by Lola Gabriel
Taking in a deep breath, Olive flipped through the menu. She had never been a big meat eater, only really indulging during the holidays, and apparently, Henry wasn’t a fan, either. By the time Jackie returned with her hot tea, Olive had decided on a strawberry French toast plate with a side of hash browns.
“How far along are ya?” Jackie asked as she finished jotting down Olive’s order.
“Almost seven months,” she candidly responded, producing a faint smile.
Jackie’s cigarette-stained teeth flashed at her, and she rested a hand on the back of the booth. “Boy or girl?”
“It’s going to be a surprise, but… my friend and I are fairly certain it’s a boy.” This time, Olive’s smile was genuine and rested a hand on her ever-expanding stomach.
“Well, congratulations. You look absolutely radiant, darlin’,” Jackie complimented her, her grin stretching so wide that her crow’s feet deepened. “You remind me so much of my daughter, but boy, is she not ready for anything like that. I think I’d have a stroke if she told me she was pregnant!” A whooping, raspy laugh sounded from her. Olive withdrew inward a bit, feeling a smidgen of judgment. She knew she was a young mom, being only twenty-two, but she wasn’t too young. She was a college graduate, and—
Her thoughts were cut short by the waitress. “That’s no dig at you, either. You look like you’re a bright young woman, and you look just right. Motherly. My child is a wild one, you wouldn’t believe.”
“Well, thank you,” Olive responded, a light blush conquering her cheeks. “I definitely don’t have it all together, but I’m making the best of it.”
“Sweetie, I’m sure you will,” Jackie beamed. “I’ll go put this order in for you. Holler if you need anything.”
Olive sat, tracing little circles over the fabric of her shirt. Even though her thoughts had been defensive at the beginning of the interaction, now she actually felt a bit better about herself. Of course, the woman didn’t know her or how complicated her story was, but her sentiment held a grain of truth. Olive was a smart young woman, and she was going to figure everything out for her and her son. She also realized how much of a compliment it was to be told you looked motherly.
Standing from the booth, Olive walked over to the jukebox and browsed the sections. She slid several quarters into the coin slot and selected a line-up of Little Richard, The Everly Brothers, and, of course, Elvis Presley. She avoided as many heartache songs as she could but couldn’t resist selecting, Are You Lonesome Tonight by Elvis for the last song. In her childhood, her parents would listen to it in the car, and her dad would so hilariously recite the spoken parts to her mom in a horrendous, sultry voice, completing it with a cocked brow, as Elvis was known for. Olive wanted to hold onto those memories, and she hopefully would, instead of crying into her hash browns.
As she waited for her food, she gently swayed from side to side to the sweet music and closed her eyes. Her hand never left her stomach, the tiny kicks of Henry keeping her present. That was all she wanted to be: present, not trapped inside her own mind. She zeroed in on feeling him. Before she was pregnant, she had really had no idea it would feel so strange and foreign, albeit spiritual. There was something so mystic about the connection she had with him. It was unearthly. She hadn’t truly felt pregnant, beyond the horrendous nausea and cramping, until the first time he kicked. It had taken the abstract idea of having a child and made it a reality. He was real, and he was all hers.
When the plate of food was sat in front of her, Olive’s mouth literally watered at the smell of the cinnamon and maple. Thanking the waitress, she dug in, taking her time to savor each bite. Everything going on in her life melted away somewhere in the far distance. Coming to the diner had actually brought her the peace she had so desperately searched for. Olive had hopes that, once she had finished the hearty helpings, she would be ready to sluggishly make her way back to the motel and collapse onto her bed. Henry kicked happily as she ate before lulling to rest by the end of the meal. Olive already had the feeling he was going to be such a sweet, sweet little boy. It brought the smile back to her face.
“Glad the food perked you up, darlin’. You looked ready to burst into tears when you came in,” Jackie spoke as she approached the table. Olive let out a content sigh.
