6

“So you’re telling me that you actually enjoy that,” Ella said, pointing to the lines of calculus that took up most of the page in front of Olivia.

“What’s not to like?” Olivia asked, finishing up the last line of the calculation.

They were in the library, at the table that Olivia had started to think of hers, even though she occasionally had to sit elsewhere if other students got there before her.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ella replied sarcastically. “Maybe the fact that it’s math.”

Olivia grinned and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her yellow shirt. “Exactly. It’s math, and that means there’s only one correct answer. There’s no interpretation or subjectivity. Whoever marks my assignment won’t give me sixty percent because my introduction was too long or I didn’t give quite enough information in my second paragraph.” She rolled her eyes. “Or because I misinterpreted their very unclear and poorly phrased question.”

That had happened to her in her junior year, and she still resented her US History teacher for expecting students to respond to his very vague question in such a precise manner.

Ella hummed. “Okay, I see your point, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s still math.” She sighed. “And math is hard.”

Olivia sighed. “To me, it’s easy. It makes sense. You learn the rules, and you apply them. It’s simple.”

Sure, some questions were more challenging than others, but the rules never changed, and the questions were always straightforward. There was no interpretation needed. You couldn’t be subjective when it came to the science of numbers. There were no preferred answers. There was no possibility of picking favorites and marking students accordingly. There was a beauty in that, which Olivia was drawn to for obvious reasons.

Ella shook her head. “I guess our brains just work differently. I love that a book can be interpreted in more than one way. It makes things interesting.”

“I prefer certainty.” Olivia shrugged. “I’m either right or wrong. There’s no in-between or gray area. Plus, Riley was always better at subjects like English.”

Ella frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’d rather not have to compete with her if I can help it.” Olivia shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I’m better at math than she is, so I’d rather stick in my lane.”

Ella’s expression changed to that pitying one Olivia hated, so she tried to backtrack. She hadn’t thought about how pathetic she would sound before she brought her half-sister up, and now she regretted it.

“Not that I don’t love math. I do. It just so happens that it also allows me to escape Riley’s shadow.”

It had taken her at least two years to realize that her above-average marks in her English and Social Studies classes would never earn her the praise she’d been seeking from her mom. It had taken her another to realize that her top-of-the-class marks in her math classes wouldn’t get her the attention she’d desired either.

Not that her mother didn’t congratulate Olivia on her achievements. It was just that Riley’s achievements were always met with stronger reactions.

“Is your mom still singing Riley’s praises to everyone who’ll listen?” Ella asked with a sympathetic wince.

“Surprisingly not,” Olivia was forced to admit. “She’s toned it down a lot.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

Olivia shrugged, trying her best to appear unaffected. “Or maybe Riley and I no longer share any common hobbies or subjects, so she’s unable to do her usual segway from me to her preferred daughter.”

“Olivia—”

“With ballet off the table for me, it’s not like she can turn a conversation about my lessons into a conversation about the absolute perfection that is Riley.”

Ella cleared her throat aggressively, but Olivia was on a roll now.

“Because we all know that Riley is the most talented dancer in the world.”

Olivia’s words were loaded with sarcasm because although Riley had been good, Olivia, driven by her need to prove herself as superior in some way, had been better. Everyone knew it, except for her mother, of course.

“Uh, Olivia,” Ella said, her wide eyes finally getting Olivia’s attention.

Her gaze flicked up over Olivia’s shoulder, and Olivia slowly turned in her seat to find none other than her unfairly gorgeous lavender-haired half-sister standing behind her. She’d known Riley worked in the library and had seen glimpses of her there, but this had been the first time her half-sister had approached her table.

“Is there any chance you just arrived and didn’t hear anything I said?” Olivia asked with a sheepish smile.

Riley smiled back, and her expression was surprisingly warm and unoffended. “That would be a no.”

“Awkward,” Ella chirped, sounding far too amused.

Olivia groaned. “You know I wasn’t bashing you , right?”

Riley nodded and sat down in the seat next to her. “I know. Mom vastly overestimates my dancing abilities.”

It was still weird to hear Riley calling Edith that. She’d addressed their mom by her first name for the first month or so after moving in with them, and Olivia didn’t know what had caused the radical change in Riley’s previous icy demeanor toward their mother.

“It’s because she loves you,” Olivia said, unable to contain her eye-roll.

Riley hesitated before replying. “She loves you too, you know.”

“Just not in the same way she loves you.”

Her half-sister sighed. “I think she shows her love for us in very different ways.”

“So, she showers you with praise and hangs up more pictures of you on our living room wall, and what do I get?” Olivia asked.

Riley smiled sadly. “You got a mother who didn’t abandon you as a baby.”

