Page 46 of The Shift Between Us (Covewood #2)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Olivia

I look at the time on my phone and see that it’s been two hours since Luke went to talk with Davis.

I’ve had to fight with myself several times not to go find him and make sure that everything is okay.

I’ve tried to distract myself by helping Luke’s grandmother clean the kitchen, wrapping a few gifts with Aunt Andy, and then I retreated into the bedroom.

I’ve called my mom, and then Raine, and I tried to call Zane, but he never answered. The suspense is starting to get to me. I’ve never been good at waiting. Luke is out there, facing the man who hurt him so deeply, and I’m stuck in here alone, not able to be there for him.

I want to be supportive and patient, but my stomach twists in anxious knots anyway.

Every minute that passes only chips away at my composure, exposing something raw and tender.

I press a palm to my chest, grounding myself by the steady beat of my own heart, before I reach for my phone again and move my thumb across its screen to hit the green button under Wren’s name .

It rings three times until she answers. The screen is blurry for a few seconds before her face comes into view.

“What are you doing?” I ask suspiciously.

She crinkles her nose, a dead giveaway that she’s up to something, before she smiles at me. “Hey, little sister.” She presses the phone closer to her face.

I raise a brow and frown. “Wren, did you destroy my house?”

“What? No. How dare you think so little of me.”

“Did you forget that I saw the state of your room growing up? It always looked like you lost a game of Jumanji.”

She rolls her eyes and moves the phone away from her face so that I can see my kitchen behind her. “Calm down. Your house is fine.”

“Telling me to calm down works about as well as baptizing a cat.” I squint my eyes, seeing two other people in the room with her. “Why are Edna and Zane there?”

“Hey, Olivia.” Zane gives me a wave.

I wave back, my face contorting with suspicion. I inspect the house—what little I can see from the screen, anyway—and everything seems to be in place. I’m about to tell her to spin me around so I can inspect the other rooms when she interrupts me.

“So…don’t be upset.” Wren brings her face back into view.

My nostrils flare. “You saying that already has me upset. What did you do?”

“Nothing bad. There are three things. The first thing is that Zane, Edna, and I might have finished off the rest of your sourdough bread.”

“I had four loaves, and I’ve only been gone for a few days!” I exclaim, squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head in disappointment. One of those loaves was supposed to be picked up by my mom, but it seems it never made it to her.

“I can’t help it that you bake the most delicious bread. It’s like cocaine to me.” Wren gives me an apologetic smile. “I mean, at least I’m not actually addicted to cocaine.”

“Who needs cocaine when human emotions mess you up just the same,” I hear Edna add in the background, earning a loud cackle from Zane.

I don’t think I have the mental capacity to deal with these three right now.

I wanted a distraction to pull me away from my already stressful thoughts, not another reason to add to my stress.

I make a mental note to get Wren to help me with a whole day of baking.

Then she’ll understand all the work that goes into my job.

“Go ahead and tell me the other two things, please,” I demand.

“Well, I've been able to get Buttercream to love me.”

“And he likes me too,” Zane adds, squishing his face into the camera so I can see him holding up my fluffy orange-and-white cat, who’s wearing a little tiny Santa hat on his head.

“Don’t worry. He still hates me,” Edna adds as she walks by Zane, Buttercream giving her a hiss once he sees her. I press my lips together to hide a laugh.

“Why is it a bad thing that Buttercream likes you?” I ask.

“I thought you’d be jealous since he doesn’t like you.” Wren shrugs her shoulders and takes Buttercream—who, might I add, I can audibly hear purring—into her arms. I mean, I am a tiny bit jealous, but it also gives me hope that maybe he and I can make some progress too.

“He doesn’t not like me,” I add, wishing I could smack the smirk off Zane’s face. “Why is my cat wearing a Santa hat?”

“Oh, that’s the best part. We’re giving Buttercream a photoshoot,” Zane exclaims, lifting up a small gingerbread costume into view. “We started him his own Instagram. Or is it called Catagram?”

I’m no longer jealous of Buttercream’s love for them, because I know once they start dressing him up and making him pose for photos, he’s going to dislike them again.