“I guess I just needed a good meal and didn’t know it. Thank you.” Jackie batted away the thanks and placed the check in front of Olive before clearing the plate and silverware from the table, leaving Olive with her tea. Reaching into the small handbag she carried with her, Olive fished out her wallet and began counting the bills, making sure to add in a generous tip. Sure, she stressed about money, but the few extra dollars spent were so worth it.
A tingle traveled up the length of Olive’s spine as she counted the money, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. Her chest tightened, but not from panic. Olive froze, fingers still between the dollar bills. Why does that feel so familiar? She had experienced it a lot, it seemed, but not in a long while. Trying to rationalize it, Olive looked about, starting with the back of her seat to see if something could have tickled her. Looking up at the ceiling, she searched for an air vent, thinking it could have been a sudden gust of air conditioning. There was one right overhead, but that wouldn’t have caused her chest to tighten. It wasn’t a tightening; more like a… a squeeze. Gentle and warm, providing her with comfort—but how?
As her eyes panned around, her head immediately snapped toward the window. Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes were as wide as they could be. She was staring at a tall man as pale as snow, with jet black curls disheveled on the top of his head. That can’t be… There’s no way…
The man didn’t seem to spot her, standing at the side of his car and checking his phone before heading for the door to the diner. There was a tiny window of opportunity for Olive to bolt, to run into the bathroom and wait for him to leave before exiting herself. Esme would’ve been screaming at her, gripping her arm to pull her away. Esme wasn’t there, though, and Olive was rooted to the vinyl booth. The most she did was pull her jacket tight around her. In her mind, she chanted that it wasn’t him; her eyes were just playing tricks on her. She was tired and needed to go to bed.
When the door opened, and a gust of air traveled in with him, Olive knew. It was, in fact, Asher. She felt insane, but she could always sense him, just like she had a second ago. With her eyes glued to him, she watched as Asher, too, froze in the doorway. He stood still for what felt like forever but was surely just a couple of seconds. Then his eyes fell directly on her. His body seemed to give way for a moment, having to straighten his posture to regain his composure. Jackie began calling to him to sit wherever he liked, but her voice died out as she noticed him and Olive staring at one another.
It was as though Asher had to force every tiny movement, like his body also wanted to remain locked into place. Ever so slowly, however, he took steps toward her. As he neared, Olive could actually see his chest rising and falling rapidly. His smoldering brown eyes were glossy. When he was finally at the other side of the table, his hand resting on the back of the booth, Olive somehow found it in herself to speak.
“Hi, Asher.”
10
Asher hardly blinked, fearing that if his eyes were closed, Olive would disappear before him. Her tiny squeak of a greeting, as nervous and quiet as it had been, opened the floodgate of memories he had been trying so hard to keep tightly shut. Asher clenched and unclenched his jaw to keep himself from crying. What man cries so easily? He heard his father’s voice taunt in the back of his mind. For the first time, it didn’t even get to him. The tears were justified.
“May I sit with you?” he asked, voice huskier than usual as he held back the emotion in it. Olive responded with a small, tight nod of her head. With eyes still on her, he slid into the booth across from her.
God, she was radiant. Her skin was slightly sun-kissed from whatever adventures she had been on since the last time they had seen one another
. It caused her freckles to be darker, and it was so freaking adorable. Olive’s hair—not quite caramel and not quite sand, but rather somewhere in the middle—had grown so long. While they had been dating, she had kept it right at her shoulders, but now the gentle waves fell to right below her breasts. Asher longed to hold her and take in the scent of her hair, embed it into his memory once again.
However, as he stared, still encompassed by the magnetic energy which flowed between them, pain and betrayal prickled underneath his skin. Olive was alive and well, and she had just vanished. Why? How could she do that to him? What reason could she have had? Asher should have been angry upon finding her, demanding answers, but he wasn’t. Her beautiful face was composed the best it could be, but he could see her own hurt lingering just beneath the surface. Even then, he loathed to see her in a single ounce of pain.
Olive shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, tugging the light gray jacket tighter around her before crossing her arms.
