Oliver (This is Our Life Book 3)

by F. G. Adams

  Turning the purring engine off, I walk back to the sliding glass door and begin shutting it when a warning inkling of being watched stops me. I gaze out into the woods, looking for movement or something out of the ordinary. Nothing but dead leaves and bushes brought on from the change in the weather.

  I stand there for what feels like forever waiting to catch a glimpse at what, I’m not sure. Shaking fingers close the door and secure the lock into place. I position the long metal bar across the bottom as added security and activate the alarm system. One last glance outside, and it’s back to work for me.

  “Harper, when do you plan on finishing unpacking?” I yell at the partially closed door to her bedroom.

  “Soon, Mom. Just wanted to finish reading. I can’t believe she sent me a reading tablet. So cool,” she exclaims from somewhere close by.

  Walking into the ‘danger zone’ she calls a bedroom, I meander closer to the alcove, hidden from sight. Bookshelves line both sides of a cozy long bench, and centered above is a starburst of stained glass with two bears, a mother and cub, gazing at the sunset. I can easily understand the draw of comfort in the small space.

  The nook’s warm colors and Craftsman-style woodwork is nestled with thick cushions, plenty of pillows, and shelves for all her new books and what-nots. Harper’s secret garden in our world, courtesy of Matilda Blackwood.

  Her knees are folded under her body at an odd angle, while her shoulders lie flat on top of the cushions with her arms stretched out, holding the device above her. I have found her several times in this exact position over the last few weeks.

  She reads to escape the prison-like walls constructed around us.

  “What ‘cha reading, little cub?” I ask and move a wisp of her long hair behind her ear.

  My beautiful daughter is growing up so fast.

  “Um. You’ll probably laugh at me.”

  “No way would I ever think of laughing at you.”

  I wink, clasping my hands over my heart, and playfully pretend to be hurt at her accusation.

  “Yep. I think you will. We’ve discussed this series before, and your appreciation for the unexplained phenomenon was truly lacking. Yeah, for that matter, still is.”

  She fluffs a pillow then replaces it behind her head.

  “Probably. But we’ll be a hundred years old before we end this debate, so give in and tell me what you’re reading.”

  She loudly huffs then mumbles, “Twilight by Stephanie Meyers. The entire series is on the app, and I’ve wanted to read it, like, forever.”

  I cover my mouth quickly but can’t help the burst of laughter that escapes. Before I know what is happening, a soft pillow hits me square in the face, right between the eyes.

  Oh, little cub, it’s on like Donkey Kong.

  I grab the closest pillow to me, and World War III commences in the Blackwood household.

  “Pillow fight!” I yell, inching closer.

  Harper’s arms fly up in a stop motion.

  “The winner gets out of kitchen duty?” she asks as her eyes roam the area.

  Smart little cub trying to negotiate while she edges closer to her target. The large rectangular pillow in the corner.

  I watch and nod.

  “Kitchen duty seems fair.”

  She jolts from her relaxed position and attacks, pummeling me with her feather-down weapon of choice. The echoes of laughter reverberate off the pale green walls of the room. For every contact Harper delivers, I return with one of my own.

  Before long, my arms are heavy from the exertion and I know she’s going to win our little ‘war’ soon if I don’t do something quickly. Hey, nobody wants dish duty, especially me if I can help it. I fake to the left side. Harper rushes forward, and I send a wallop behind her knees as they buckle.

  Dropping the pillow, I pounce and tickle her ribs until she screams, “Uncle!”

  We are both panting from our playtime. Wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes, I hug Harper close. Contentment washes over me. Times like these are priceless, an affirmation of the choice made all those years ago to run away from Roman. He would have destroyed Harper’s sweet spirit. Her loving soul.

  “All’s fair in love and pillow fights, little cub.”

  “Mom, you said you wouldn’t laugh,” she complains, but the smile in her voice gives her away.

  “I said I would try not to laugh, but come on, Harper. Vampires and werewolves? Puh-a-leaze. So not real.”

  I shrug and stretch my legs out, crossing them at the ankles.