Olivia swallowed. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“She’s not perfect,” Riley said. “I know she’s made mistakes with both of us, but I think she only gives me more praise and wall space because she wasn’t around for me in the same way she was for you.”

It made perfect sense when she spelled it out like that, but…“You’ll always be her favorite,” Olivia said.

“No,” Riley argued gently. “I’ll always be her biggest regret.”

Olivia flinched. It was true. Their mother’s biggest regret would always be that she’d left when Riley was just a baby. She’d never forgiven herself for it, even once Riley had softened toward her.

“I’m sorry that in trying to make up for her mistake, she made you feel like you weren’t as important,” Riley said.

Olivia didn’t know how she was meant to stay mad at her half-sibling for much longer when she said things like that.

“It’s not your fault,” she replied.

“I’m still sorry,” Riley said. She frowned and shot a furtive look over her shoulder.

“Riley?” Ella asked. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She cast a narrow-eyed glance over Ella’s shoulder next. “I better get back to work,” she said, standing up and pushing her chair back in. “The books won’t shelve themselves.”

“Uh, bye,” Olivia said, staring as Riley disappeared into the shelves. She turned back to face Ella. “That was weird.”

“Super weird,” Ella agreed, her eyes still narrowed in the direction Riley had gone. “I think I should go talk to her.”

“Oh, okay.” Olivia watched the other woman pack her things away in her book bag.

“My next lecture starts soon anyway,” Ella said, securing her bag on her shoulder. “So, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” Olivia said. “Sure.”

Ella left to find Riley, and Olivia shook her head. Something was off about that interaction, but hopefully, Ella could help Riley with whatever was bothering her.

She continued with her calculus assignment, her mind too focused on the problems in front of her to wonder more about Riley’s abrupt departure. She was so lost in her work that she almost didn’t notice when someone pulled out the chair Ella had been in and sat across from her.

Olivia’s eyes flew up when a textbook was placed on the table above her notepad. She blinked several times, her brain unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

“You do know that I’m here, right?” she asked.

The corner of Chris’s lips lifted in a barely-there smile. “I’m aware.”

“Yet you chose to sit there.”

“I did.” He took out another book from his backpack and started flipping through the pages.

Olivia’s mouth opened, but no words formed on her tongue. She stared as he found the page he wanted and began reading.

“Care to explain why?” she finally got out.

Chris lifted his eyes from the book and met her gaze. “I owe you an apology.”

Olivia’s eyebrows flew up. She’d expected Chris to calm down with the constant barbs after her rebuke two days earlier, but she hadn’t expected such a drastic turn-around.

“You were right,” Chris continued. “I don’t know how things went down that night, and I didn’t even try to put myself in your shoes.”

Olivia bit her bottom lip. She’d hoped he would lay off her a bit, but his apology was far more than she’d wanted from him. Guilt clawed at her chest. “It’s really okay,” she replied. “I don’t need an apology.”

Chris frowned, his brows drawing together. “I owe you one. I’ve been an absolute ass.”

Olivia’s lips curved up at that. “You have, but I don’t blame you.”

He sent her a disbelieving look. “That’s not how it sounded the other day.”

She winced. “I was having a bad day and took it out on you.”

“Seems like we both have that tendency,” Chris replied with a chuckle.

Olivia nodded slowly, still feeling off-balance having him willingly sitting across from her. “So, you’re sitting here because, what? You want to be friends again?” she asked, regretting the question almost immediately and how it might have revealed how much she’d missed him.

Chris had been leaning his forearms on the table, but he drew back at her question, leaning back in the chair and looking incredibly uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Look, I don’t think things will ever go back to how they used to be.”

Olivia’s cheeks reddened, burning as though she’d been slapped. His words shot straight to the ever-present ache in her chest, spreading it further. “Of course,” she was quick to say.

“But I’ll try to be civil from now on for Noah’s sake,” he said, increasing the pain further.

Of course, he was doing this all for his friend’s sake. He only wanted to make sure his friendship wasn’t affected any more than it already had been by his attitude toward Olivia. He still wanted as little to do with her as possible, and she shouldn’t have been surprised by that. That voice in her head would never let her forget that she deserved his ire.

“Ella told me things have been tense between you two,” Olivia said. “I’m sorry.”

Chris nodded. “Hopefully, things will get back to normal when he sees I’m not biting your head off anymore.”

Olivia forced a smile. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”

She’d already spoken to her brother a handful of times, trying to convince him that Chris shouldn’t be punished for his treatment of her. Those talks hadn’t gone well, but after hearing his friend had apologized, Olivia hoped Noah would forgive him and move past it. She was sure Brady, Ella, Asher, and Riley were sick and tired of the tension between the two men.

