by Knight, Amie
“Yeah, you guys really rolled the fucking welcome mat out for me.”
He shrugged with a smirk. “Like I said, Lucy. It’s a two-way street.” He nodded toward my phone. “Your girl finally get back to you?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not my girl. I was making sure my sister got home okay.”
“Damn, and here we all thought you needed to move back home because you knocked some chick up.”
Was that what these assholes thought? That I’d moved home because I’d gotten a
hometown girl pregnant? I didn’t think about girls. Before all this shit had happened, I lived and breathed football. Girls were an afterthought.
“Well, did she?” Mason spoke again.
“What?”
“Did your sister make it home okay?”
What the fuck was up with this guy? All of a sudden we were buddies now? “Yeah,” I said, making my way to the exit.
He followed behind. “Good. Then we can go get a beer. My treat.”
What. The. Fuck?
“Can’t. I don’t drink.” I’d never had a sip of alcohol. My father was killed by a drunk driver. Alcohol had taken something precious from me. I’d never let it do that to me again.
I dashed through the parking lot to my car, Mason heavy on my heels. I didn’t know what the hell his problem was, but it felt like some kind of set-up. The team didn’t matter. Ella did. She was who I had to focus on.
I opened my car door, ignoring whatever it was Mason Stark was getting up to. The only thing I needed was my family, what little was left of it anyway.
“For God’s sake, Ollie. If you step on my foot one more damn time.” I was pretty sure my big toe on my right foot was bleeding and my big toe on my left foot was broken.
Ollie looked down at my feet and then back up at me with a smile. “I can’t believe you thought this was a good idea. And I’m not talking about inviting me. I’m talking about actual ballroom dancing. What the hell possessed you to do this?”
“I don’t know. I thought it would be something fun.” I was lying like hell. I’d let the old lady next door sell me classes as some kind of fundraiser so her dance class could go on a cruise or some craziness. That’s right, Sylvia Valasquez was dancing up a storm with the ninety-year-old love of her life in the Bahamas and I was going to be toeless by the end of the night.
“You could at least try, Ollie. It’s a simple waltz, not brain surgery.”
His brown eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Lettie, this ain’t Dancing with the Stars and I’m no Maksim Chmerkovskiy.”
I rolled my eyes and pierced him with a glare. “Oh, I’m all too aware of the fact you aren’t Maksim Chmerkovskiy.” No, Maksim would be rocking my world right now, not destroying my feet.
“Rude,” Ollie grunted before landing his heel to my toe again. But the timing was a little convenient.
“Ouch! You did that on purpose!” I stopped dancing and Ollie let my arms fall and placed his hands on his hips.
“Prove it,” he demanded.
My own hands went to my hips. I couldn’t believe this. I’d asked my stupid brother for one damn favor. I should have known. Oliver Winston Knox may have been only a year younger than me, but he was ages more immature. It was a good thing he was ridiculously adorable and could get away with anything.
His hazel eyes were a stunner and they worked the whole cuteness thing to the limit. It didn’t hurt that they were framed in the thickest, darkest eyelashes ever. Even his hair was thick and wavy and framed his face perfectly. Ollie was the dark to my light. Everywhere I was milky white he was beautifully bronzed. And while I was an obnoxious shade of red, he was all dark-haired gorgeousness. He took after my father. And I took after my grandmother. I’d drawn one hell of a short straw.
Through gritted teeth I said, “Stop embarrassing me, Oliver.”
He pursed his lips. “What the hell did you expect? I play football. I’m not a damn dancer.”
I screwed up my face. “Don’t they make you take ballet or something? Isn’t it supposed to help with sports?”
He just stared at me in a way that screamed what the hell are you talking about and where the hell do you get your information from.
I felt a nudge to my back.
