Gil flinched but nodded. “You were right. He was a bad man.”
“He was mean.” She scuffed her blue sneaker into the floor. “I-I’m glad he’s not alive anymore.”
“Me too.” Gil squeezed his eyes shut for a second before opening them again. “I agree that Uncle Jeffrey was bad, but Justin is one of the good guys. Look at him. You’ll see.”
Olive pursed her lips suspiciously, eyeing up Justin. “I dunno.” She traced his face, his chest, his legs, and back to his eyes. Her head cocked as if deliberating. “I don’t think I want you as my weird godfather, but you can be my friend...I guess.”
Justin chuckled. “Gee, thanks.” He bent down again, whispering, “I promise I’ll be a trustworthy friend who doesn’t kidnap you.”
“You better not.” Her fist shot up in a laughable but totally serious threat. “I only want to live with Daddy from now on.”
Gil froze in bed. His gaze lost the pride and adoration, filling with torture and the familiar unhappiness of before. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a hiss, doing his best to shove aside whatever had terrified him before Olive noticed.
His head turned, his gaze caught mine.
The electrical current that refused to be cut hummed with honesty.
He’s afraid.
Afraid of being arrested and imprisoned.
Afraid of having Olive taken from him.
My chest filled with painful pressure. He’d only just been reunited with his daughter. They deserved their happily ever after, but this was just an intermission. A brief, sweet interlude before real-life wedged between them again.
Gil had promised Olive that it was all over.
He’d lied.
It’s only just beginning.
“O...” Gil’s eyes tightened, pain etching into his skin. “Can...can we talk?”
Justin twisted to look at me, his eyes narrowing. He rocked his head in a come-hither gesture, moving away from Gil’s beside. “Here, take my spot.”
I couldn’t move.
Talking was too dangerous.
I’d made my decision.
I couldn’t take it back.
No matter if Gil might face prison and Olive’s future was uncertain. No matter if this little family was once again split up.
They weren’t mine to care for or worry over. I shouldn’t fear what would happen to the tiny girl I’d just met, or the boy I would never forget. I should pick me.
I will pick me.
I will walk away.
I will say goodbye.
Gil’s energy wrapped around mine as physical as a hug, as brutal as a fist, as sharp as claws. We didn’t need words to talk. We communicated right there, in our silence.
He shouted apologies.
I shielded my intentions.
He begged me to move closer.
I stood my ground.
This was safe.
Distance was safe.
Gil’s forehead furrowed, accepting the mess between us, and knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that whatever we’d been, whatever we’d had, whatever we could have been...was over.
The tension between us thickened with clouds, a rumble of thunder was the sounds of hearts breaking.
Justin shifted by Gil, his hand skating on the bedspread.
Olive immediately pushed him away, her voice high and worried. “Don’t hurt him. He has a hole in his tummy. Things might fall out.”
Justin coughed. “A hole?”
I fought my smile, amazed that I found Gil’s injury humorous thanks to his adorable child.
Gil groaned, struggling with his own grim grin. “I told you, little spinach. It’s not a hole anymore. Things won’t fall out of me.”
“But I saw it. Back at Uncle Jeffrey’s. Blood fell out of you. Lots and lots of blood.” She looked as if she fought tears and a tiny bit of rage. “You said that if I ever hurt myself that bleeding wasn’t good, and I should get help straight away. But you were sleeping and didn’t get help, so you still have a hole where blood can slip out.”
Gil twisted in bed, swallowed his grunt of pain, and scooped his daughter into a side hug. Pressing his lips to her hair, he murmured, “I love you so, so much.” His smile glowed with affection. “You’re very sweet to worry about me, but I did get help. I’m in the hospital, and the doctors sewed up the hole inside me. I’m all better now. See?” He raised his arm, showing no blood stained the white sheets around him. “No more bleeding.”
“I dunno.” Olive wrinkled her nose in distrust. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Never better.”