Maybe it’ll help him realize how blessed he is to have me as his caretaker.

I would never do this to him. Okay, maybe the little Santa hat is adorable, but that’s where I would draw the line.

“How did this even happen?” I ask.

Zane presses his face back into view and answers, “Well, I ran into Wren yesterday at Tractor Supply while I was getting some puppy food. Oh, by the way, I’m getting a golden retriever puppy.

Wren was getting some cat food, and so we struck up a conversation and ended up going to that new pet boutique across town to buy some of their pet supplies, and we saw these costumes.

One thing led to another, and here we are, dressing up your cat. ”

I shake my head, biting my lip to keep from smiling, because I shouldn’t show them approval for this crazy idea. I do love seeing the smile on Wren's face, the carefree laugh I hear from Zane, and I know I can’t be upset with them.

“Are you two…” I start to question but stop myself, letting them blink at me for a moment before what I’m implying hits them.

“Ew, no!” Zane shouts, and Wren gives him a slap on the arm. Somewhere in the background, I hear Edna cackle. “Ow!” Zane whines.

“What do you mean, ew ?” Wren yells at him.

“I just meant ew, as in you remind me too much of Olivia. I couldn’t date you because I couldn’t date her.”

“Oh, this is interesting,” Edna chimes in, popping into the screen again. She wiggles her gray brows at me before winking and returning her attention to Zane and Wren.

“Well, I wouldn’t date you either. You’re way too young for me.” She sticks her tongue at him.

“Well, so much for that idea,” I say, right as Edna says, “Dating a younger guy never bothers me.”

I hear Zane yelp. “You grabbed my?—”

“Things are getting out of hand over there,” I laugh.

“Yeah, I better try to get Edna to go home. She’s been over here most of the day, and she’s starting to get frisky,” Wren whispers into the phone. “I’ll send you the photos of Buttercream later. Also, I might have broken your dishwasher. Okay, love you. Bye.”

She hangs up, and before I can react to what she just said, Luke finally walks into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

I shoot up from the bed to rush around it until I can stand in front of him.

The rims of his eyes are red, his cheeks are flushed, and his expression is vulnerable, looking very much like the little boy I met when we were thirteen years old.

There are a few feet separating us, and we both stand in complete silence for a moment…me waiting for him to say something—anything, really—and him searching for something written on my face that I’m unsure of. I want to close the distance between us, but I don’t know what he needs in this moment.

“Luke, is everything okay?” I ask, clasping my hands together, watching as the sad little boy I saw moments before vanishes and is replaced with the joyful, fake-but-maybe-not-so-fake boyfriend I met over the weekend.

Luke rushes toward me suddenly, weaving his fingers through my hair, and I completely melt into him.

He places a hand onto my hip to steady me before he replies, “Everything is perfect,” then he kisses me.

The press of his lips speaks louder than words ever could.

This kiss is fifteen years of promises, thank yous, I want yous, and I love yous that were never said.

What started out slow turns into something powerful.

This kiss feels like lighting a match and watching something go up in flames.

Luke’s fingers slide under the hem of my sweater, and the heat of his skin touching mine causes me to sigh against Luke’s mouth.

He takes full advantage, kissing me harder, until we’re both gasping for air.

There is a piercing ping sound, and then another, that takes me longer than I’d like to admit to recognize as my phone.

I try to ignore it as Luke’s lips leave a trail along my jawline, making me giggle and squirm as he lands on the crook of my neck.

He moves his free hand up my arm until it reaches my shoulder where he moves my sweater out of the way so he can let his lips touch my collarbone and slide across the sensitive skin there, as if he’s memorizing how it feels.

Then another ping fills the room, and we both freeze at the sound.

I want to groan in a complaint and chuck my phone out the window.

Because how dare whoever is sending me messages distract us from this incredible moment.

Luke exhales, his hot breath hitting the skin along my collarbone and chest before he releases the hold he had on my sweater, letting it go back into place as he moves his face away.

“I’m sorr—” I whisper, but he stops me with a kiss. This one is gentle and short but leaves me breathless all the same.

