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Olive

C onsidering this visit was his idea, the last word I expect to come out of Alex’s mouth is fuck. Fuck what? Fuck him? Holy fuck? Fuck I can’t believe you’re here? I know which one I’d like him to choose, but the shear panic on his face is telling me I’m going to be sorely disappointed.

Maybe this is on me. Alex never liked surprises. I’ve always known that about him. “I thought you’d be happier to see me. But you look constipated. Or like someone kicked your grandma.”

Potty talk isn’t attractive, but is that what I’m here for? To be attractive? I’m not sure. I did pack my cute panties. The ones with a bow on the front and lace lining the sides. But it was a last-minute decision as I walked out the door. Just in case.

Because I drove all this way—all four and a half measly hours to see him. The traffic wasn’t bad, the scenery left more to be desired, but I still did it while jamming to John Mayer the whole way. And he looks…not happy.

“Alex?” Now I’m frowning, and the choice I made that led me to this very spot weighs on me. Did I make a mistake? Did I somehow misunderstand what he wanted? It seemed pretty clear when he said he wanted me, but now I’m second guessing myself.

He quickly looks inside before stepping out into hall, leaving his door cracked behind him. “I wasn’t expecting you. I figured a weekend would be easier for you.”

I stare between him and the door and ask the question I don’t want to. “Is there someone inside with you right now?”

He wets his lips, hesitating. “Yes. She was an unexpected guest. But it’s not what it sounds like. I—”

“Alex?” a woman calls out, opening the door and looking at me. “Oh. Who is this?”

Maybe if I were any other woman, I’d start questioning what’s going on.

But there’s two reasons why I don’t. One of them is that I have no claim over the man in front of me.

He can do whatever he wants, whether he tells me pretty words or not.

Which means he can do whoever he wants too.

I mean, I’m no saint. I’d like to think I’m reasonable enough to acknowledge that we’ve never agreed to be exclusive since knowing each other, no matter how sour it tastes in my mouth.

But the other reason, and arguably the biggest, is that this woman is undoubtedly related to Alex.

Her eyes are the same unique shade as his.

They’re both a beautiful vibrant shade of blue that can only be described as out of a romance.

They have the same brown hair, not quite dark but also not light; except hers is highlighted with gray streaks brought on by time.

There’s a softness to her features that aren’t on his—an easygoingness that he somehow didn’t inherit.

This is Alex’s mother.

“Ma, I told you to stay inside,” Alex says, confirming what I already know.

Ma. Ma . He’s talked about her briefly before but never showed me photos.

The only picture I’ve seen of his childhood is of him and his father at a Bruin’s game when he was little.

The jersey he’d been wearing was so big he drowned in it, but he had the biggest smile plastered on his face.

I always thought he looked just like his dad from that one picture, but I can see his mother’s features in him clear as day now.

“Hi,” I say, sticking my hand out past Alex’s rigid body. “I’m Olive. Sorry to drop by unannounced. I was surprising your son.”

The woman beams as she takes my hand. “I love that! Alex, you never told me you have a girlfriend. She’s a cutie. You don’t hear names like that either. It makes you stand out.”

I smile easily at her despite the label that she put on us. It’s not that far off to assume, so I don’t bother correcting her. I figure Alex can if he wants to, but he doesn’t say a thing. He didn’t correct the waitress when she called me ‘his girl’ either.

I tuck that information away to think about a different day. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“Colleen,” she says. “Come in. I don’t know where my son’s manners are, leaving you out in the hallway. Alex, get her bag.”

The woman who looks like she belongs in a nineties fashion magazine has way more strength than I give her credit for. She pulls me inside with force that makes my eyes widen, leaving Alex to grab the small duffle full of clothes that I left on the floor.

“So, Olive, what do you do?” Colleen asks me, bringing me over to the couch and sitting us down.

I look over my shoulder at Alex, who is watching us carefully as he sets my bag on the floor inside. When I look back at his mother, I smile at her. “I’m a student, actually. At Lindon. I’m going to graduate in the spring.”

Colleen beams. “I can’t believe we haven’t met before. I used to come to some of Alex’s games. I’m sad he never introduced us.”

I don’t have the heart to tell her that I rarely stuck around to be introduced. It’s not totally Alex’s fault. I knew his mother was there once in a while, but I never pushed him to meet her. I didn’t think that was allowed in our agreement. Then again, falling in love wasn’t part of it either.

