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She loves crop tops and skirts. There’s an entire rack of pastel-colored skirts. I remember the blush that would creep on her cheeks any time I would buy her anything.
She doesn’t want you, dude. Stop thinking about her.
“Ollie,” Casey snaps, which brings my attention to them. “You’re gonna bruise our hot-girl egos by not paying attention.”
Casey is going for more of a biker look, and Piper seems to be going for a prep look, maybe. She has a jean skirt and a white button-up blouse.
“Sorry, ladies.” I give my best smile, but Casey continues to frown at me. “You both look great.”
“No one’s forcing you to be here, Ollie,” Piper brings up.
“I know.” I try again to smile. “I want to hang out with you guys. It’s just been a rough week already.”
Piper and Casey exchange a look before plopping down on both sides of me on the couch.
Casey speaks first. “Unfortunately, it’s only halfway through the week.”
“That sounds like the kind of negativity I don’t need,” I quip back with a sarcastic smirk.
Piper is about to chime in when my phone rings and I see the same unknown number that says it’s my mom.
“Gotta take this.” I don’t wait for their replies before walking out of the store and accepting the call. “Can I help?—”
“Oliver.” My heart stills.
She sounds the same as she did ten years ago despite the edge that coats my name. I hear her calling my name, saying dinner is ready or to stop tracking mud into the shack.
“How did you get my number?” I didn’t have a phone when she left.
A defeated sigh comes through the line. “Your father gave me your info.”
That causes a laugh to come out. So, he had the time to tell my mom about me but didn’t have time to call at all. He really doesn’t care anymore. I’m not his legal issue anymore.
I’m not her issue anymore, either.
“How are you?” She can’t be asking me that after ten years of silence. I don’t even think I got a card from her. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”
“Oh, really,” I bite out.
“Oliver, I’m sorry,” she says with genuine regret.
“Why are you calling now?” I say a bit too loudly as an older lady gives me a glare. I fight the urge to glare back, but I make my way over to my Jeep and get in.
Silence rolls over the conversation. “I wanted to see if you were open to meeting.”
“You’re in Alliance?” I ask, my voice strained with accusation. After all this time, she’s here.
“Actually, I’m in Lansing.”
Another laugh comes out. This one tastes of acid. She wants me to make the effort to see her after ten years, and she can’t even come here.
“I know it’s asking a lot, but there’s someone I want you to meet,” Mom says quickly because she can probably tell I’m a second from hanging up on her.
“I’m not meeting a new boyfriend?—”
“I want you to meet your brother.”
My what?