Chris’s answering smile was amused. “Thanks,” he said before his gaze lowered back to his textbook.

Olivia swallowed her disappointment and tried to focus on her assignment. She’d been foolish and na?ve to think his sitting across from her was a sign that things could return to normal. She’d still been in the car that killed his brother. No amount of time would change that fact.

She made more than one mistake in the next half an hour, Chris’s presence distracting enough that she had to scratch out an entire page’s worth of work. She was about to give up and leave early for her last lecture of the day when more broad-shouldered football players descended on her table.

“Hey, Olivia,” Brady said, pulling her attention from her messy work. His concerned eyes bounced between her and Chris. “You good?”

She nodded. “Yeah, just finishing up a calculus assignment,” she replied, purposefully misunderstanding his question. Her gaze moved to the three football players standing behind him. She recognized them as the ones Chris had been sitting with the day the two women had confronted her. Two of them had been in the same year as Drew, but the other one—Tyler—was a senior. They were all looking between her and Chris with the same confused frowns.

“Mind if we join you?” Brady asked, recapturing her attention.

Olivia blinked. “Um, of course,” she replied.

Brady lifted an amused eyebrow, and Olivia realized what she’d said.

“I mean, no, I don’t mind,” she corrected, her cheeks aflame. “Sorry.”

Brady grinned and took the seat beside hers. “You’re too cute, Baby Warner.”

Olivia rolled her eyes at the name Brady had given her when they’d first met. She was only three years younger than Brady and her brother.

She turned her head back to center, and her gaze fell on Chris, her mood falling again when she saw the glare he was sending Brady’s way. He may have apologized, but she wondered if he would ever think she deserved kindness from others.

Tyler and the other two football players took the rest of the seats at the table. Olivia found herself between Brady’s huge body and the smaller but no less intimidating frame of Tyler, who’d sat at the head of the table. She gulped and subtly shifted closer to Brady.

If he noticed the move, he didn’t show it, his attention firmly fixed across the table. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he said to Chris.

Chris crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “I come to the library all the time,” he replied.

The muscle in Brady’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t been talking about the library. Everyone at the table knew it, Chris included.

Olivia cleared her throat. “I should actually get going. I have a class soon.”

She picked up her backpack and packed her assignment and calculus textbook away, too aware of all the eyes on her as she pushed her chair back and stood. In a move that now felt stupid rather than brave, she’d worn shorts, and the scar running down her leg was now visible to everyone.

Nervous about his reaction, Olivia snuck a look at Chris. He was staring at the scar, but his expression was unreadable.

Brady stood up and helped her with her crutches. “I’ll walk you.”

Olivia nearly argued, but she couldn’t deny Brady that. He’d been a good friend to her. “Thanks.”

She looked at Chris, swallowing when she met his brown-eyed stare. “I’ll see you guys around,” she said, addressing the whole table.

None of them replied, not even Chris, but she felt their eyes on her back as she and Brady left the library.

“Was he bothering you?” Brady asked once they were in the elevator.

Olivia could have managed the stairs. She’d done it before, but getting down from the third floor of the Lauinger Library took her some time with crutches. She was glad Brady didn’t have to make that slow journey with her.

“Not at all,” she replied. “He apologized to me.”

Brady’s eyes widened. “What?”

Olivia shrugged. “He said he’ll try to be civil from now on.”

Brady scoffed. “There’s a big difference between being civil and being nice.”

“I know, but I wouldn’t expect that from him.”

“You should,” he insisted. “After ev—”

“Brady,” she said, leaning on her left crutch so she could place her right hand on his tensed arm.

Her hand looked laughably minuscule in comparison, and her skin looked deathly pale against his dark skin. They were a study in contrasts. One of them large and strong, and the other pathetically small and feeble. Yet Olivia felt safer with Brady than she did with almost anyone else.

“He lost his brother,” she reminded him. “Give him a break. For me.” She added the last two words, knowing they would make him cave.

Brady sighed as the elevator doors opened. “Fine. I’ll stop giving him grief.”

Olivia smiled.

“But only because he apologized to you,” he added as they exited the building into the too-bright September sunshine.

“You’re a good one, Brady,” she told him.

“So are you.”

Olivia’s lips pressed together.

Brady stopped her by placing just the tips of his fingers on her forearm. “I know you don’t believe me,” he said, his eyes sad as he looked down at her. “But it’s true.”

Her throat tightened, but she nodded in false agreement. On some days, like when she’d lashed out at Chris, she could believe him. But on days like this, she and that voice in her head thought he couldn’t be more wrong.