Page 24

Crew

O livia’s got the progression of a wedding down to a science. Watching her coach a bride down the aisle is a fascination in itself.

I feel at ease knowing Taylor’s here tonight too. He’s close to Olivia ahead of me, watching as one of the bridesmaids gives a speech. Through my earpiece, I’ve heard snippets of their conversation all night.

Taylor’s more friendly than I am. I like to think we balance each other out. When he leans down and whispers some joke under his breath, her shoulders shake on a silent laugh.

He’s been quietly updating me while I’ve hung behind and watched our surroundings. It's not likely something will happen tonight. But I’m not willing to chance it. The room erupts in applause as a speech ends and music fills the hall.

Everyone stands to dance, and as Olivia and Taylor slowly file away from the tables, I hear Taylor’s voice over the headpiece: “Guy at 12:00. Headed this way.”

When I spot him, it takes too much effort not to sigh.

Chase Sutherland.

Good god, is this guy everywhere?

“You know him?” Taylor sneaks a look at me, and I try my best not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. They’ve met a couple of times. I want to hear every word.”

He huffs, the sound partially a laugh. “Yes, Sir.”

“We can’t keep meeting like this, Olivia.” Chase starts, and the insufferable flirty edge is enough to have me prowling forward.

“How’s that?” comes Olivia’s smiling reply.

“A wedding is hardly the place for a date. Someone always pulls you away before I can snag you for a dance.”

I hang near the bar to watch her reaction. She smiles, a faint shade of pink dusting her cheeks. “If I recall, you’ve yet to ask me for a dance, Mr. Sutherland.”

“Chase. Please,” he reaches for her hand, kissing her knuckles. “Allow me to remedy that.” Before she can even object, he smoothly adds, “Just one dance.”

Olivia smiles, and I can’t quite tell if it’s her usual polite bravado or not “Alright, one- but then I have work to do.”

He takes her hand, whipping her onto the dance floor as she laughs. I can’t hear what they’re saying now, but my eyes are latched onto his hands. One holds herpalm and the other hovers at the small of her back.

Polite enough- but I still don’t like it .

“How do you know him?” Taylor asks, and with a casual glance toward him, I can see he’s leaning against the opposite side of the bar.

“He’s introduced himself a few times. Record’s clean mainly, but I don’t like the feeling I’m getting.

Taylor stifles a laugh. “Look up his record already?”

“You know I make it a point to know when I see someone’s face more than once.”

“True enough.” He’s still teasing me.

“What do you think of him?”

Taylor’s shrug is casual, hidden as he checks the time on his watch. “Seems like another rich guy to me." He has a point, but I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off about this guy. “You think we should watch him more closely?”

I glance at them again only to find Olivia’s head tipped back in a laugh. “I don’t know yet.”

When the song ends and they finally break apart, Olivia motions, making her exit swift. But not before he leans in, kissing her cheek. She’s smiling when he pulls away, the verdant green of her dress floating like a cloud around her.

“I got it,” I blurt before Taylor can kick off the bar to follow her.

It isn’t breaking protocol, but it sure as hell isn’t following it. I don’t know what compels me to, but once I’m behind her and she tilts her head to look at me, there’s no undoing it.

“I almost forgot you were here, Warden. You’re not usually one for small talk.”

Normally, I don’t feel the need to talk at all. Never have. And I shouldn’t respond, but the more I convince myself I shouldn’t, the less I’m able to think straight.

“I believe you still owe me a question, Ms. Hughes.”

“I didn’t know we were still playing,” she whispers just as one of the bridesmaids blocks her path with an arm propped on her hip. "Is there somewhere we should go after the send off?”

Olivia doesn’t miss the sharp edge to the woman’s voice, but she still smiles. “Yes. We’ll all meet back in the bridal suite.”

The girl purses her lips. “How long do you think we’ll be here? I really don’t want to be here late.”

“As long as it takes to make your best friend’s night go smoothly. That’s why we’re here, right?”

The woman’s smile is all fake, and her voice reeks of faux enthusiasm. “Right.”

“Better hurry. Looks like the photographer is lining everyone up for last minute shots. Wouldn’t want to miss a photo-opp.” Olivia is all but calling her on her self-absorbed comment, and it’s hard to hide my smile.