“Dance!” my dance teacher, Christian, yelled about two inches from my ear. He followed it up with two hand claps in quick succession and then proceeded to yell “Dance” in Ollie’s ear as well, his accent thick with French that sounded quite a bit contrived if you asked me. But that didn’t stop us from jumping into each other’s arms like two terrified children. It was the mustache. It looked like a double-edged sword. It was dark and pointy at both ends and he twirled and rolled it like an evil cartoon villain as he taught class. I knew this already and it had only been twenty minutes.
“Dance!” he yelled again and we sprang into action to the worst interpretation of a waltz I’d ever witnessed in my life.
“This is your fault,” Ollie whispered where only I could hear.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled before landing on his toe with the arch of my foot. Take that, butthead.
He glared at me. “You should be telling your loving and kind brother how nice it is of him to make time in his grueling football schedule to take dance classes with his sister.”
Grueling football schedule my ass. My brother played college ball, but he also had plenty of time to date by the looks of his Instagram account.
Christian came breezing by with a long-legged blonde in tow. “Dip!” he yelled, causing me to jump and for Ollie to practically throw me back.
“Christ,” I whispered, dipped back almost to the floor, a wide-eyed Ollie cracking a smile.
“This dude is wild.”
I nodded.
He pulled me up and kept on moving because honestly we were both scared the maniacal mustache twirling Christian would come back and yell at us in his fake French accent. He only stepped on my feet twelve more times in the next five minutes. I’d be icing those puppies tonight.
When Christian did a final pass with the blonde still in tow, Ollie eyed her and I pursed my lips and glared because I knew exactly what was coming.
“Damn, I’d butter the hell out of her biscuit.” His eyes were glued to her legs.
My face scrunched up in disgust. “Ew. No one wants to hear about your butter.”
He turned and dipped me again and leaned his face into mine and waggled his eyebrows. “Lots of girls like my butter, Lettie.” He pulled me up to my feet and swayed me from side to side.
I made a horrible gagging sound that made everyone in the room turn around and look at us. “Sorry,” I mouthed to an older lady who looked at me like she wanted to punch me in the face.
A fist landed on my back, causing me to cough. “Scarlett, my lovely, are you okay?”
Christian pounded on my back again and then twisted his diabolical mustache.
Holding a hand up, I said, “I’m fine. I swear.” If he hit me again, I was in serious danger of losing a kidney or a lung.
“Dance!” he yelled and we fell back in step, Oliver laughing quietly.
“That was not even a little bit funny.”
“Come on. It was a little funny. Besides, you asked for this. You could have brought any other guy in the world and you asked me.”
He was right. Damn him. But I didn’t have any other guys I could ask. I’d never even had a serious boyfriend. Most of the teachers at The Cottage House were women and I’d been a really late bloomer. Like junior year of college late and I wasn’t even sure if I’d ever fully bloomed. I mean, I had my boobs and curves now, but I was still a really awkward ginger.
But I couldn’t tell Ollie that. He’d pick on me forever and ever. And ever.
“Not all of us are out there whoring it up, Ollie.”
He smiled, his teeth big and white, and I couldn’t help but smile, too. That smile could end wars and it had. Like the time he’d skipped school and my mom found out or the time
she’d found a dime bag of pot in one of his old dirty socks on the floor. She’d be all crazy, waiting on him to come home, and he’d walk in the door and see her face and he’d pull out the big guns. That damn smile. And she’d melt like ice cream sat out on the counter too long. My mother wasn’t the only woman in the greater Summerville area who was a sucker for Ollie’s smiles. Rumor had it he was a complete manwhore.
“You better not be whoring it up, Scarlett.” The line between his forehead was deep and his eyes flickered with thought. “Are you seeing someone? Who is it? Do I know him?”
I should also mention that Ollie was also completely over the top protective of his big sister. It didn’t matter that I was a year older and ten years wiser, the boy watched out for me. He had my back.
Damn him. Now I was feeling all sweet toward him again even though my feet ached. I didn’t need a boyfriend anyway. I had Ollie and my daddy. And no man would ever love me and treasure me as much as they did. Our parents had retired to Florida recently but that didn’t stop me from being a daddy’s girl.