  “You are so weird. The entire world is choosing teams, and you think the idea is crazy.”

  “How so? Just because I don’t believe in ‘make believe’ doesn’t mean I think you are a delusional wacko.”

  No, I’ll save that title for Roman.

  “Fairy tales, happily ever afters, and everything in between are for dreamers like you. I’m a realist, Harper. If I can’t touch it, see it, hear it, feel it, then I cannot accept it. All that emotional stuff is not for me. I like my logic.”

  “Weird and sad.”

  She nails me with a round cushion on the shoulder, knocking me off balance.

  “Ouch. Why’d you do that? I thought we were done. I won, you know?”

  “Just making sure you’re alive.”

  I hand her the thrown pillow, and she holds it close to her chest.

  “Satisfied?” I inquire, raising my brow.

  She shrugs her dainty shoulders and smiles.

  “Little cub, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, and this dog has been ‘round the world. One day, your life will change. You’ll have the freedom to choose what’s best for you. Hopefully, you will find all you dream about and more. Just because my life turned out different from what I expected doesn’t mean yours will. I do have faith in you, Harper.”

  “Gawd! You talk as if you’re an old, battered-down dog drawing her last breath of life, and we both know that’s not the case. You’re only thirty-something, right? Still young. Still got a lot of fuel left in the tank.”

  I giggle at her. Some of the stuff that spouts out of her mouth is exactly what Jo and Sage would say. Shit, even my grandma or mother. If they only knew how much she sounds like them, what would they think? Would they be as proud of her as I am?

  I’ve tried to do my best for her. I want her to have a productive life and contribute to society the way she should. Only time will tell if I’ve given her enough of me to succeed.

  Two more years to be precise. Two years, and she will be old enough to make up her own mind about Roman without his bullying antics. She can decide to allow him into her life or not. The idea scares the hell out of me, but I won’t take away her free will. Not like Roman has done to me.

  Well, damn.

  A depressing thought blindsides me. What will I do without her? I’ve chosen my path, knowing I couldn’t return to my old life. A choice I would gladly choose over and over again. Guess I’ll have to cross that bridge when I get to it, because for now, she’s safe.

  Ignoring the sobering feelings inside, I opt to enjoy the time I have with her. Every second is precious. A memory forever burned into my mind.

  “You still want to go to the festival tonight?”

  “Yeah, and maybe you’ll see Oliver there, and just maybe you’ll let your hair down. And maybe, by some random act of the unknown, you’ll decide you aren’t an old dog ready to die. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll learn something new?”

  She ends her cute little rant with hopeful puppy dog eyes begging me to try.

  “Lardy, lardy, lardy, Harper Lee. What am I gonna do with you?”

  She laughs and squeezes my hand.

  “Pretty high reaching there, baby cub.”

  “As long as there are stars in the sky up above, Momma Bear, I have hope.”

  The world is full of magical moments; all we have to do is believe. Have I truly given up all hope in my life’s journey, or am I struggling to come to grips with who I have become w
ith the cards I’ve been dealt?

  Only time will tell, and I’m not sure if I have an abundance of that left with the way Roman stalks us. The last few attempts he’s made have been way too close for comfort. For now, all I can do is wait and pray. Please, God, keep us safe.

  9

  Fallyn

  The excitement in the atmosphere as we approach the downtown square is contagious. Harper is bubbling with anticipation of her first ride at a carnival.

  Millions of golden lights twinkle through the darkening night sky, while music from a band playing a country honky tonk surrounds us.

  Rescue’s Fall Festival is in full swing as people gather around for a night of socializing and fun.

  Harper’s gaze scans the crowd looking for Susie, hoping to find her. As for me, I’m searching for an attractive giant of a man whom I can’t seem to erase from my thoughts.

  Oliver has consumed my mind non-stop since my panic attack at the grocery store on Friday.

  The tender hold from his touch when my panic attack surfaced in the grocery store is confusing to me. Why would a good-looking man, a stranger at that, feel the need to comfort me? Why?