“How did you find me? Are you following me?” she finally spoke. He could tell she was trying to keep a flat tone, but her voice was meek, and her lip was already quivering slightly.
“I swear to you, I’m not,” Asher assured her. “This is just…” Fate, destiny, luck. “A coincidence. A remarkably unexpected one at that.”
She was fast to rebut. “What coincidences are expected?”
A corner of his mouth twitched, threatening to bring on a smile. She had a quick wit about her, even though she didn’t acknowledge it. Asher pursed his lips to resist the urge before replying, “Touché, but I swear, this is just a bizarre coincidence.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I’m here on business,” he plainly explained. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth, either.
“In a tiny town in the middle of nowhere?” Olive prodded further. She was coming out of her shock and was trying to put on a brave face. Why did it seem like she thought Asher was out to get her? He had given up his search for her four months ago.
“Well, we’re actually in one of the biggest towns on business. Just couldn’t sleep, so I drove around and ended up here.” His gaze fixated on her immaculate green eyes. So easily, he could get lost in them for unknown periods of time. Right then, he was searching them for clues, any hints of what in the world was going on in her head. “How about you? How did you end up in a tiny town, in a diner at three in the morning?”
“Esme and I are on a road trip. Couldn’t sleep, so I walked over here.” After the words left Olive’s mouth, Asher could tell she wished she could suck them back in. Olive had been honest without meaning to be. She was still trying to keep a wall up with him. He was going to break that wall down if it was the last thing he did.
Asher couldn’t help but sour a little, knowing that her best friend was with her. They had fled town together. Had it been Esme’s idea? He had never met the woman, but Olive had shared plenty about her to paint a picture. A drifter who was rough around the edges, crass, overly sarcastic, and more than likely indulged in too much drinking for Asher’s liking to be around his love. Had that heathen filled Olive’s head with doubts and convinced her to skip town? Esme had been unnervingly jealous of his and Olive’s relationship. There had been many nights when Olive would be with him and Esme would call and beg her to come out with her. Asher’s keen ears had been able to pick up on the voice on the phone saying, “To hell with that guy.”
Reluctantly, Asher closed his eyes. He was getting angry, but not at Olive. He didn’t want her to think that. It was Esme. She had been the thorn in the side of their relationship. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? Probably because he assumed there had to be some sort of tragedy for Olive to leave without a word. Perhaps she would try to deny it at that point, but Asher knew she felt the exact same way about him as he did for her. When he opened his eyes again, seeing her still sitting there watching him eased his temper.
“How have you been?” The question came out tenderly and sincere.
Olive’s eyes fell to the table, and then she shrugged, taking a long pause before replying. “I’ve been okay…” She’s lying. “How about yourself?”
Asher could have softened his answer, or he could have played it off like he was just fine without her to seem tough and unphased. Maybe it was best if he did—but he had been so bottled up with things he wanted to say to her since the moment he realized she was truly gone that he didn’t have it in him to sugarcoat it or lie.
“I’ve been devastated,” he whispered, his voice cracking. Olive physically winced, and her lip began to tremble again. “Liv, I’ve been so…” Asher’s gaze went to the ceiling, as if the words would be written for him up there. He shook his head. “Lost. I’ve been lost without you. I’ve been mourning you every single day. It felt as if literally half of my brain was missing, you know? I couldn’t function or think straight…” Asher’s jaw began to repetitively clench again, and he blinked rapidly as he still tried to hold back his tears. The scabs that had just started to grow over the wounds she had left were ripped off, and he was feeling all he had in the past six months at once. “I never thought in all of my years—” He stressed those words to remind her just how long he had been roaming that rocky planet, “—that a person could leave such a crater in my life.”
In an instant, Olive broke into a sob, crying heavily and having to make painful gasps to draw in air. There were instances where Asher thought she was trying to speak, but he couldn’t understand her. As her arms unfolded to lift her hands and shield her face, Asher acted quickly and reached across the table to grab them both. She flinched at his touch, but then she squeezed his hands as tightly as she could.