“There’s no one, Olls. Calm the heck down.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because if there was I would need to vet him and make sure he was good enough for my big sister.”
Now I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Of course there’s no one, Ollie. There never has been and there never will be. I’ll be an old cat lady, but without the cats because I’m allergic.” Jesus. That was so, so sad.
He stopped dancing but didn’t let go of me. “What are you talking about, Lettie Knox?”
Rolling my eyes, I answered, “You know what I’m talking about.” I threw him a look that said it all. That I had never had a boyfriend and that I had never ever been in love. And that I probably never ever would.
His face came closer to mine. “I hope you’re talking about what an amazing catch you are and that any man who ever had the complete honor of dating you damn sure wouldn’t deserve you.”
Sweet, sweet, naïve Ollie. He didn’t get that men didn’t want a sassy redhead who spent more of her days taking care of her gobs and gobs of kids than worrying over a man who I knew wouldn’t call anyway.
“Okay, class. That’s enough for the day. You all were simply amazing.”
I guessed Christian hadn’t seen Ollie stomping all over my feet.
I took off my heels and changed into a pair of sensible, nude flats.
“Pizza?” Oliver questioned, his hands tucked into a pair of black sweatpants pockets. I looked behind him at the blonde ogling the way his biceps bulged in his white T-shirt.
“Sure. I told Hazel to meet us here so she could do dinner with us.”
He swallowed hard enough I saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Hazel’s coming?” he squeaked out.
I narrowed my eyes, studying him. He’d been doing this lately whenever I mentioned Hazel. I couldn’t figure out what was going on with him and her, but I was positive it was nothing good.
“Yep,” I popped. “She wanted to do dinner, so I told her to meet us here since the pizza place is close by.”
He grinned crazily. “Great. Super. I can’t wait to see her.”
He was so full of shit. Oliver was my brother. A brother I happened to be very close to. I may not have known the details, but I knew when he was lying his face off. Like he was this very minute.
Behind Ollie, I saw Hazel walk in the door to the dance studio sporting her usual baggy hoodie and jeans.
“Good, because here she comes.”
Ollie jumped like someone had pinched his ass and turned, spotting Hazel. “Hey, Hazel,” he said with a slight quiver to his voice I’d never heard before in my life.
“Hey, Ollie.” Her eyes danced behind her big, black, thick-rimmed glasses and I giggled. I had no idea what was happening, but whatever it was it had Ollie doing a pee pee dance and had Hazel feeling pretty confident. I decided I liked it.
“How was class?” Hazel asked, pulling the scrunchie off her wrist to tie her thick, long, brown hair into a knot at the top of her head. I was surprised it was down when she walked in because she almost always tied it up at the top of her head, giving the excuse that it was too much hair but never ever cutting it.
Ollie looked around the room like he didn’t hear her, so I answered. “It was good. Ollie destroyed my toes with those big ole clog hoppers of his and talked about buttering people’s biscuits. Ya know? Just the usual.”
Ollie’s eyes flashed to mine accusatorily before looking at Hazel with red cheeks.
She shot him a big smile. “Yum. I like butter.”
“I bet you do,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head.
“What did you say?” I asked, thinking I’d heard him wrong.
But Hazel interrupted. “We should head out.” She looked around the room that was still full of people. “Looks like they’re getting ready to shut this place down.”
I studied the face of the girl who had been my best friend since I was six years old and in kindergarten. The same girl who had thrown down on the playground the day two little brats were trying to bully me off the swing. She’d left school that day with a black eye and my deepest affection. I loved Hazel Jones almost as much as I loved Ollie. And they had never ever acted this way. I was thrown and didn’t know what to say, so I swung my eyes to Ollie, waiting on some clue, but nothing. He was too busy looking at his sneakers, his hands tucked deep into his pockets.
“Okay. Well, let’s head out.” I grabbed my stuff and started to walk out of the building, still eyeing my brother and best friend.
