"Complicated how? Was it the gift I got you? Did I do too much?" she asks.
I drag a hand through my hair, looking anywhere but at her. "Jesus! No. Just… stuff. Family stuff. Work stuff."
"Stuff," she repeats, voice flat.
"Yeah."
She studies me for a long beat, then takes another sip of water. "Okay."
That's it. No fight. No push. Just okay.
But the way she says it feels like a door closing.
She turns to go back inside, but pauses with her hand on the door. "If you ever want to uncomplicate it, you know where to find me."
Then she's gone.
I stand there staring at the door long after it swings shut, the weight of her words settling heavy in my chest.
My shift wraps up, but I can't make myself leave just yet.
I sit in my car in the parking lot, windows cracked, watching the bar's door. I just want to make sure she gets to her car safe. I don't know why I feel this pull to protect her, but it's there, sharp and insistent. I'd do more than protect her if she let me, but no one else needs to know that.
My breath catches when she finally steps out.
She's with two other girls, and relief hits me so hard it almost makes me dizzy. She's safe.
I watch her climb into that little yellow Beetle, then peel out of the lot before she can spot me. I'm fucking exhausted from staying on edge all night.
The trailer's warm buzzing glow welcomes me when I pull up.
Dad's gone for the night on some out-of-town run, so it's just me. I strip off the button-up and slacks immediately, pulling on my old dark gray sweatpants instead. They used to hang loose on me, but now they fit snug. I need to get back to mornings with Diego, jogging or lifting before the day starts.
No shirt tonight. The AC hasn't caught up with the heat yet anyway.
A cold beer and the gray futon are calling my name. A few hours of mindless TV before bed sounds perfect. I crack the beer open, drop onto the futon, and flick on a random channel.
Then someone knocks on the door.
My hand goes to the pistol in the drawer next to me on instinct.
"Who is it?" I shout.
No answer. Just another soft knock.
My pulse kicks up. Nobody shows up here unannounced. Nobody knows about this place except Dad's guys and family, and Diego would've just walked in with his key. What if it's trouble for Dad? What if he's in deep?
I tuck the gun into the waistband of my sweats and crack the door open.
My heart slams to a stop.
"Olivia?"
She stands there in the porch light, offering a small, almost apologetic smile.
"How did you —"
"AirTag with a magnet under your car." She holds it up like a white flag.
