Justin followed, pushing the door closed behind him.
Olive looked up from where she stood beside Gil’s bed hugging him. Her eyes were red and cheeks damp but she smiled for the first time since I met her. “Hi, Olin. Thanks for helping me sneak in to see my dad.”
I nodded with a soft smile. “You’re welcome.”
My gaze travelled to Gil.
The world once again stopped and spun in the opposite direction.
He looked wrung out and pale. His hair a diabolical mess, his body cocooned in white blankets while a needle punctured the back of his hand and fed necessary antibiotics and painkillers.
His mouth opened to speak.
My heart begged to retreat.
And Justin broke the tense connection, striding in front of me to embrace his friend. “Good to see you’re still alive.”
Gil winced, his gaze struggling to leave mine as he focused on Justin. “At least I get to say thank you in person now.”
Justin nodded. “You owe me. Owe me huge.”
Gil nodded, his tone deadly serious. “I know I do. And I’ll pay you back somehow. Some day.”
“You do know I expect to be told everything.” Justin’s eyes narrowed. “And I do mean everything, Clark. You can’t leave anything out.”
“I know.”
Olive’s attention danced between her dad and the man she’d never met. Her curiosity practically burst out of her. The scared girl from the caravan gave way to a feisty little thing, almost as if having her father back erased the badness of before. She drank strength from him. She trusted that things were okay now—that the past year of entrapment was over because she was with her dad and the world was righted.
She’s the bravest little thing I’ve ever seen.
I envied her ability to ignore history and live purely in the present.
It made me feel weak for wanting to leave, guilty for choosing myself over Gil when he lay sore in a hospital bed.
I should stay.
I should help.
But how much is enough?
After everything...when was it okay to say no more?
My heart beat strangely, confused and afraid as I stayed on the outskirts of their conversation.
Gil cleared his throat, smiling at his friend. “Justin, I’d like you to meet Olive. My daughter.” His body melted as he looked at Olive, his eyes so proud and grateful. “Spinach, I want you to meet your godfather, Justin.”
“Yeah, about the godfather thing.” Justin coughed quietly. “You do know I have no experience with kids right, Clark?”
Gil nodded. “I know. And it’s not fair of me to nominate you without telling you, but for now...while I deal with this aftermath, do you think—” His eyes caught mine, wincing. He seemed almost apologetic, as if he didn’t know if he should’ve asked me if I wanted that role instead.
I approved of his choice.
Justin was stable.
I was not.
Justin was staying.
I’m...not.
“It’s fine.” Justin grinned. “All good. You know that.”
“I know you’re a goddamn saint, and it pisses me off no end,” Gil muttered wryly. “But it also makes me a lucky SOB to have a mate like you.”
“Aww, I’m blushing.” Justin laughed. “Seems getting shot took that stick out of your arse.”
Gil’s gaze narrowed. “Don’t use bad language in front of—”
“What’s a godfather?” Olive’s nose wrinkled, her eyes volleying between the two men as they spoke.
Gil seemed different. Lighter, even while heavier. Happier, even while hurt. Just like Olive, he took support and strength from his bond with her, drinking the same medicine she did just from being around him.
They couldn’t survive without each other. Couldn’t be whole while apart. The true sense of connection and family.
I rubbed at the ache in my chest as Justin bent to Olive’s level, offering his hand in polite introduction. “A godfather means I get to keep you if your dad here ever has enough.”
I cringed.
Justin meant it in a relaxed, soothing way, but after a year of forced custody with her uncle—
Olive looked at him warily, obviously thinking the same thing I did. “I don’t want anyone to keep me who isn’t my dad.”
Justin dropped his hand, noticing his mistake. “Of course. I only meant that—”
“You can trust him, Olive,” Gil gruffed. “He’s not like Jeffrey.”
“You were wrong to trust him, Daddy.” Olive stuck out her bottom lip. “I told you something wasn’t right about him, didn’t I?”
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. “D
on’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.”
“Sounds 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?”
The Finished Masterpiece (Master of Trickery Book 3) Page 52