The ache dug deep into the muscle and broke Olivia’s last thread of strength. Her pained grimace turned to sobs on a dime and before she knew what was happening, she was leaning against the wall, her face against her forearm, balling.

“Livvy.” Her sister’s soft voice registered first, then Quinn’s hand on her shoulder.

Olivia startled and turned while stepping away. She put one hand against the wall to balance, her breathing choppy through ragged tears. “M-mom…” She couldn’t get her thoughts together. Couldn’t keep the tears from falling. She pushed her hands against her eyes and shook her head. “Mom d-didn’t li-i-sten. Now she’s ma-a-d.”

The overly simplistic words made her feel three-years-old again, and just as inept. Just as out of control. And Olivia couldn’t stop the tears when they started again. Sobbing, she bent at the waist, crossing her arms over the pain.

“Livvy.” Quinn crouched and brushed her hair aside, rubbing at Olivia’s wet cheeks. “You did the right thing. You told her what she needed to hear even though it was hard for both of you.”

Olivia couldn’t think. She was overwrought with emotion. She slid to the floor and dropped her head back against the wall, trying to regulate her breathing to control the tears. But then Quinn sat next to her and pulled her into her arms and Olivia started balling all over again.

She had no idea how long it took her to empty out. The pain was still tumbling inside her, but her eyes were dry. Dry and swollen and stinging. Olivia could hardly keep them open. She rested her head on her knees and Quinn sat with her, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, her fingers combing through her hair, the way they used to as kids—while watching TV, reading books, coloring, trying to fall asleep.

She took a shaky breath. “I miss you.” The words came out weak and broken. Olivia cleared her throat. “I miss us. I miss the way we used to be.”

“Me t

oo.” Quinn leaned her head against Olivia’s and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

Olivia sighed. Just the small break in the wall between them seemed to release pressure in her chest. “Why?”

“Tate said something tonight…it made me realize that I’ve been pushing you away all these years. I didn’t even really know why.”

She lifted her head and wiped her face. Quinn loosened her arms and when Olivia pulled back, she saw Quinn had been crying too. She rubbed at her sister’s wet cheeks. “What do you mean?”

“Tonight, he said that the way he feels when he’s with you is too good to give up even knowing he’ll hurt when you leave.”

Her breath stuttered and another wave of tears pushed to her eyes. “He…said that?”

“Yeah. And it made me realize that I’ve been pushing you away for exactly that reason. Losing you has hurt so much, that when you’re home I don’t want to let you close because I know you’re going to leave again. But after Tate said that, I realized I’ve wasted years holding you away.”

Her voice grew frail and her tears joined Olivia’s as her head dropped against her sister’s. “I don’t want to do that anymore, Liv.”

Olivia snaked her arms around Quinn’s waist and hugged her tight, nodding against her sister’s head. “Me either.” She exhaled heavily and spontaneously asked, “Want to come live in France with me? I bet you’d love it.”

Quinn started laughing, which made Olivia laugh, too. “Yeah, I really do.” She pulled away and looked at Olivia. “But lets get mom on her feet first, so we can just have fun.”

“Deal.”

Quinn released Olivia and pushed to her feet. Then she offered her hand. “Come on. I’ll let you boss me around in the kitchen.”

9

Tate wandered among the tables on the covered deck at the Croft’s home and picked up empty trays as inconspicuously as possible. They gave him a reason to visit Olivia in the kitchen even though every time he did, she told him he distracted her. But as the day wore on and more guests arrived, Tate had discovered more and more men hanging out in the kitchen chatting with her when he wandered in. Men clearly interested in more than her cooking skills.

He felt that little tick festering in the pit of his stomach, a mix of jealousy and self-doubt. And he’d done a decent job of dousing the smoldering ember with logic and rationale. Now, he was just holding out for the end of the party, when he hoped he could convince her to come home with him—if not for the entire night so he could wake up with her, at least for several hours where they could be alone. Where Tate could lavish some attention on her and what would soon be—if they weren’t already—sore muscles. Where Tate could get his fix.

Because he needed an Olivia fix.

Badly.

The fact that this was a big fucking problem with her exit coming so soon was a constant thread of tension he just keep shoving to the back of his mind to deal with later. He didn’t have a hell of a lot of options.

His cell chimed. He pulled it from his back pocket and found a text from his agent Dave Burnett. Tiffany and I will be home from Greece in a few days so we’ll be at your Afterschool Advantage dinner next weekend. I bought the tickets online today. Tiff said you have a great party planner. Can I get her info? I need to set up a series of dinners for a handful of college kids I’m recruiting for NBA and NFL in a couple of weeks. Just dinners, accommodations, sight-seeing trips. Thanks.

He texted his agent back. Fantastic. Look forward to seeing you both. My planner is great. I’ll send her info in a few.

Pocketing his phone, Tate searched the deck for Teresa. She was sitting in a small group with her back to him, chatting with Tina Croft and Betty Bradfield, a longtime neighbor of the Crofts who occasionally babysat Lily in a pinch. He wandered that direction, waiting for the right moment to interrupt.

Tags: Skye Jordan Rough Riders Hockey Romance
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