Page 67

“Read, Oliver. I won’t ask nicely again.”

Jamie starts with the colors Heather chose. Charcoal. Green. Two silver.

I turn to the first page.

Beside us, Elliot threads another bead onto a bracelet that will say Oliver.

Heather folds her legs beneath herself and looks at me expectantly.

I close the book. “No.”

“Hand.”

I open it again. “That seems unnecessary.”

“Hand, Oliver.”

“I’m complying.”

“You said no.”

I give her my right hand. She strikes the same place as before. Pain flares across my palm.

Heather keeps hold of my wrist. “You don’t have a no anymore.” She puts my hand back on the open book. “Read.”

I begin to read. The story is familiar enough that I don’t need to give it much attention, but Heather does.

Her hand moves around my neck until her thumb rests beneath my jaw and her fingers lie over my throat.

I stop reading.

“Keep going.”

The next sentence vibrates against her palm.

Jamie stops threading beads.

Without looking away from my mouth, Heather squeezes his thigh. “Keep working.”

He adds another green. He works without speaking until the beads cover almost half the cord.

Jamie threads the O.

I read another page.

The L follows.

Heather’s attention stays on me.

When Jamie reaches the V, I stop.

Heather waits.

I look down at the duckling on the open page, then at the partially completed name in Jamie’s hands.

“The metaphor is becoming somewhat aggressive.”

Jamie laughs. It changes his whole face. A chipped front tooth shows, and he immediately presses his lips together as though he can put the sound back.