A Tangle of Dreams by Nicole Adair

Author:Nicole Adair
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Validation Press LLC
Published: 2021-06-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

GEMMA

By the time I’ve finished harvesting a heaping pile of herbs for Grandma, I’m sweaty and covered in a sticky layer of dirt and mulch, my muscles aching in a satisfying way. Mom hums to herself as she directs the water flow to the next area of her garden, perfectly content to stay outside for the rest of the day. I lean against my shovel as I watch her. Normally, staying busy like this would keep my mind from spinning, but today not even the mechanical movements of shoveling dirt can stop me from thinking about Oliver. I try to stay grounded through deep breathing, but I still feel ready to take flight.

After she catches me checking my phone for the millionth time, Mom finally says, “Why don’t you go check on Ollie?”

The words are barely out of her mouth before I’m dropping my shovel and jogging between the garden rows and back to the house. “I’ll see you later,” I call over my shoulder.

Her hands rest on the handle of her shovel as she looks up at the sky with the hint of a smile. “Be careful.” Her whisper carries on the breeze as I yank the sliding door open.

“Milo!” I yell up the stairs. “Let’s go see Ollie!”

No answer. I don’t wait to hear if he’s coming.

I cross the street to the Cades’ house, pausing once my hand touches the door handle. Usually, I just walk right in, but after everything that happened today, that feels too intrusive. I raise my hand to rap my knuckles on the door, and then I stop, feeling stupid.

Matthew and Teresa are still Ollie’s family. I don’t need to be weird; I don’t need to act any differently. After squaring my shoulders, I throw the door wide open and call out, “Hello?”

A rush of cold air from the A/C has me shivering as I step inside their tidy entryway. My eyes land on the wall covered in photos of Ollie and his parents. I walk over and scan the pictures, smiling at the familiar memories. There’s Ollie grinning with a mouthful of missing teeth, proudly holding up a trout he caught when his dad took him fishing for the first time. I laugh when I see a photo of the awful year Ollie and Milo refused to get haircuts, their goofy long hair flopping ridiculously in their eyes as they smirk at the camera, both of them thirteen years old and totally insufferable.

My fingers trail along the frames until Teresa pokes her head out of the kitchen and offers me a small smile that doesn’t reach her tired eyes.

I drop my hand back to my side. “How’s Ollie doing?” I ask, glancing around for any sight of him.

She releases a shuddering breath and shakes her head, staring at the photo wall behind me. “He hasn’t come in the house. He hasn’t said a word.” Her voice breaks a little at the end, so I reach out and squeeze her hand.

“He’ll come around.

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