by Harlow James
“So? If I had to do it all over again, I would. You needed that, Kane. And now the more I see you up in arms about this woman, the more I think you need her,” he says while pointing his finger back at me.
“I don’t need a woman…”
“You may not think that now, but trust me… no man is meant to walk this Earth alone. As much as we don’t want to admit it, a good woman makes life worth living, son. Trust me… when I found Georgia, life had a new meaning after her. If anything can help heal you, it’s love.”
“Hey, I’m not saying I’m in love with the woman. I’d say it’s more along the lines of infatuation. Love is what got me in this mess to begin with, Tony. Loving Natasha ended up being the catalyst to a nuclear bomb. Everything and everyone was destroyed in my path after that…”
He nods and then leans in closer to me, his eyes level with mine. “Because you let it. Eventually, you have to rebuild, Kane. It’s been three years, and I’ve never seen you like this before. You and Red obviously had more than just a physical connection. Explore it. You owe it to yourself.”
My eyes drop to my hands holding my glass, the condensation running down the sides, my thumbs erasing it with each pass of my fingertips. Tony is right, yet another person in my life pushing me to break past this fear I have, and with each piece of advice, I feel myself getting closer to breaking through the barrier.
“Olivia,” I state.
“What?”
“Her name is Olivia… and fuck me, Tony… she’s everything right and infuriating in a woman. She’s intense and passionate, intelligent and witty, beautiful and also kind. She’s stubborn, yet sexily confident. She’s classy, but wild. And every time I talk to her, I fuck it up by saying the wrong thing—or like yesterday, not being able to finish a thought.”
“The bell rang, Kane. That’s not your fault. When’s the next time you’ll see her?”
I sigh, knowing tomorrow night is the best opportunity I have to get us back on track. Tomorrow is the fall mixer at Drew and Tammy’s house.
“Tomorrow. There’s a party for all the staff at the school. I know she’ll be there.”
“Then use that time to lay it all on the line with her. I mean, you don’t have to bare your heart and soul to the woman—not yet, anyway. But let her know that you want to pursue her, feel it out between the two of you to see if there’s something more there.”
I nod repeatedly, knowing that Tony’s correct. Tomorrow is my perfect chance to push things with Olivia in the right direction. I just hope I can finish a sentence this time.
Chapter 19
Olivia
“I’m pulling up to their house right now,” I inform Clara on my Bluetooth speaker as I pull up to a front yard and a driveway full of parked cars.
“Will Kane be there?”
“I’m assuming so. He does work at the school, remember?”
“No shit, woman. I just thought maybe after what happened at the game, he’d chicken out about seeing you.” Last weekend after Kane and I had it out in the tunnel, I called my friends and filled them in on the development.
“Yeah, well, I almost chickened out about coming here too. Especially after Thursday…”
“What the hell happened Thursday? Jesus Christ, Liv! You gotta keep a woman informed!” Clara shouts in the phone, making me cringe as I find a spot to park that won’t leave me boxed in just in case I have to escape in a hurry.
“Sorry. I have this thing called a job, and so do you. It’s hard to catch each other on the phone!”
“Yeah, stupid need for money to live and shit ruining our lives. Okay, so fill me in.”
And I do in the cliff notes version, recounting the entire scone debacle in less than five minutes.
Debacle is a strong word to use to describe that event. But right now, I feel like every interaction with Kane is a debacle. I just wish I knew where we stood.
Are we friends? Enemies? Just colleagues? Or is there a hope of more?
“Okay, well you’d better call me tomorrow and let me know what the hell happens tonight, or I will hunt you down at your parent’s house for dinner tomorrow and unofficially invite myself.”
“You know you’re always welcome at my parent’s house…” And it’s true. My parents adore my three best friends. We spent so much time together in high school, especially at my house, that my parents joked they really had four daughters. My poor brother was surrounded by estrogen constantly.
“Well, I just might then. What’s Mama Walsh making for the customary Sunday night dinner?”
“Chicken and dumplings, I believe.”
“Oh, fuck me. Yeah, I’ll be there,” Clara moans in the phone, garnering a laugh from me as I check my face one last time in the rearview mirror.
“Okay. Well, here I go,” I declare, taking a deep breath to quell my nerves.
“You’ve got this. Just have fun. Make some new friends. Don’t drink too much, because you don’t want to be that co-worker—the one who can’t handle her liquor and gets overly friendly. Before you know it, you’re walking around blind-folded trying to play pin the tail on the cock…”
“Dear lord, please tell me you’re not speaking from experience?”
Dead silence echoes on the other end of the phone.
“Clara! You did not!”
“Ha! Oh no, not me. Sorry, my phone cut out. No, some slutty secretary at my office lost her marbles at the Christmas party last year. Security had to usher her out.”
I’m dying of laughter. “Oh, Jesus. Okay, not too much to drink. Got it.”
“Go get ‘em, Liv.”
“Love ya!”
“Love ya, too!”
I end the call and gather my phone and lip gloss, depositing both items in the pocket of my new Calvin Klein coat I snatched up for dirt cheap at Marshall’s. I shouldn’t need a purse or I.D. This is a house party, not a bar or concert I’m walking in to.