“But you said it hurt when I hugged you there.” She pointed at his side. “You shouldn’t be in pain. I don’t want you in pain. If the doctors can’t fix you, I can. I know I can.” She wriggled in Gil’s embrace. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
Gil kissed her nose before letting her go and reclining against the pillows. “You do make it better. Just having you here takes all my pain away.”
Olive pouted. “No, it doesn’t. I’m not magic, you know.”
Justin chuckled, catching Gil’s eye, sharing the vibrancy of the little girl willing to stand up to agony for daring to hurt her father.
Gil gave me a quick look, his face unguarded for the first time since I’d answered his job advertisement. No hidden secrets, no diabolical blackmails, just him in a hospital bed with his daughter from another woman fussing over him, and my heart healed a little. It let go of its own pain and sense of betrayal, repairing a tiny piece of friendship.
My feet drifted toward Gil without my permission. I joined their group, not in touching distance, but no longer ready to bolt out the door.
Gil sighed heavily, his gaze tangling with mine. His head tipped down in a silent thank you.
My voice scratched as I asked, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
He grimaced. “I should be the one asking you that.” His eyes flashed. “O...God, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. And it won’t ever be, but I need you to know how grateful I am. I took far more than you were willing to give. I’ll never forgive myself, but you’re the reason I found Olive—”
“Don’t.” I held up my hand. “I understand.”
Justin cleared his throat, moving away a little, giving us privacy.
This wasn’t the place to discuss.
Not with Gil fresh out of surgery, cops barricading the door, and his daughter who listened to every word.
“But how can you stand there and—”
“Because it’s my choice what to forgive and what not to. It’s over.” I sighed, signalling an end to airing dirty laundry. “It’s okay, Gil. Truly.”
He snorted as if he couldn’t believe me. His mouth opened as if to argue but I shot my attention to Olive instead. “You’re wrong, you know.”
Olive pinned me with her grey stare. “Wrong? About what?”
“About not being magic.”
“I don’t get it.”
I nudged my chin at Gil, smiling gently. “You do take his pain away. I knew your dad before you existed, and I knew him while he was searching for you, and I can say you are definitely magic. Want to know how I know?”
Olive licked her lips, her gaze so eager to learn. “How?”
“You make him happy.” I looked at Gil, unable to ignore the pull. To ignore the truth of what I said. “You make him whole. You take away all his pain, internal and external.” I dropped my attention back to her. “You truly are magic...to him.”
“Am I, Popeye? Do I really do that?” Olive sidled closer to Gil.
He wrapped an arm around her tiny shoulders. “Definitely. All the time. Without you, there’s something missing deep inside me.”
“Me too.” She pressed her face into his chest. When she pulled away, tears shone on her cherub cheeks. “I’ll make sure I make extra magic, so you can get better super-fast and can come home with me.”
“S
ounds like a great plan.”
Justin’s phone beeped. “Sorry, guys.” Pulling it from his pocket, he withdrew from the tender family moment and went to stand by the window, typing quickly on his phone.
Gil caught my eyes over Olive’s embrace.
A vortex sucked us into the same undeniable depth we’d always shared. Tension appeared from nowhere. The air became heavy. The possibilities of so many futures and fates waiting for us to decide.
Gil broke the unbearable quietness. “I know it isn’t worth much, and for some reason you don’t want to hear it, but I truly am sorry, O. From the depths of my soul. I’m forever in your debt.”
“Enough.”
But he didn’t stop. “I need you to know I will always love you. I will always adore you for what you’ve done for me—both willingly and unwillingly. I don’t expect to ever hear you love me back. I know that’s something I lost and the price I had to pay.”
I dared meet his green gaze; my spine threaded with steel.
He wasn’t supposed to talk of love.
He wasn’t supposed to be so open or genuine.
I wasn’t protected against this new Gilbert Clark. This honest, hurting, hopeful version who no longer believed in silence but in truth.