  Not just that, but his touch sent shivers and tingles throughout my body. I didn’t want him to move. No, I truly needed him in that moment.

  “Harper. Ms. Montana,” Susie’s voice carries over the gathered crowd from somewhere behind us.

  Turning around, I see her jogging closer. She’s wearing an over-sized college sweatshirt, blue jeans, and purple high tops. A hodgepodge group of teens trail closely behind her.

  “Hiya, ladies. I’ve been looking all over for you,” Susie loudly pants, cocking her hand on her hip and eyeing us skeptically. “Thought you might’ve decided not to come.”

  Harper shyly glances at the group then at Susie.

  “Mom forgot her gloves, and we had to go back and get them.”

  “Again, I’m sorry, Harper. I tried to explain to you my fingers freeze and I didn’t want to be cold all night.”

  I shiver from the chill already in the air.

  “We would have been here earlier, but I couldn’t find the marked box.”

  Susie glances between us, almost not sure what to think, and then shrugs.

  “Harper, meet Ronnie, Becky, Katie, and Mikey.” She points at each of them. “They’re gonna hang with us. You ready to have some fun?”

  “Yeah, sure. Hello.”

  Harper hesitantly smiles then wiggles her fingers in a wave.

  “What should we ride first?”

  “Tilt-A-Whirl, baby. I wanna hear you scream and puke!” Susie gushes and points to the ride.

  “S’cuse me? Did you say, um, puke?” Harper softly asks while glancing at the formidable ride.

  “Look at it,” Susie squeaks with excitement. “You go ‘round and ‘round like the top of a spinning bottle cap, then when you least expect it, you’re lifted up and down, fast like a roller coaster. It’s a double whammy of dizziness. You’re so gonna love it, Harp!”

  “Oooooo-kay. Well. Maybe you should just go ahead, and I’ll watch with Mom? Then I could try?” Harper asks with a tiny bout of apprehension.

  With a twinkle in her mischievous eyes, Susie reaches for Harper’s arm and pulls her toward the line.

  “Nah, you’ll be fine. C’mon, let’s get in line, girlfriend. I promise you’re gonna love it.”

  I cover the snicker bubbling to the surface at the perplexed expression on Harper’s face. She really wants to try something new, but the idea of upchucking dinner isn’t an appealing thought. I don’t blame her one iota for being weary of the ride. I’ve been there, done that, a lifetime ago.

  And here they come, ready or not. A special moment I shared with my sisters growing up surfaces as a smile forms at the memory. I didn’t get the nickname ‘dare devil’ from my sisters growing up for just any reason. Nope. Not me. I used to drag Jo and Sage on every ride at least twice, sometimes more. For me, the exhilaration and freedom the rides provoked grounded the restlessness from having my wings clipped by my father.

  For them, it was torture. They dreaded going to the county fair with me. Somebody always ended up greener than a frog on a lily pad and heaving the hotdogs and cotton candy consumed by the time we left.

  I follow closely behind the teens, memorizing the activities happening around me for later. Standing off to the side, I watch my little cub blossom with excitement.

  Harper and Susie have their heads bent together, chatting away. She continuously nods at Susie. A huge smile forms on my face. The thawing from years of built-up ice begins to melt inside. My heart fills with joy, a mother’s happiness. She’s enjoying herself.

  It’s the little things in life that make the difference and help when times are rough. Sighing, I rub my filling chest. Who would have thought that Rescue would rescue parts of my broken soul?

  Caught off-guard, I startle when a husky voice softly whispers, “Vixen.”

  Whipping around, I come face-to-face with the man who has plagued me the last twenty-four hours and then some, and do a second take.

  Day-um.

  Eyes wide with surprise, I closely inspect every inch of Oliver. He is one fine-looking man, dressed in a crimson jacket with the collar flipped up, dark blue jeans accentuating long, well-toned muscles, topped off with the sexiest-as-fuck cowboy boots I’ve ever seen. Jeez.

  Cowboy boots are such a turn-on for me from growing up on the ranch. There’s just something about a man in boots. I would daydream of my knight in shining armor saving me from my father’s wrath; except my knight was a combination of a badass biker and a wild-ass cowboy.

