Page 18

Olive

S ix hours was going by as slow as a sixty-second plank. Not that I ever do those. Obviously. I just hear they suck.

And being around my father sucks too.

It’s been two hours.

Two very, very long hours. It started off okay. He came out as soon as I pulled into the driveway and gave me a hug that felt almost fatherly. It was…strange. But it didn’t last.

Nope.

As soon as I walked inside holding the bottle of Coca-Cola that I bought at a gas station, it went downhill quickly.

Mostly because Candi told me how bad soda was for me as if this was new news.

The woman who barely looks my age is apparently unemployed after being fired from a club where she was a hostess.

I don’t know how one gets fired from hosting, but it doesn’t seem like she’s too upset about it or that eager to find something else.

“…ten teaspoons of sugar! That’s an entire day’s daily intake of sugar in one drink,” Candi drones on.

I thought we’d moved on from this, but here I am, drinking my brown-dyed sugar liquid and nod like I’m supposed to care.

“The least you could do is switch to Coke Zero if you’re going to continue living this way. ”

This way. Internally, I snort. If being slightly addicted to Coca-Cola is the worst thing I do, I think I’m doing okay. It could be heroin. “At least I’m not drinking the original recipe that had residual cocaine in it from the leaves they used,” I offer with a smile on my face.

Candi blinks, trying to decipher my chipper tone. “Cocaine is a horrible drug. I used to have a friend who thought she could lose weight on it, but the exact opposite happened. She gained weight. At least twenty pounds.”

I look between her and Dad, wondering if he’ll step in. But who am I kidding? He won’t. “I hear heroin does wonders for weight loss. You should pass that along to her.”

“Olive,” Dad chides, as if I’m the one being unreasonable even though she’s the one who brought up her friends bad dieting habits.

“What? That’s what I’ve heard.”

Candi pats my father’s knee. “She’s right, Luke. It’s so sad to see how many people go to drugs.”

I roll my eyes and finish my drink.

“You know,” Candi says, turning to me. “I used to be a health coach.” Here we go. “And I could give you some pointers. Maybe help you lose some weight or learn how to eat right.”

I know how to eat right, I just choose not to get my daily intake of vegetables like I do my sugar. I don’t need anybody to give me a basic food list of things everybody knows they should be eating.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell her, knowing damn well I won’t take her up on it.

Dad clears his throat. “She’s helped me lose about fifteen pounds since we started seeing each other. It could really help you. I even go to the gym three times a week on top of that horrid cycling class she insisted I join her at.”

Standing, I force a smile before he tells me more about the exciting world of cycling. “I have to use the bathroom. Excuse me.”

On the way to the guest bathroom on the other side of the kitchen, I stop when I hear a door close outside. Peeking out the curtain covering the door, my brows shoot up when I see who’s walking up the front path.

Unlocking the deadbolt, I open the door and gape at the Chris Hemsworth lookalike. “Seb called you,” I say, still shocked when Bodhi stops a few inches in front of me. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since that day at my mother’s house.

“I would have been here sooner, but I was dealing with something,” he apologizes. He opens his arms. “You going to hug me, or what?”

I’ve seen his private parts.

Felt them too.

And he’s acting like nothing happened.

I don’t hate it. I step into him and feel his arms wrap around me, squeezing once like he always does. It doesn’t feel forced or uncomfortable, and I find myself smiling when I pull back. “You didn’t have to come. I told my brother I could handle things here.”

He drapes an arm over my shoulder and tugs me into his side. “I don’t mind. Truthfully, I could use a little break from…things.”

Ah. Things. “Things, huh?”

Before he replies, my father appears at the door. “Who is this, Olive?”

Candi pops up behind him. “Oh, hello. Olive, why haven’t you invited your…friend in?”

Friend . Snort.

It’s Bodhi who answers. “She wasn’t expecting me,” he explains, extending his hand out to my father. “I’m Bodhi Hoffman. I play hockey with Sebastian.”

“Oh!” Candi chirps. “How wonderful. He isn’t here, unfortunately.”

My father’s shoulders ease when he announces who he is. He shakes Bodhi’s hand with an easy smile. “Hoffman. Yeah, I remember. I’ve seen you play. It’s good to formally meet you.”

“You too, sir.”

Sir . Double snort.

Dad goes to Sebastian’s games once in a while, but he’s never been introduced to the team the way Mom and I have. I take pride in that.

Candi pulls on my father. “Luke, let Sebastian’s friend come in. We were just about to eat lunch.”