Alex clears his throat. “Ma…”

“Hush, Alex,” she chides, pulling my hand into her lap and patting it. “Oh! We were just about to go out to get some food. You should come with us so we can get to know each other.”

Alex sighs, and when I look over he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. I’m not sure if he hates the idea of going out together or the fact that his mother wants to get to know me. Or both.

“I’m not sure. I ate on the way here…” If you count gas station snacks and a large Coke from McDonalds. But whatever.

Colleen looks at Alex. “Convince her to come, honey. She came all this way to see you. We both did.”

Did he know his mother was coming to visit? Or was both of our appearances a surprise to him? I’m tempted to ask, but I swallow the words.

Chickenshit, the inner voice taunts me.

I shut it down.

“There’s a decent place around the block,” Alex relents, rubbing the back of his neck. “They have pretty good stuff. Nothing fancy. Chicken tenders,” he adds, looking toward me. “And good breakfast. No mimosas, though.”

My lips twitch upward.

“Perfect,” Colleen answers, standing up. She looks at me expectantly. “You’re coming, right? I would love to know more about what you’re studying and how you and my son met. He doesn’t talk much about himself these days. I worry about him.”

“Mom,” Alex grumbles. “Enough.”

She shrugs it off, ignoring him. “He’s a little upset because I showed up without telling him.”

“That’s not it,” he cuts in, eyeing her. “I told you why I’m upset.”

Colleen waves him off. “Pat was a perfect gentleman. He didn’t want me to walk the whole way here. You should be thankful for good people like him.”

Walk? I’m so confused.

Alex drops his head back. “The point is, it could have been anyone who picked you up. People don’t hitchhike anymore unless they’re on drugs or stranded.”

Did Colleen hitchhike all the way from Lindon? That’s scarily impressive.

Before I can ask her if that’s true, she replies to Alex. “I was stranded. Or did you forget that you abandoned me there?”

Whoa. Discomfort settles into my stomach as I glance between them. “Maybe I should let you two talk.”

Colleen wraps her arm around mine and tugs me into her side.

“Nonsense, Olive. We’re going to get food.

I’m sure once Alex eats something he’ll be less cranky.

He was always like that when he was hungry, and it’s no wonder.

The only thing he has here is those disgusting nut bars and some milk that’s probably spoiled. ”

“It’s not spoiled,” he defends. “I got it a few days ago.”

Colleen pays him no attention. She gives me a quick once-over. “I can trust you to feed him though. I told him he’s far too skinny. I don’t like what they’re doing to him.”

Alex’s face turns red. “Christ. Really?”

I’m not offended by it. “My mom used to say you can never trust a skinny chef.”

Colleen nods. “Your mother sounds like a smart woman. Maybe we can plan a big group dinner sometime!”

Alex cusses under his breath. “Let’s go before you start planning a wedding too. That’s the last thing I need right now.”

The comment makes me flinch, but I manage to hide it as well as I can. But not before Alex sees, frowning as soon as he realizes what he said.

As we head out the door, he pulls me aside and quietly says, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

I shrug off his touch. “We should go. Your mom seems hungry.”

*

The family-owned restaurant is small and filled with the scents of coffee, homemade sauce, and something sweet. We get a booth in the back dining hall, away from the other customers who stopped what they were doing to watch Alex as we walked in.

One thing he’s always had is a presence. At Lindon, everyone knew he was in the room. He was like Moses parting the Red Sea at parties. If a room was packed, they’d make room for him. Girls. Guys. It didn’t matter.

That clearly hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s heightened now that he’s on TV screens at bars and homes everywhere. Especially since his injury. The news has stopped talking about it to focus on how preseason is going for teams, but his assault made headlines worldwide.

“Communication seems like a broad area of study,” Colleen remarks, sipping her water. “Is there anything you want to focus on? My Alex always knew what his path would be, but he still managed to narrow down his focus to Sports Management.”

I knew that. He figured if an NHL career didn’t work out for him, he could try for the minors or apply for coaching or management positions somewhere.

“I’m interested in Digital Journalism, but I’ve thought about Esports Journalism or even trying to get an in with magazines to do features.

That requires internships, though, and most of those are unpaid. ”

“I’m sure Alex could help you,” she says casually. “He speaks to reporters all the time. Right, honey? You have connections.”