Page 24 of The Shift Between Us (Covewood #2)

“Please don’t,” she says before taking a bite of her pasta, her hazel eyes giving him a silent warning.

“What about you, Luke?” my grandmother asks, eyeing us cautiously as she takes a sip of her water. I wonder then if she knows we’re faking. If she can see right through us.

“I just sort of knew one day that I loved her. It started with the little things. The way she scrunches her nose when she laughs, or how she dances while she’s baking, or how she’s always finding a way to take care of those around her. It’s always been there; it just took me a while to act on it.”

As the words leave me, truths hiding within them, it feels like a weight is lifted off my shoulders. It’s a truth that I once kept burrowed deep in my soul, and now I’ve let it free. Everyone at the table sighs—everyone but Olivia, who stiffens under my arm as her wide eyes blink up at me.

How can something as delicate as the truth be so dangerous? Did I cross the line?

“Yeah, it was just the fringe for me,” Olivia says, laughter filling the room again. “But I’ve always known I loved him too.”

She leans closer into my shoulder, giving my chest a pat, a sigh releasing from her as she does. I’ve wanted to hear those words for so long, and when it finally happens, it’s all for show. We’ve told each other we love each other a few times over the years but in a friendship sort of way.

Not like this.

During the rest of dinner, Jerrica and Olivia seem to have hit it off, leaving me to catch up with the rest of my family.

I fill them in on things going on in Covewood, how work has been, and updates on Mom.

Once our plates are clear and we’re all complaining of full bellies, Olivia and I stand up together to make our way into the kitchen to help with the dishes.

I slip my hand into hers, loving how soft her palm feels against mine, not missing how my heart does one of those fluttering things where it takes your breath away.

She usually only holds my hand or gives me a hug for no longer than three seconds.

Always super quick. Sometimes I even catch her counting softly to herself, but I never say anything.

I like having an excuse to touch her longer, to treat her as mine. I’ll happily settle for whatever little increments she’ll give to me. It would probably be better for my sanity that way too.

I want to prove to myself that I could be worthy of her. I’m not the same person that I was when I was eighteen and messed everything up between us. I’ve slowly been working on becoming the best version of myself that I can be.

Which is someone Olivia deserves.

If I can walk away from this weekend, leaving the past and all the hurt behind me, then maybe I can move forward and chase after what would truly make me happy.

I’ve spent so long locking the door on my feelings for Olivia, but this feels like the door is cracking open for us, even if she has friend-zoned me and might not even harbor romantic feelings for me.

The thought alone scares the crap out of me, but she’s worth the risk.

I stare at her, trying to sort through all these strange feelings.

She looks back at me, reaching into the sink to start washing dishes, her cheeks blooming beneath my gaze.

With the way her brows pierce together, I wonder if I’m looking at her in a different way.

Even if I am, I don’t care to hide it anymore.

I continue to stare, not able to look away from her.

It sends a wave of warmth coursing through me.

We don’t break eye contact for a long moment, making the warmth rise up to a temperature I’m sure will have me combusting.

She opens her mouth to say something right as Nonni, Aunt Andy, Dani, and Jerrica all shuffle into the kitchen, their loud voices booming around us.

They’re deep into a debate about which Christmas movie they want to watch this evening while Olivia and I peel our eyes away from each other, her quietly scrubbing away on each dish, and me drying and placing them on the rack.

As Olivia hands me the last dish, I purposely link our fingers together.

Her face twists up toward mine, and I wonder if she can feel the same spark that runs up the length of my arm and down my spine.

How I can feel her touch everywhere, the actual spot where her fingers are pressed against mine but also how I can feel it in the pit of my stomach, the backs of my knees, the heat building inside my stomach.

I feel Olivia everywhere, in all the ways I never thought I would be allowed.

I say softly, “Thank you for volunteering to help with the dishes.”

She stays silent, holding in a breath, her eyes dancing with mine. I wonder if she can read the truth in them, sense it in the way my pulse is pounding against her fingers that are still grazing mine.

“You two are the cutest!” Aunt Andy practically shouts, clapping her hands together, and it’s enough to break whatever trance Olivia was in.

She blinks a few times, looking over toward her, her lips quivering into an awkward smile. “Thanks.”

“Oh, I’m smitten to see my little Lukie Bear so happy.” Nonni moves toward me, grabs my cheeks, and pinches them—hard—while shaking my face.

“Lukie Bear?” Olivia smirks, and my best friend is back.

“Only my Nonni gets to call me that.” I point a finger at her before she playfully swats it away.

“Not a chance, Lukie Bear.”

I chuckle, shaking my head, before I turn to face my family.

“I’m going to skip out on the movie tonight, if that’s okay. I’m beat and ready for bed,” I announce before peering down at Olivia and asking, “Are you ready to call it a night?”

Her eyes scan each person in the kitchen before she looks back at me, lifting one shoulder in a shrug that makes the soft cashmere of her sweater slip over her collarbone. It takes everything in me not to look at the bare skin there.

“Don’t steal our girl away just yet. I have something for Olivia. Luke had mentioned you’re a baker?” Nonni asks.

I wait for her to let me know if she needs an escape, but she surprises me when she says, “It’s okay. I’ll stay for a bit. ”

I take this as an opportunity to give her some space but not before I lean in and plant my lips to the top of her head. “Have fun,” I add softly, enjoying how she’s trying to hide her shock, before I back away and give my family a wave. “Goodnight.”

As I make my way down the hallway and into the bedroom, the weight that had been lifted hours ago returns.

I turn to close the door behind me and lean my forehead against the cool surface.

My emotions are giving me whiplash from today’s events.

One minute, I’m stressed about being around my father, and the next, I’m having to fake a relationship with Olivia.

I let out a slow exhale, noticing a nagging pull within my heart, nudging me to walk over to the bed and pray. I listen to the feeling, getting onto my knees, bowing my head, my hands squeezing tightly together, as I gather my thoughts.

“Hey, God. It’s me. I mean, you know who it is, I’m sure.

I just, uh…” I clear my throat, hating that it’s awkward talking to the one person who knows me better than anyone ever could.

I know I can be my true authentic self with God, and yet I’m feeling my nerves build up as I continue.

“I’ve been avoiding asking for your help for years now, and I understand that it’s all because of my pride, but clearly you want me to be here this weekend.

I feel it in my core that I’m supposed to interact with my father and?—”

I clear my throat again, pausing to collect my thoughts, sucking in a breath and exhaling slowly.

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to forgive him, because forgiving him means that he gets away with all the pain he’s caused. But I know it’s not my place to hang on to this, that I’m supposed to find forgiveness in my heart. I can’t do this on my own.”

I hate the way my voice shakes and the fact that I’m having to ask for help. I know that sounds awful, but asking for help is something I’ve always struggled with—even if it’s God’s. However, if I’m going to make it through this weekend, I’ll need His help .

“So please, I’m asking you to help me. Help me do whatever is in your will. Take over my words, my actions, my feelings. Whatever you have to do to get me through this, please do it.”

I force myself to face the dark part of myself, the pieces of my soul that have scars.

Scars that never healed but were only patched.

The part of myself that’s still raw and trying not to feel or get too close to that pain again.

I’m not ready to expose those ugly parts of myself, but I don’t have another option.

“If I can do this, God…if I can forgive my dad, I pray that Olivia will be able to forgive me.”