With an all but subtle roll of her eyes, the woman struts away. Olivia lets the encounter roll off her shoulders, offering me a knowing smile as we follow the masses outside.

Moonlight casts a soft glow over the venue gardens, and under a twisting arch of flowers, an expensive car pulls up. A driver hops out to help the bride and groom into the back.

Just married, a sign reads.

Olivia stands on her toes to get a good look of the couple, leaning close enough that I get a hint of her citrus verbena perfume. The scent alone distracts me enough that when she nudges my chest, I almost miss the cannon of streamers that shoot off as the couple kisses.

“This is my favorite part,” she tells me quietly, clapping with everyone as the photographer flashes a couple of shots.

“The send off?” I quirk a brow brow. She smiles as the car pulls under the arch before driving away.

“People spend too much money on the wedding and the ring, in my opinion. The honeymoon, when you finally get to be alone? That’s where the money should be.”

I crack a smile. “Don’t you run a wedding planning business?”

“And?” she retorts. “That just means I know how overpriced everything is when you slap the word ‘ wedding ’ on it.”

Fair.

Within moments, the excitement and the amour wear away. The music quiets inside and the guests begin to file down the manicured lawn toward the parking lot as the wedding party files inside for cleanup.

Olivia offers a knowing grin as the same bridesmaid from earlier passes with a scowl. “This is my least favorite part.”

With that, Olivia switches into high-gear. She coaches everyone through cleaning like she’s done it a thousand times. She probably has. It’s less than an hour before the venue is cleared and the decor is neatly piled into vehicles and everyone is packed away with it.

Olivia yawns, frowning when she sees it’s three in the morning.

We’ve still got an hour drive back.

Taylor waits by his SUV as Liv and I stroll toward her car for the night.

“Do you think Lydia will still be up or are you planning on sneaking in?” she asks him, smiling lazily.

“Well, I hope she’s sleeping. If she’s awake right now, I’ll be worried.”

“That’s right. She’s got the babe to think about. Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?”

He laughs happily. “A healthy baby girl if all allows.”

Olivia’s eyes widen, and she reaches up to hug him. “Congrats! I’m so damn happy for you.”

“Thank you. We’re really excited.” Something in my chest squeezes at the sight of him so happy. It’s a good thing. He’s been through a lot. He deserves it. “You better head back.” He releases her and waves at me. “I’ll see you at hand off.”

“Tomorrow,” I agree, and with a wave, Olivia smiles and pops the back door of her car.

“Warden, hate to leave you without company, but I’m going to pass out.” She yanks the door closed as I slide into the driver’s seat. “Back here,” she adds, and in the rear view mirror, I see her tug on the seatbelt so that she can lay flat, knees tucked under her.

I’m dead tired from all of the socializing- even if it was from a distance- and I’m content to drive us back in silence.

“What about you, Warden?” I abruptly hear. Slowly, sleepily, and with a small yawn, she sits upright to meet my eye. “Wedding or honeymoon?”

She’s referring to our conversation earlier, and I clear my throat before answering. “Can’t say I’ve thought about either.”

She giggles to herself at the thought. “I can’t imagine you married.”

That makes two of us .

“I can definitely picture you at some tiki bar on a honeymoon though. Tropical drink in one hand with a nice tan.”

I snort a laugh at the comment, glancing back to see her smiling, eyes still closed. “I’m surprised you didn’t guess beer.”

I fit the look of a military man. The build, the demeanor, and when you enlist you get used to the taste of beer- warm, cold, whatever you can get your hands on- pretty quickly. But it was never my preference.

“No,” she sighs happily, brows furrowing. “You don’t strike me as a beer kind of guy.”

She’s right, and I don’t know why it startles me so much that she guesses correctly. She’s not supposed to know these things.

“You never drink liquor,” I say suddenly, my hands tightening on the wheel. It’s not quite a question. Maybe an observation.

She never has more than a glass to drink .

She hums quietly. A confirmation. “Not since Mom.” We haven’t talked about her mother’s death, but her panic attack has remained an unspoken reminder between us. “I don’t know why. I like to think it’s the right thing to do. But… logically, I know it’s not any different.”