Setting the alarm on my car, I head for the house, the chill of the fall air hitting my nose and ears, causing them to instantly freeze. The temperatures have already dropped below freezing a few times this year, which is normal for Oregon. Pretty soon there will be snow days and the holidays will be here.
The sound of chatter and laughter filters out from beneath the garage door that has been cracked. The front of the house is supremely lit with solar lights and hanging lanterns from the stucco. A giant red door is the only thing standing between me and a night of social anxiety. It’s not so much the other people I’m anxious about seeing and meeting.
It’s just one person in particular.
I don’t bother knocking, knowing the chance of someone hearing it would be slim, so I turn the handle and push open the large barn door into a comforting home, charmingly decorated and open, the living room being the first thing you see. A giant brown sectional sofa curves around the room, facing a large flat screen anchored to the wall. Candles are lit on top of various surfaces and pictures frames filled with memories of Drew and Tammy’s life adorn the walls. Looking around the room, you see the evidence of a life well-lived, a life joining two people who care deeply about one another.
Melancholy swallows me whole as I remember I am no closer to finding that myself. Hell, especially with all the drama surrounding my sexcapades with Kane, I’d say I’m three steps behind right now.
“Olivia! You’re here!” An overenthusiastic and slightly drunk Tammy greets me, emerging from a hallway that must lead to the garage where the party is clearly gathered.
“I told you I would be here. Thanks for having me,” I pull her into a hug where she almost takes me down to the floor in her excitement.
“Oops. Sorry,” she laughs, righting herself as we both adjust our clothing from the close fall. “Come, come! Did you bring anything to drink?”
I shake my head, unaware this was a bring your own beverage type of party.
“No worries. We have beer and wine in the fridge in the garage. Typically, people bring their pref
erred drink of choice, but we always make sure to have stuff that anyone would like.”
“Sounds great. I love wine,” I answer, following closely behind Tammy as she escorts me out to the garage.
Filtering through the door, I’m surrounded by a room full of Emerson Falls High School staff. Many faces I recognize, some I’ve never seen, but I’d bet I only know a handful of names. When you’re encased in your own four walls at school, it’s hard to break free, let alone have time to mingle. Hence, the point of this party, I presume.
“Hey, everyone!” Tammy shouts over the low-playing music and cacophony of chatter. “This is Oliva Walsh, our new math teacher! Olivia, this is everyone!”
A collective “Hi!” rings out right before everyone resumes their conversations, a few people taking a moment to walk over and introduce themselves.
There’s Harriet Tilman, our art teacher. She’s a wiry old lady with long grey hair and turtle shell glasses, whose wardrobe looks like it’s stuck in the sixties. But I know from the students that they love her, and after speaking with her, I can see why. She’s so carefree and in tune with her surrounding energy… she’d make me want to take art and I can’t draw a stick figure to save my life.
Sally Betts, one of the English teachers, comes up next to introduce herself. She’s known for dressing up in a costume of the characters from whatever novel or play her classes are reading. I’ve heard she’s channeled her inner Robin Williams and stood on her desk to recite lines before. The animation she uses when she talks definitely solidifies how charismatic of teacher she must be.
The other members of the math department stride up to me at various points to say hello as well. I know most of them now from the two meetings we’ve had since I arrived. It’s always nice to have a group of people who get you. Few other people on the planet share a passion for math like I do, and physically, I definitely don’t fit the stereotype. Math teachers have a bad rap for being middle-aged white men with receding hairlines and calculators in their pockets. Last time I checked, that wasn’t me.
“So you’re the newbie, huh?” I turn around, coming face to face with Mrs. Waterman, or what some other teachers have referred to as ‘the succubus.’
“Uh, yes. Hi, I’m Olivia. It’s nice to meet you,” I offer while extending my hand. She inspects my palm before barely placing her fingers in mine, half-heartedly shaking my hand in reciprocation.
God, I can’t stand it when people can’t give a proper handshake. Didn’t anyone teach them how important a strong greeting is? How pivotal that first impression can be?
One of these flimsy handshakes I’m receiving right now just irritates my soul.
“Alice. So, how have the little punks been treating you?” She grits out while taking a sip from her red wine. She’s got that saliva build-up in the corners of her mouth that is making me want to gag.
“Uh, just fine actually. I really love my students.”
“Ha. Just give it time,” she snarks, and I immediately know I need to get as far away from this woman as I can before she wrangles me into her cult of teachers who stick around in the profession for the summers off and full benefits.
I know teachers like her. There are a few at every school. They hate their jobs and really don’t like kids, yet they’ve been there for so long, there’s no reason for them to leave. It’s so unfair to the students who end up in their classrooms. I vow to never be one of those teachers.
“Olivia, there you are,” the voice I hear immediately pulls my attention as I twist around and am greeted by Kane, dressed in dark jeans and a black pea coat, his hair perfectly tousled and his beard neatly trimmed, framing that rugged jaw and highlighting those whiskey-colored eyes. Damn, why does he have to be so freaking sexy?
“Yes, uh, here I am,” I answer timidly, not really sure where he’s going with this.
