31. Olivia

Olivia cuddled Henrietta and showed her the new chickie fountain. It was an elaborate fake-stone fountain with gently flowing water. "This is your new bath. You're going to love it."

Dawson had just turned it on, and some of the other hens ambled over to check it out. They'd spent the afternoon playing with the chickens and goats and making a ridiculous amount of photos and videos. It was exactly what she'd needed, and now that she'd had time away from her intrusive thoughts, all of Dawson's advice hit home.

Letting Henrietta investigate the new playground equipment, Olivia brushed her hands off on her jeans and met Dawson by the feed shed where he'd been watching her play with the hens.

They'd both laughed more over the last few hours, and the appointment from earlier seemed like a lifetime ago. The shadows and dread weren't hanging over them anymore.

She slid her arms around his waist and tilted her head up to look at him. His arm wrapped around her, and the intensity in his eyes raked over her like a warm touch.

She took a deep breath and said, matter-of-factly, "I love you. I thought I couldn't love you more, but I was wrong. You're teaching me things I didn't know I needed to learn."

Dawson chuckled. "Not exactly what I was going for, but I'll take it."

"I'm serious. You're right about the way I've been looking at this whole thing. I was being selfish, and I wasn't trusting God. If I was, I would have gone to others for help. I would have put my fate in God's hands and trusted Him. You made me see that."

His strong hands cradled her face as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her eyes drifted closed, and she cataloged the moment.

"You're a wise woman. You would have figured it out on your own eventually."

Olivia shrugged. "Maybe, but I wasn't even close. It's so freeing to tell you about it."

"Feel free to share other things. You know, if you've secretly thought about our wedding or where we'll go on our honeymoon."

She laughed and pressed her forehead to his chest. "I may have thought about those things."

"Really? You think we'll spend a couple of weeks on a beach in the Pacific or cruising the Mediterranean?"

"Hmm. What about the French countryside or a tour of Spain?"

Dawson hummed deep in his chest. "Sounds perfect."

Pressing her eyes closed, Olivia tried not to read too much into how easily they'd slid into the conversation of marriage. Dawson had already hinted that he hoped their relationship would end in marriage.

Not end. Begin. It would only be the beginning. They hadn't even scratched the surface of the life waiting before them.

Olivia tilted her head up, propping her chin on his chest. "Though, I wouldn't say no to the beach."

"You just want to see me shirtless," Dawson said, pecking a small kiss on her forehead.

"Not gonna lie. That would be a selling point."

It was all just a fantasy, wasn't it? They'd barely begun to truly date, and Dawson would have them married by the end of the year.

He hadn't even asked her to marry him, but he talked about their future as if it were already decided. As far as she was concerned, it was.

"Are you thinking winter or summer?" he asked.

"For what?"

"Our wedding. Isn't that what we're talking about?"

Laughter bubbled out of Olivia's chest as she stepped back, pushing playfully against his chest. "Stop it. You're getting ahead of yourself."

Dawson pursued her and reached out for her hand as her footsteps quickened. When he missed her again, he picked up his pace.

"Then let's iron out the details over dinner. I'm starving."

Her feet barely touched the ground as she dodged his advance. She faked to the right before darting left, but he anticipated the move and folded her into his capturing arms.

Her high-pitched laugh split the air as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and kissed along the sensitive skin. She opened her eyes just as Anna walked around the side of the feed shed.

A hard kick hit Olivia in the chest as she scrambled out of Dawson's grasp. What felt like a ten-ton weight fell in her gut.

The look on Anna's face said she wasn't faring any better. Her blonde hair was twisted back in a tight bun, and she wore a navy suit jacket and matching pencil skirt above nude heels.

"Anna, I–I thought you were still in Casper."

Anna didn't move. Her mouth didn't even open as she stared at Olivia.

No, not like this. Anna wasn't supposed to find out this way. Olivia and Dawson had spent a good portion of the afternoon going over what they would say to Anna when she got back in town.

Those plans had all been carefully-crafted words. Anna wasn't meant to see one of the private moments that had become the only times when they could be themselves.

Anna wasn't meant to see them so happy and in love.

Dawson took a step toward Anna, holding out a hand as if approaching a wild animal. "Anna, can we talk?"

His words seemed to spark the life back into Anna, breaking her stare from Olivia. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

There wasn't any bite in her words, but they held so much hurt–hurt Anna was trying so desperately to disguise. She took a quick step back, then another before repeating, "I'm sorry."

"Anna, please." Olivia was begging, but she didn't care. She'd crawl on her knees if Anna would stay.

Holding up a hand, Anna ducked her chin. "I'm sorry." Then, she turned and ran back through the yard toward her car.

"Anna, stop!" Olivia broke into a sprint as she chased Anna, who could run in heels better than most women could run in sneakers.

Olivia caught up to Anna as she reached her car and opened the door. Grabbing it, Olivia held it open as she gasped for breath. "Please… wait," she panted.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry," Anna fired off the apologies and regrets faster than punches in a mixed martial arts match.

"Stop apologizing. I'm the one who needs to apologize. Please let me explain."

Anna grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and stared out the windshield. Her chest heaved with deep swells with hiccups at the beginning of every inhale. "I need to go."

There was no emotion in that robotic voice. No humanity or care or anger.

There was nothing behind the words, but they cut Olivia's heart wide open. She'd been properly gutted and fried in the fire before Anna looked up at her.

"I need to go," she repeated.

"Anna, please. Please just talk to me."

"Get out of the way."

The demand left no room for negotiation, and the stab in Anna's words had Olivia stepping back.

Olivia covered her burning face with her hands as Anna slammed the door and backed up, slinging gravel as she peeled out of the driveway.