I remember how long it took not to associate the taste of alcohol with a bad day in the military.

I clear my throat, knowing how it feels. “Drinking… does it make you think of her?”

“Yes.” Her words are quiet, haunted, sad. I can’t help but glance at her.

“Then it’s different.”

Her blue eyes meet mine in the mirror briefly. She looks away first, and I force myself to focus on the road.

“How do you feel about croissants?” she blurts, and at the abruptness, I look at her again.

The vulnerability is gone, replaced by curiosity. “I mean, they didn’t break my heart at seventeen or anything-“

“Shut UP,” she laughs, and my expression cracks. “How do you feel about EATING croissants?”

“Indifferent,” I answer.

She grins, settling back in her seat again. “We’ll see about that.”

It isn’t long before we get back. Olivia stifles another yawn as I hold the door open. Even at her full height in heels, she doesn’t even come up to my chin. As if she notices, she crosses her arms, casually stepping around me.

“Are you too tired for an adventure?” she asks.

I was.

“Not a chance.”

She hums. “You won’t mind sitting with Ricky then?”

If I remember correctly, Ricky is the man posted outside Liv’s apartment. Seems friendly enough. She likes him, but I’d be lying if I said the whole thing didn’t irk me. I can’t find any information on him.

“He’ll be awake?”

She takes off without waiting for my reply. “Usually is.”

Despite wearing heels and a dress, Olivia blends right into the liveliness and the glamor of the market. I’ve lived in Sutton for too long not to know this side of the city existed.

It’s loud and wild and- alive. When she comes to a stop in front of the red stall I vaguely remember from last time, I realize this is a routine.

She asks how he is, he nods, and she orders like she’s done it a thousand times. As the man gathers the pastries, she digs around in her purse. But I slap down a bill before she gets a chance, offering a quick ' thank you ' as the man scoots the boxes toward me.

“Hey!” she hollers as I carry them, strolling ahead. “I was paying for that!”

“Hurry up, Princess,” I call, but I slow my pace.

“Still up, Ricky?” she asks as we near.

I hear him rustling around before the tent flap opens and he comes hobbling out.

“You are a sight for sore eyes. Where ya been?”

“Oh, ya know,” she says before his eyes find me and he frowns.

“I see you brought your friend with you.”

“I did, but I’m on a mission of sorts, Ricky. Need your help.”

“Come on now.” He brings out two buckets, throwing them down like seats for us. “What is it?”

“This man-“ she motions toward the boxes I’m holding. “...is indifferent toward croissants and tonight… we’re going to change his mind.”

“Hell yeah. I can get behind that.”

They make a show of flipping open the boxes and tearing the sides into makeshift plates. The smell of butter and garlic invades my nose, and my stomach growls. They evenly distribute the flavors amongst us.

“Thank you,” I say, still weary of the man sitting across from me. He watches me, licking his lips. I take a quick bite, but when the flaky layers hit my mouth, I can’t help but take another.

“Well?” Ricky prods.

Olivia’s smile is all satisfied. Like she knows i t’s so fucking good.

Ricky digs in, and for a few minutes, we’re all just scarfing down food like our lives depend on it. And when I’m done, I wipe my mouth with my hand. “It’s alright.”

“Alright?!” Ricky shrills. “That’s the best damn croissant you’ve ever put in your mouth!”

Olivia bursts out laughing. “He knows. He’s just too stern to admit it.”

“I said it’s alright,” I counter, and her eyes glimmer with another smile.

“I’ll get better than that one of these days.”

It’s a promise, and the longer I look at her, I realize just how determined she is. My eyes flit between the both of them, and when I find Ricky eying me, I raise a brow. I want to know his story- and if he were anyone else, I would by now.

I lift my chin. “How exactly did you two meet?”

Ricky’s nostrils flare, and he glances at her with a look that says Do I really have to answer this guy?

Olivia nods.

“I met Ms. Livia a couple of years back. I was in a bad place, barely holdin’ my head above water, and she… she was kind to me. Only person who was.”

The information isn’t surprising. In fact, it only confirms the creeping suspicion I have that Olivia Hughes is nice.

One glance at her and I can spy the watery sheen of her eyes. “I wish the last few years weren’t so hard.”

