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CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Olivia paused near the door to Tyson’s office.

She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. She really hadn’t.

But she hadn’t been able to help hearing part of the conversation.

Tyson had made it seem as if it wasn’t a big deal that he was here in Ocracoke with her and missing his prior engagements.

But it was.

Now his school was on the line. The building campaign might not happen, all because Tyson had chosen to come here with her.

How could Olivia live with herself knowing that?

She couldn’t.

The psycho taunting her had already ruined so much. She couldn’t let him ruin Tyson also. She knew Tyson thought he was being noble by staying here and protecting her.

And he was.

But Olivia couldn’t let him do that.

The only way she could think of to make things right was to . . . leave.

She wouldn’t be stupid about it. She wouldn’t leave without a plan.

But she could think of a safe way to get away from here and give Tyson his life back.

That was what she needed to do. She had no other choice.

If she tried to talk to Tyson about it, she had no doubt he’d convince her to stay.

Her gut squeezed at the thought of leaving. Of not being with Tyson.

But too many people’s lives had already been ruined.

It was time for that to end.

* * *

That night, Olivia and Tyson sat on a wooden swing on the deck and watched as the sunlight disappeared from the sky. It had become their routine.

Olivia truly would miss her time here. Her gut clenched at the thought.

She knew she’d been distant from Tyson since her last attack. But she needed to let him know how much he meant to her without tipping her hand.

As he walked her to her room, Olivia paused in front of him. Looked up at him. Soaked in the beautiful lines of his kind and handsome face.

She knew he’d been purposefully keeping his distance, trying to give her space. Unsure if she was ready for affection. Trying to be respectful.

She appreciated the way he put her needs first.

That quality was the same reason she had to leave, however.

Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Without thinking, she pressed her lips into his. The kiss was gentle at first, hesitant—like a question she couldn’t bring herself to ask aloud.

He stiffened for only a moment, surprised by her sudden closeness, before his shoulders relaxed. His hand found the small of her back, steadying her as he returned the kiss with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

She memorized everything—the warmth of his breath, the slight tremor in his fingers against her spine, the scent of him that had become so familiar.

When they finally pulled away, Olivia stared up at him, fighting to keep her expression from revealing too much. Her thumb traced the line of his jaw once, committing it to memory.

“Thank you for all you’ve done. For bringing me here. For everything. I know you didn’t have to do any of it.” The words felt painfully inadequate.

“You mean a lot to me, Olivia.” His voice sounded deep and husky, his eyes searching hers with a question she couldn’t answer.

Not now. Not yet.

It was one of the first times he’d said that aloud. Olivia relished his words—even though they made it harder for her to do what she needed to do.

“You mean a lot to me also,” she admitted. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant and confused.”

“You’ve had a lot going on.” He rubbed her arms.

Now she had to wait for the next part of her plan.

She hoped Tyson understood . . . and she prayed it was the right decision.