“I probably need to stop now, or I never will,” he says, his voice gravelly.

I nod, my brain understanding, but my heart and body are screaming for him to continue.

I tell my hormones to calm down as I inhale a breath of air and take a step away from his grasp.

Space is smart for now, especially since he still hasn’t told me what happened between Davis and him.

Or what has him strolling into our room and kissing me like that.

“Nice pajamas.” He chuckles as he looks down at my outfit. “I’ve not seen these.”

He reaches out, his index finger and thumb squeezing against the soft cotton fabric that is covered in little mixing bowls, whisks, and different gingerbread cookies. I smile down at them before looking back at him as I go to say something, but my phone pings again.

I huff in frustration and walk over to my spot on the bed and grab my phone.

I bring the screen to life, and a loud chuckle escapes me when I see the row of text messages from Wren with photos of Buttercream in his ridiculous costumes.

I glance over at Luke and wave him over to the bed before I jump onto its cozy surface .

“Hang on, I’m going to get ready for bed,” he says before grabbing his things and making his way into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, I have busied myself with saving all of Buttercream's photos, placing one as my phone’s background, and checking out the so-called ‘Catagram’ they created for him.

When Luke opens the bathroom door, a puff of steam trails behind him, and I’m so distracted by how much I love seeing him with wet hair that I almost miss the pajamas he’s changed into.

Another laugh vibrates through me as I take in the full-body Grinch onesie he’s wearing. He tugs on the hood, which has the Grinch’s face on it, and on his chest is a little picture of the Grinch’s heart. He looks absolutely adorable.

“Since you always call me Grinch, I figured I might as well dress the part,” he adds with a spin, showing me the full view.

I bite my lip to keep from smiling so much, but my cheeks are already sore as I lift my phone to show him the photo I chose as my lock screen of Buttercream dressed in his own Grinch outfit. “Like father, like son.”

The smile on Luke’s face is brilliant. He strides over to the bed, slides in next to me, and takes my phone from my hands to study the image. I relish in the deep, shaking-all-over type of laugh that escapes him.

“Why is our cat dressed up as the Grinch?” he asks, handing my phone back to me.

I take it and open up the text thread from Wren and hand the phone back to him, watching as his eyes widen with amusement as he scrolls through the photos. He smiles—the wide, toothy kind. He looks so at ease, like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he’s finally feeling content.

He turns to look over at me. “Now it’s my turn to ask what that look is for?”

I want to tell him that he keeps showing me pieces of himself that I want to collect like the pink and red Starbursts he brings me each day. That ever since we kissed, I can’t stop thinking about it.

Instead, I ask, “How did things go with your dad?”

He holds my gaze for so long, his body tense, that I think he’s not going to respond. He surprises me with another wide smile, “Honestly, it went better than I expected.”

I push myself into a seated position and motion for him to do the same, much like we used to do when we were kids.

I listen intently as he starts explaining his conversation with his grandmother and how that gave him a renewed perspective before approaching his dad.

He tells me how God worked on his heart, and because of it, he was able to forgive Davis.

And how after everything, he was able to lead his father into salvation.

I’m wiping tears away, surprised at the emotions filling my heart as he tells me everything. I’m so proud of Luke. I lean over and give him a watery peck on the lips before pulling away and allowing him to wipe a few fresh tears from my cheeks.

“We sat and talked for an hour after that. He told me a little bit about growing up in this house, about what led him to his poor choices. Then he gave me some valuable information about some of his old buddies that Rick will be thankful to have. We might be able to put those guys in jail for good.”

“You’re amazing. You know that, right?” I give him a toothy smile of my own.

The corners of his mouth tip up. “I could say the same thing about you.”

He pulls me in for a hug, his arms wrapping around me, and he places his chin on top of my head. I lean into him, enjoying how he feels even more solid than he looks, and welcome another all-consuming and perfect kiss. As we pull away, both of us sharing a goofy grin, he kisses me on the forehead.

“Now, want to explain to me why your sister dressed up our cat?” he asks, and I burst into another fit of laughter.