How could I tell him I’d come for closure? That I’d emptied my hope of ever having more with this man and now only wanted a farewell?
“I had to see you...one last time.”
His body stiffened, fear licked into his eyes. “One last time?”
“I’m very glad you’re okay. That you survived...for Olive’s sake.”
And for mine.
I might not be able to be with him but I didn’t want him dead.
Gil was sweet with a heart full of affection and protection to give. He’d just never really been given the opportunity without monsters tearing that heart to pieces.
In a way, I was failing him at the worst possible time.
But time never did play fair when it came to us.
“He...he didn’t hurt you, did he?” He swallowed hard. “Please tell me I arrived before he—” His voice cut off, unable to verbalize what could’ve happened if he’d been five minutes longer.
I wouldn’t have just had rope-burned wrists to treat but a whole host of other ailments. Rape kits and counselling. Stopping those thoughts, I shook my head. “He didn’t hurt me.”
“He yelled at her,” Olive said, popping into the conversation. “And then he whispered some things that made her go all white and strange-looking, like she’d be sick.”
I winced, studying Olive and what Jeffrey had threatened. How he’d planned on selling both of us. How Gil might never have known the fate his daughter was sold to. “He wasn’t a nice man, was he?”
Olive narrowed her eyes. “Nope. Not one bit.”
I smiled, shaking away that night all over again. “But you’re with your dad now and things will be better.”
Gil flinched, knowing as well as I did that things might be about to get worse.
“Yep. I’m never leaving him again,” Olive vowed. “Ever, ever, ever.”
“I’m glad. He needs you.”
“What aren’t you saying, O?” Gil asked gently, his eyes roving over my face. “Are you truly all right?”
Bracing myself, I prepared to say the hardest thing. “I’m fine. And I came...I came to see you because...” I sighed, forcing myself to finish. “I came to say goodbye.”
The flash of agony glowed and fired in his eyes. He cleared his throat, nodding fast, accepting there was no other choice. “I understand.”
“I’m moving.”
His body twitched on the bed. “Where?”
“I don’t know yet. I-I guess I’ll figure that out when I’m there.”
“You’ll travel?” His voice gruffed and thickened.
“Perhaps. I’m not sure.”
Our awful conversation petered out. There was so much to say, but it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference to the way we’d ended.
Olive reached out to take my hand, her shoulders still wrapped up in Gil’s embrace. By accepting her touch, she united us. An unlikely trio all bound in complicated ways. My skin tingled as I allowed her hold, a similar curse to what her father made me feel.
There was something about this girl that snatched me around the heart just as much as Gil did. Probably because she was half his. Half his blood. Half his soul.
And my soul reacted to both of them.
“You can’t leave.” Her pretty face cast upward to look at me. Her plea reached into my chest and squeezed. “I don’t want you to go.”
“O has a destiny to follow, Olive Oyl. We can’t stop her from being happy.” Gil pulled her closer to him, doing his best to dislodge her hold on me. “She has to go.”
He smiled at me, but his eyes didn’t look happy. They looked sad and lonely and breaking. “Don’t let her guilt trip you, O. She’s mastered the art of that unfortunately.”
I laughed quietly, feeling endlessly sad. “I’ll do my best.”
“But you can’t go.” Pinpricks of colour highlighted Olive’s cheeks. “You’re the owl from the stories. You’re his friend. Friends don’t leave.”
Gil groaned. “God, did she tell you about the owl?” He blushed like his daughter. “I’d run out of bedtime stories and was sick of reading Popeye The Sailor Man. I told her about a dancer who—”
“Turned into an owl at night and danced with feathers in the moonlight.” Olive nodded furiously. “The owl was called Olin—which is a crazy weird name—but was kinda cool too. And you’re called Olin, so you have to stay.”
I struggled with how to reply.
Justin re-joined us, tucking his phone into his pocket. “What did I miss?”