The cool air smacked me in the face. I’d grown up in the south, but I’d never get used to the temperature changes. It had been a warm seventy-five degrees earlier in the day and I was guessing it was closer to fifty now. I was wearing a short-sleeved A-line dress, so I rubbed my palms along my upper arms, trying to warm them as we walked the block to Luigi’s, the only pizza place in Summerville.
“Wait,” Ollie said from beside me. “My car is right here and I have a jacket inside. Let me grab it.”
He walked around his parallel parked car and I grilled Hazel quietly. “What the hell is going on?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “What are you talking about? Nothing is going on. Nothing at all.”
I was shocked. Hazel kept nothing from me. We told each other everything.
“Here,” Ollie said, throwing his jacket over my shoulders and then pulling it back. “Sike.”
“Stop playing.” I grabbed the jacket from his hand and draped it back over my shoulders, feeling blessedly warm.
We took off for Luigi’s, Ollie and Hazel flanking me.
“Speaking of playing. When are you coming over to play again, Ollie?”
My head spun to Hazel so fast, I thought it was going to fall right off my shoulders. What?
Hazel looked at me innocently. “Video games, of course.” Her gaze swung to Ollie’s. “To play video games again. When are you up for it?”
Her eyes were smoldering at Ollie and I looked between the two of them as we walked, confused as hell.
“You know what?” Ollie looked down at a nonexistent watch on his wrist. “I don’t have time for pizza, after all. I forgot I told a friend I’d help him move a TV.”
Hazel and I stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
I pointed to his wrist. “Ollie, you’re not even wearing a watch.”
He smiled. “Yeah, well, I should go. I’ll see y’all later.”
He leaned in to kiss me on the cheek and I tried to hand him his jacket.
“No, you keep it. I’ll get it from you later.”
I looked at him like he’d lost his damn mind and I wasn’t sure that he hadn’t. “Yeah, later. If you’re not too busy moving TVs and all.”
“Funny girl,” he said to me and waved at Hazel, not even sparing her a glance as he started jogging down the block back toward his car.
“Bye, Oliverrrrrrr!” Hazel yelled down the r
oad, and Ollie did that thing where he didn’t turn around and just threw his hand up over his head.
“What in the absolute hell was that about?”
She pushed her hand through my arm and pulled me toward our favorite pizza place. “What are you talking about?” She picked up speed and it felt like we were practically running up the street, but she wasn’t getting out of this that easily.
“Stop playing dumb, Hazel. Spill! What did you do to my sweet baby brother?”
Her eyes were wide. “Me? What makes you think I did something? And that boy is not sweet.”
“Because I saw you eyeing him like a piece of filet mignon.”
She gave me a totally fake laugh. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Hazel Jones, you better not traumatize my Ollie.”
Her eyes rolled. “Please, girl. That boy can hold his own.”
She opened the door to Luigi’s, but I paused at the threshold and pointed at her. “I fucking mean it. That’s my brother and I will cut you.”
She laughed and this time it was real. “I hear you, crazy lady. Put down your scissors.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha. You’re hilarious.”
“Can we at least get some food before you cut me? Yeah?”
“Fine.” I gave her a final look of warning before we entered the pizza place. I’d never cut her. Not even for Ollie, but she didn’t need to know that.
As we were taking our seats my phone pinged with a text. I clicked, not recognizing the number.
I’d love to schedule a time to connect with you about Ella. My apologies for not respecting your time.
That was all it said. But I knew exactly who it was and all of a sudden the phone in my hand felt like I was holding dynamite instead. Lukas was messaging me. Did he know it was me? He wasn’t all like hey, Scarlett, let’s meet up for drinks and rehash old memories and talk about why I haven’t spoken to you in ten long years.
I had to admit, part of me loved giving Luk a hard time, but I thought he had intentionally missed our meetings because he was avoiding me, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe he didn’t know I was Ella’s teacher. Maybe this wasn’t him avoiding me. Maybe he just had no clue who Ms. Lettie was. Oh my Lord. That had to be it. He had no clue who I freaking was. I grinned.