“Part my own fault. I made some bad choices once upon a time. But I did my time.” Ricky nods. “Ms. Livia gave me a place to stay when I needed it. Still takes care of me. ‘N I do my best to do the same.”

I gotta give the man credit. Most people wouldn’t be honest about serving a sentence.

“You’re gonna make me cry,” Olivia swipes the unshed tears from her eyes, and my stomach bottoms out. The very thought of her crying makes me want to hit something. “Shit, sorry. I did not want to cry tonight. This week’s been a lot… and it’s late.”

“Ms. Livia, if I didn’t smell like a wet dog, I’d hug ya right now. But even I know I don’t smell nice.” When I casually roll my neck, he glances at me again. “Besides, he’d probably shoot me where I stand.”

There’s not a lot I wouldn’t do if I thought she was in danger. But I offer a smirk. Not a confirmation, nor a denial.

Olivia scoffs, rolling her eyes with a smile. “I’m starting to think he gets off on making people scared of him.”

A laugh cracks out of Ricky. “So I’m not the only one?”

She laughs, adjusting her dress. “Honestly, for someone who doesn’t like coffee or croissants, I’m surprised you’ve made it this long.”

She’s teasing, of course. But I still raise a brow. “Meaning?”

“I would’ve thought natural selection would’ve weeded you out by now.”

Olivia and Ricky lapse into conversation, laughing and talking about life. All the while, I try my best not to notice her smile. It isn’t the forced smile- the one that doesn’t reach her eyes. This one is real. The light of the market reflects across her blue eyes.

Happiness , I recognize.

After the week she’s had, she deserves it. It must be an hour that they go back and forth, and I spend most of it watching as a sleepy haze falls over her like a blanket. Her eyes slowly droop as she sags against the alley wall.

“You’re fading on me, Ms. Livia,” Ricky teases her.

Her eyes pop open. “I would… never.” She’s barely sitting upright, and when she nods off again, I carefully haul her into my arms as she stirs. Her head eventually lulls aside.

“Goodnight.” I dip my chin in farewell, but his voice stops me as I go:

“If you were wondering… She’s good people.”

The look on his face is not quite a smile, not quite a frown. Maybe he’s telling me because he knows I haven’t allowed myself to consider the possibility that she is good. Kind.

Thoughtful.

“I know.”

The apartment is dark when I step inside, but at the sound of the lock chirping, Olivia’s eyes slowly open. I lower her to her feet gently. She wobbles a bit as Chesna purrs from the couch. She’s too weak to greet us like she usually does, and Olivia frowns, kneeling down.

“Hi, Ches,” she whispers, resting her head beside Chesna’s stomach. And then… just when I least expect it, she asks, “How did she die? Winter.”

I freeze at the question, not really sure whether to answer.

“Addiction. Blood loss. Hard to blame it on any one thing,” I answer quietly. “She owed some bad people money… and I found out too late.”

For a long time, she’s quiet. No condolences. No pity. Just three impossibly long seconds before she asks again, “Do you blame yourself?”

“Used to.”

Another long second passes.

“And now?”

With a sigh, I feel myself answer softly, “I’m learning to let it go.”

It’s probably the closest I’ve ever come to explaining grief to anyone. It’s never about getting over it. It’s about learning to live with it. Yet I don’t feel the need to explain any of that to her.

She knows.

“It’s lonely, isn’t it?” she rasps, and I close my eyes. "Is she the reason you left the military?" she asks sleepily.

I sigh, opening my eyes again to look at her. I don't think I've talked to anyone about why I left.

But with her it feels easy .

"I left because I regretted signing myself over to a cause I didn't believe in. I fought for the wrong side," I say. I don't quite know whether or not I've ever admitted it to myself- let alone another person. “You should sleep, Liv,” my voice is low.

Olivia nods but doesn’t move. “I will.” Her voice is soft. Broken. “Just need to see my girl for a little.”

I don’t know how long I stand there watching them. Olivia nods off, and Chesna’s sound asleep when I stroll over and lift Olivia. I tuck her on the couch behind Chesna, and they’re both snuggling when I drop a blanket over them.

Despite feeling exhausted, I know I won’t be able to sleep tonight.

Not with the itch of wanting to know who exactly is targeting the Hughes.