The Mixtape

Mama had grabbed every fake article she could find on Oliver, and she was now throwing it all in my face as a way to get her way. The worst part of it all? The articles seemed real, since Oliver had never voiced his side of the story. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

I was going to be sick.

“What are you looking at, Mama?”

I quickly put the papers down. “Nothing, sweetheart. Let’s get to bed.” I stood up with shaky hands and tried my best not to reveal my panic in front of my daughter.

My daughter . . . she was mine, and my mother was trying to take that fact away from me. What kind of woman would do that? What kind of person would ruin someone’s life? Reese had been mine for over five years. I’d spent five years raising her, teaching her, loving her, and now my parents were threatening to tear her away from me.

35

OLIVER

“Slow down, Em. What are you talking about?” I asked. She wasn’t making any sense as she stood in front of me. She’d shown up to my house with puffy eyes and a shaky voice.

“I can’t work for you anymore.” Her eyes were swollen, and I couldn’t imagine the amount of crying she’d done the previous night. I didn’t know what had brought her to spend the evening crying, but I hated that I hadn’t been there to comfort her.

“What happened?” I asked, concern overtaking me as I stepped in her direction.

Her shoulders dropped and rounded forward. “It’s a long story.”

“I have time.”

“I don’t. I’m sorry. I just wanted to tell you face to face instead of over the phone. I figured you deserved that much.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Her lips parted, and her body began to shake. She was trying her hardest to keep herself together, but she was failing every single second that passed by. “It doesn’t matter, Oliver. I’m handling it. Which means I can’t work for you.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does. I know it’s probably a lot to hear, but I have to do what’s best for my daughter. I have to put her first.”

“Is it about your parents?”

She nodded.

“What does that have to do with me and this job, though? I mean, hell, if you want to quit, that’s fine, Em. But what I really want to know is how I can help you. I need to know what I can do for you.”

“Nothing. You can’t do anything for me.” She glanced down at the tiled floor in the foyer as tears rolled down her face. “Oliver, I can’t be with you anymore. After this, we can’t see each other again.”

That sent a shock of panic through me. “What the hell are you talking about? What does that mean?”

“It means exactly that. I don’t have time for a relationship right now, not with everything going on with my family and Reese. My main focus has to be on her and keeping her safe.”

“Of course that makes sense. But I don’t see why you won’t let me help you. I can do whatever it takes to make sure Reese stays in your custody. I can get you the best lawyers. I can—”

“Oliver, stop. Please. You’re making this harder than it has to be.”

“You’re breaking my fucking heart, so please excuse me if I am making this hard,” I snapped, and I instantly felt like an asshole for doing such a thing, but dammit. My heart felt as if it was going through a fucking paper shredder. I couldn’t think straight.

She wiped away the tears that kept streaming down her cheeks and locked her brown eyes with mine. She didn’t say anything, though; she just stared my way, and with that simple stare, I felt her worry, I saw her fears. I couldn’t help but step toward her and wrap her into my embrace. “Em, come on. It’s me. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I do,” she disagreed, shaking her head. “I do. You don’t understand, Oliver. My father is a powerful force in our small town, and he has connections with people in the law system, and he will use this against me. He will use you against me.”

“How?”

She sniffled and tilted her head up toward me. “They sent me all these articles from Cam about you. They said it shows proof that you being with me is an unhealthy environment for Reese. What’s worse is there’s no interviews or anything from you to counter the assumptions. So it makes you look guilty.”

Son of a bitch.

How could someone shoot so low to hurt another person?

Did they really think they were doing what was right?

Did they think this was the best way to go about everything? By ripping a child away from the one parent she’d known her whole life?