“Sorry, Alice, but I need to steal Olivia away. There’s a situation I need her assistance with. You have a great evening,” he politely dismisses her while reaching for my hand, interlacing our fingers together before pulling me behind him out of the back door of the garage and onto a large patio, overlooking a forested field, the music from inside the garage becoming just a distant sound.
The feel of our hands entangled together makes butterflies take flight in my stomach, the warmth of his skin on mine helps heat me up as the frigid air hits my face. Kane takes the lead as he walks us past a few people sitting at a steel patio table and around the corner where a standing swing sits under the eaves of the porch, overlooking a different side of the property.
“Take a seat,” he urges me and I comply, even though I’m completely confused as to why he pulled me away from everyone. This is the man that now, on more than one occasion, I have vowed to stay away from—for his benefit—and yet, he’s the one making it a mission for us to be alone.
The side of the house we’re perched up against is dimly lit, only the residual light cast from the front and back of the house providing enough glow that I can still see the features of Kane’s face, the same ones that pulled me in that first night and I haven’t managed to forget.
“Sorry to pull you away, but believe me, I was saving you from a torturous conversation with Alice.”
I chuckle as I realize Kane was protecting me, an unfamiliar feeling hitting me in my chest. If you would have asked me last week if I thought Kane would come to my rescue again, I would have laughed in your face. He saved me from crickets already, but after our encounters since then, I assumed our relationship was headed in a very different direction.
“As soon as she opened her mouth, I knew I was in for a world of hurt.”
“Yup. That woman will suck you in and spin a web around you of venomous thread, and before you know it, you’ll start believing everything she says.”
“You forget, Kane. I’ve been a teacher at another school before this. I know about the Alice’s of the educational world.”
He gives me a half smile before realizing he’s still holding my hand, releasing mine gently as he turns to face me more. Propping one foot on his other knee, he tilts his head in my direction.
“Where did you teach before this?”
“Uh, in Northern California, a little outside of Napa. Being that close to wine country sure had its perks,” I jest while adjusting my hair behind one of my ears.
“So what brought you to Emerson Falls then?” Kane’s eyes are studying me, making me even more nervous about this conversation. I have so many questions for him about why he suddenly seemed intrigued by me, but I can’t help but relish in the feeling of being normal with him right now, talking like two human beings who genuinely want to get to know each other.
I debate how much to divulge before opting for vagueness.
“I needed a change, so I came home. I actually grew up here. I went to Emerson Falls High, believe it or not.”
Kane’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “No kidding? How did it feel sitting in the stands the other night then?”
“It was odd, to say the least, but obviously I'm no stranger to that stadium. Emerson is just where I work now,” I answer, giving him a small glance into my past.
“What’s your favorite color?”
I’m taken aback at his abrupt change in topic and more than innocent question.
“Uh, teal.”
“Nice. Favorite food?”
“Sushi,” I answer, pondering this inquisition even further.
“Never had it. When’s your birthday?”
“July sixteenth. Kane,” I begin to stop him, but he cuts me off.
“Sweet. Mine’s the tenth of April. Any siblings?”
I scrunch my face at him, irritation clouding my mind as I realize he’s sitting here and drilling me and I have no idea why.
“I’m sorry, but are we playing twenty questions here?” I ask, sarcasm lacing my words.
Kane retreats, scooting back along the swing, increasing the distance between us.
“What’s goin
g on, Kane? Forgive me for being curious, but the last time we spoke you made it clear you didn’t know what you wanted from me. Before that, I thought we had agreed to stay away from each other. And now, you’re acting like we're best buds and interviewing me like I’m in the running for your new best friend. I’m… I’m just confused,” I confess, my inquiry causing a shift in the conversation between us.
Kane’s head lifts now, but he’s staring out into the yard, not at me. After what feels like the longest silence of my life, he finally speaks just loud enough for me to hear.
"I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you feel uncomfortable. Shit…” He turns away, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I… I don’t know how to do this, Olivia…”
“Do what, Kane?”
Turning to face me now, I can see the fear in his eyes. This dominant and headstrong man I met just a few weeks ago looks like he’s on the verge of tears, or at least some sort of revelation.
“I don’t know how to date…”
“Date?” I ask in shock, completely flabbergasted that Kane’s thoughts regarding us were about dating.
He lets out a long breath before reaching for me, pulling my icy fingers into his warm palm, rubbing his thumb over the top of my hand. The warmth is not only counterbalancing the coldness of the air but also the frigid air between us.
“Yes, date. Christ, Olivia. You and I were supposed to just be a one-time thing, right? But when I saw you again, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Hell, I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I left that night. It’s been a long time since I’ve been interested in a woman… and I guess I’m just trying to get to know you. Hence the questions… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uneasy.”
The intensity of my pulse right now only makes my head spin that much faster. He wants to date me? Or get to know me? So all of these hot and cold signals he’s been giving me is because he doesn’t know how to handle what he’s feeling?
“Wow. Okay… I guess I understand. I mean, Kane… I’m not going to lie and say that I wasn’t thinking about you too after our night together. But when we ran into each other again—literally,” he chuckles as I continue, “You seemed so upset to see me again. I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”