  The night shadows accent barely-seen ink flames licking his wide neck, giving him a bad-boy vibe. Desire floods me. A craving to know more and a yearning to belong. Waves of his raven hair whip around as the wind blows, begging me to touch. Strong cheekbones draw my attention when they lift slightly with a hint of amusement. I’m so in trouble.

  We’re talking B.I.G. T.R.O.U.B.L.E.

  My fantasy knight is standing in front of me.

  He quickly inhales when my gaze finally connects with his. The amusement from only seconds before is gone, replaced by need and want. I’m not sure how I know this, possibly a woman’s intuition or God only knows, but the burning desire smoldering within me after my thorough perusal of the delectable man standing in front of me catches him off-guard. There is an element of uncertainty staring back at me when he leans closer and licks his lips.

  I’m a blob of putty in his hands when he sucks his bottom lip, wetting the smooth surface, and bites down. Molten lava pulses through my veins and an unfamiliar tingle trickles down my spine.

  Heat rises, and I know a pink blush stains my cheeks from the warmth radiating inside of me. He’s awakening an unknown, foreign need deep within my broken soul. Something I’ve not known before in my lifetime, and, if I’m honest with myself, I’m not sure I want to.

  “Feelings are for the weak of mind,” I hear Roman whisper in my mind.

  I learned fast being on the run that he is right, and as long as I keep to myself, I can survive. I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t true.

  I won’t allow myself the pleasure of wanting an ideal moment in time. I haven’t survived all these years by fantasizing about a reality that will never be. At least not for me.

  My path was chosen many years ago, and just like the cold wind blowing from the north, I can’t change the direction I’m heading now. No. I made a vow to myself to do whatever it takes to keep Harper from Roman, and being alone came with that promise.

  I need space. I need to think clearly. I need to get away from him.

  I go to step away from him when a scream penetrates the sensual walls he has built around us, obliterating the moment like a wrecking ball demolishing an abandoned building. I move back, my eyes frantically searching for Harper. I know that voice as well as my own. Where is she? I shouldn’t have looked away. She’s my sole priority. My wor
ld. No one else.

  When I find her, I suddenly stop. Heat surrounds me as strong arms pull me back against a firm chest.

  “Breathe, little Vixen.”

  My body responds to his whispered command, while my mind remains a foggy mess. I inhale and blink several times trying to stop the tears threatening to spill onto my cheeks. She’s safe. She’s not in danger.

  Harper’s exiting the ride and making a beeline for me with the biggest grin plastered on her beautiful face, and her newfound friends are tagging along, giggling.

  Sagging into the body behind me, I accept the comfort Oliver is offering to strengthen me. All these years, I have fought to be strong, and the fact is I am tired. Weary from running. And the thought of someone looking out for my best interest is appealing.

  How many nights have I secretly prayed for someone to save me? How many times have I dreamed of being safely held and cherished? I brush up against his rock-hard body, fitting perfectly against him. Safe.

  “You can run, but I will find you, Fallyn. You are mine. Forever,” Roman’s menacing tone chants on the wind in my mind.

  Phantom body aches emerge; a cold chill freezes the air in my lungs. Stop. Not tonight.

  Harper’s smile grows even bigger when she notices Oliver’s arms wrapped around me. I won’t let her or him believe something is happening between us. It’s not fair to either one of them. This isn’t real. There is no future for us here.

  I ignore his put-off sigh when I move away from him, breaking the warmth we shared.

  I stiffen my resolve, waiting. Harper reacts quickly by moving closer to him instead of me. Sneaky little cub. The truth is, kids and puppies just know good people.

  “Hi, Oliver, how’s it going?”

  She beams proudly at me with a look of triumph.

  “We were about to check the Ferris wheel out. You should ride with Mom, so she doesn’t have to go by herself.”

  “That’s not necessary. I—”

  “Whatcha think? Wanna see the town from a bird’s eye view?” Oliver questions, tugging me closer to the ride’s line.