the gaps between his bird tattoos.
“The women in this town, I swear to Christ.” He shakes his head.
“What about them?”
“Well, you know, it’s like they’re all infected by that damn witch’s prophecy. I just had this talk with my granddaughter the other day. Cynthia won’t settle down with her longtime boyfriend because she doesn’t know how to tell if it’s real love. She wouldn’t know love if it smacked her in the face, that girl,” Terry huffs, forcing me to put my hand on his chest to hold him steady.
“What prophecy?” I ask, my stomach rioting at the thought of Irina.
“I mean, it’s not actually a prophecy, but legend has it that Irina was in love with one of the judges during the Salem witch trials. When he wouldn’t commit and run away with her, Irina and her sisters vowed to never again wear their hearts on theirsleeves. It’s not like these women today would be cursed or that any of it is even real, but sometimes I wonder. Their ability to be so dense is astounding,” Terry explains.
I feel like I might throw up. Is Olive unable to commit to our relationship because Irina put a spell on her? Did she curse her to wear her heart on her sleeve as a sick joke, one in which Irina would never actually allow Olive to be vulnerable and open to love? Or is her hesitancy simply because she isn’t sure she’s in love with me specifically? I’ve never asked her what exactly Irina told her the first time they met, but she was mad at me that night over the kissing booth situation. I can’t help but wonder if this is suddenly some sort of game. I think what we have is real, but is it? Does she care for me?
I finish Terry’s tattoo in record time. I’m proud of the piece, and he is pleased with it. I clean him up and wrap him so the tattoo stays protected. After he checks out, I shoot Olive a text.