“Breathe, baby, breathe,” he croaked, a few tears of his own escaping the corners of his eyes. “You gotta breathe, you’re going to worry me.” He burned to move over to her side of the booth and take her in his arms, but knew he needed to take this one step at a time.
Olive’s sobs didn’t subside for several minutes. He could feel the diner’s staff shooting him glares, but he would have gladly told them to mind their business if they had dared to speak a word. Eventually, Olive took deep breaths until they evened out. Asher rubbed his thumbs across the back of her hands rhythmically. She wouldn’t meet his eyes anymore, more than likely embarrassed because of her crying.
“I swear, I didn’t want to leave… I… I miss you so much. Every day.” Her voice trembled, the warning sign of another sob. She was silent, fighting the urge. Then, her eyes found his. The whites of her eyes were pink from crying, and her eyelids were puffy. It made her look even younger, innocent, and so very broken. “But I had to leave. I had to.”
“Why?” Asher pressed. There was no response. “Was it because of Esme?” Still, no response. Asher needed to know, but Olive was so fragile. The last thing he wanted to do was push her too far and have her leaving again. For the time being, he was going to have to leave it alone. “Olive, I can’t even put into words how relieved I am to see you’re alright. How overjoyed I am to be sitting here with you… To hold your hands,” he breathed, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. “Can you at least tell me about your road trip? Where you’ve been?”
“You really want to know?” Olive asked, sounding profoundly doubtful.
“Of course.”
“But… why? Shouldn’t you be mad at me?”
“Perhaps,” Asher sighed. “But strangely enough, I’m not. I’m just… happy. Content, even. So come on now, humor me.”
Olive drew a hand back to wipe her face with the sleeve of her jacket. “Well, uh… I don’t know. We’ve been around a lot. We’ve basically been traveling the entire time. Feels like we’ve seen every tiny town in the state.”
“They’re surprisingly different, aren’t they?” Asher smiled, though he felt a sharp pang in his chest. He would have loved to have been the one to experience those towns with her. She had always been inexplicably fascinated by culture; it had been the reason she had chosen to m
ajor in English. When she had first told Asher, he asked why she hadn’t chosen History instead. Her eyes had lit up as she explained that language was the base of every culture, and whenever she learned new things about the English language and the rich history within the English-speaking world, it gave her the insatiable craving to know more. The look on her face as she rambled on about it had been the most wondrous sight to him. He had never wanted her to stop talking.
Even with a red face and runny nose, Olive’s face lit up at his response. It was a dimmed light, but it was still there, and it sure was enough to make him melt even more than he already had.
“Yeah, it’s been pretty cool to explore. I never would have thought there was so much I hadn’t seen in the state I grew up in.” Olive sniffled. Then she glanced down at the table between them. “Like that beach we just left. I don’t think I’d ever been to that one. I loved the shops there, though I guess they were a little bit more on the touristy side of things. And the beach itself was so clean and serene.”
Asher flinched then. “What beach?”
“Come on, you know,” Olive sighed, shuffling nervously in her seat. “I know you were there, too. Esme spotted you, and… well, we ran for it. I’m sorry about that. It caught me off guard, and I just went with what Esme was saying we should do… I wanted to see you myself, but I was scared.”
Asher stared at her as if she had grown a third head. His mind was struggling to wrap around what she had just unknowingly confessed. He opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut. His senses were so overloaded by the bond he and Olive shared that it was hard for him to even smell the bacon grease and coffee that the diner reeked of—now that his mind was back on the mystery woman, he swore he could smell a faint trace of her scent on Olive. His mind wasn’t putting all the pieces together, overwhelmed by her presence and the discovery that they had been at the same beach. Was it possible that Esme was the one carrying a dragonborn? It would make sense as to why she would run at the sight of him. From what Asher gathered from Olive, though, Esme would have been more likely to confront him, or at the very least rub it in his face that she had Olive and he didn’t.