Gil shot his friend a grim look while I tried to untangle my hand from Olive’s. “Not much.”
Olive let her hand fall, her shoulders slouching as if the past year had caught up to her. “Can we go home yet, Dad? I want to sleep in my room.” Her face shadowed, showing signs of the trauma that would take a while to cure. “I miss my room. I didn’t like sleeping in Uncle Jeffrey’s caravan.”
“Yes, we can go home—” Gil froze, halting his lie. His eyes rose to mine, pleading for a way to break the news to her. That he couldn’t go home until he’d healed. And even then...it might not happen.
“Your dad has to stay here another couple of nights.” I reached out and stroked her dark, glossy hair. “The doctors are magic too, and they’re making him better.”
“But...what about me? Where do I sleep then? Will you take me back home and stay with me?”
My heart flipped at the thought of returning to the warehouse where Gil had drugged and painted me.
Gil jumped in. “You’ll have to stay here with me in the hospital, little spinach. Just for a couple of days.” He looked at Justin. “They allow that, right? Single parents are allowed to have their kid stay?”
Justin shrugged. “I can find out.”
Olive stuck out her tongue as if she was gagging. “I don’t want to stay here. It stinks and I don’t like sick people.”
“I know,” Gil muttered. “I don’t want to stay either, but—”
The door opened with no knock or request for entry.
Two women entered, stern and prim. Their matching black suits strict with discipline and an official-looking badge over their breasts.
“This is a private meeting,” Justin said, striding forward to intercept them. “You can’t just barge in—”
“Mr. Clark?” The younger of the two with red hair in a sleek ponytail held up a piece of paper. “We’re here to discuss the accommodation and care of your only offspring, Olive Clark.”
Justin continued acting as bodyguard. “And you are?”
“Child Protective Services.”
I sucked in a huge breath.
Oh, no.
Tension in the room wound tight.
I moved closer to Olive, shielding her.
The woman cast her stare on all of us, saying, “The police informed us of the incapacitation of Mr. Clark, along with the impending trial for the events over the past few months. We were asked to arrange appropriate care for Olive Clark, and to discuss the fact that she hasn’t been attending school for over a year. As far as we’re concerned, it’s in the best interest of the child that she be placed with a foster family who will ensure her wellbeing and education is—”
“You are not taking my daughter.” Gil sat straight up in bed, his face blanching with agony. “No way.”
The redhead bypassed Justin, coming far too close for comfort. “Do you have relatives who could take the child?”
“The child’s name is Olive,” Gil snarled. “And she’s standing right in front of you.”
Olive kept her shoulders squared, her little body brave but trembling. “I don’t want to leave my dad.”
“I know,” the other CPS agent said, coming toward us with her satchel swinging by her side. “But you need structure, sweetie. You need a family who—”
“Don’t call me sweetie!” Olive slammed hands over her ears. “Uncle Jeffrey called me sweetheart and I hated it!” She turned into me, and my arms automatically wrapped around her.
“I think you better leave,” I snapped.
“Get out.” Gil tried to climb free from the tight bed sheets, but the monitors beeped and accused him of movement not recommended for someone in his wounded state.
Justin came to my side, forming a barrier, a family unit where all of us stood up to the law. “I’m Olive’s godfather. She can stay with me while Gil is in the hospital.”
The redhead scowled. “Have you had experience with children before? Will you ensure she attends school, seeing as Mr. Clark failed on that account?”
“She was fucking kidnapped,” Gil snarled, finally ripping off the sheet even though his face shone with sweat and a bloom of red appeared on his side. “I’ve been trying to find her for a year. Do you honestly think the kidnapper would take her to goddamn school?”
I reached out, resting my hand on his quaking arm. “Calm down, they’re only here for Olive’s best interest.”
I did my best to stay rational, even though I wanted nothing more than to dump the carafe of water on their head and kick them out the door.
The Living Canvas Page 11