How quickly it went from my friend to Sebastian’s.

Bodhi doesn’t drop his arm. “I’m actually here to see Olive. But if you have soda and some food, I’ll happily stick around.”

This time, I actually snort aloud. Dad eyes me as if he knows I’m seconds away from making a comment. As we walk inside, I say, “Candi isn’t a fan of soda. Apparently, it’s bad for you.”

Bodhi pats his stomach that I know for a fact is rock hard. There’s not an ounce of body fat on the mammoth of a man still holding onto me. It’s unfair. And hot. “Very few things in life are good for you. My kryptonite has always been Mountain Dew since I was a kid.”

I swear Candi gasps. Literally gasps with her hand flying to her chest like she’s clutching her invisible pearls. “Do you know how much sugar and caffeine is in that?”

Dad pats her arm, glancing apologetically at Bodhi. “Candi, let’s not berate our guests about all of that.”

“Yeah,” I chime in sweetly, curling an arm around Bodhi’s waist. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re rude for commenting on their dietary habits, huh Dad?”

His brown eyes shoot to me in warning, telling me to silently behave. My only response is to smiler wider.

Candi doesn’t stop though. “No, really, Luke. I did a science fair project in high school comparing sugar content in all the popular sodas. Mountain Dew had the highest sugar content, and don’t get me started on the caffeine and chemicals. It’s banned in certain countries for a reason.”

“When was that project due, five years ago?” I inquire.

Bodhi’s arm twitches around my shoulders. I pinch his waist making him squirm when my father sighs heavily. “Olive…”

My smile doesn’t waver. “What? She looks so young. It’s basically a compliment.”

Candi perks up. “It’s my skincare routine. The secret is beef tallow. Makes me look forever twenty-five.”

She leads us into the living room with Dad following close behind.

Bodhi finally releases me, winking when we’re told to take the two seats by each other at the end of the table. The food spread out looks…colorful. And healthy. Very healthy.

He must notice the same thing because he’s examining the closest dish to him quietly.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Candi says. “I made my famous vegetable salad using everything I grew in the garden this year.”

Bodhi looks impressed. Out of the two of us, he definitely eats more vegetables. You can’t get abs like his without a lot of protein, lean meats, and greens. “My mom is big into gardening,” he tells her. “Last year the sweetcorn shot up over six feet. Her backyard looked like a corn field.”

Candi smiles. “That’s amazing. We had a pest problem this year, so half of our garden was ruined. But I salvaged what I could.”

My nose scrunches at the thought of there being little bugs on my plate.

Candi must realize what I’m thinking. “Oh, don’t worry. I double checked everything before I brought them inside. You’ll love this! I made eggplant lasagna too because your father said how much you love lasagna.”

My mother makes the best meat lasagna I’ve ever had.

It’s traditional every Christmas that we make it together using her great-grandmother’s famous recipe that has a lot of cheese, meats, and noodles.

A far cry from the vegetarian option steaming in the casserole dish in front of me.

“I’ve never tried it with vegetables before,” I offer as she scoops some onto my plate.

I’m not unwilling to try it. At least Dad remembered how much I loved lasagna. It’s…something.

The beginning of the meal is fine, thanks to Bodhi.

His presence takes the pressure off of me.

My father asks him questions about how he got into hockey and how he likes playing for New York.

Candi interjects with her own questions about dietary habits and the nutrition it must take to keep up with training all of the athletes do.

That’s when things turn on me.

“Maybe you can convince Olive to speak to a dietitian,” Candi suggests innocently, stabbing a tomato with her fork.

“Luke has been trying for ages to get her to see somebody, but she insists she doesn’t need to.

I don’t think it would hurt. I used to be a health coach before all that Ozempic stuff started becoming a trend.

Exercise and healthy eating are what I preached.

Oh.” Candi perks up and turns to me. “Your doctor would totally approve you for Ozempic. One of my friends tried getting it online but they said she didn’t qualify because of her low BMI. But you would!”

Heat creeps under the skin of my cheeks as I stare down at my half-eaten food. I’ll admit, the eggplant lasagna is good, even if I don’t think there should be vegetables in the dish. But now I’m not going to compliment her on it. Because seriously? What the fuck?

Bodhi’s body stiffens beside me, his fork halting halfway to his mouth before dropping loudly onto the ceramic. His voice is firm, the tone lowered in disbelief as it cuts through the thick tension in the room. “Excuse me?”