He shrugs. “I havenoidea.”
“There are some old photo albums in the spare study,” Dylan says, releasing me. “She might have found one there.”
I exhale slowly, desperate to not lose my shit. “Perfect. So, you pissed her off, and then she went and rummaged through your shit to cool off. That’s fucking amazing, Brock.”
“Killian—” Dylan tries, but I continue to lay into him.
“You shouldn’t have let Hannah go in the first place,” I add, then turn to Dylan. “Both of you.” Hurt flashes across my best friend’s face, but I don’t care. “That wasn’t the place for her, and you refused to listen to any of the fucking rumors about what was really happening there. And I lied for both of you. And now she fuckinghatesus.”
Brock swallows. “I didn’t think—”
“No, youdidn’t,” I snarl. “Olive’s a dreamer, and she’s fucking brilliant. But you just shut down her ideas without listening, because you don’t know how to fucking have a conversation like anormalperson.”
Which I realize is rich, coming from me. I’m the least normal motherfucker on this planet.
But at least I respect Olive.
“You thought you knew what was best for her since day one. But she’s not a fucking computer you can program.”
The silence is thick between us until Dylan clears his throat.
“So, she’s…there…now?” He asks timidly. His heart is broken; I can see it all over his face.
But this is his fault, too.
“Yes,” I hiss. “And she vouched for us, saying that she broke in here and we were about to turn her in, so we wouldn’t get fuckingarrested. She covered our asses even after we betrayed her.” My voice cracks, shame coursing through me.
Dylan swallows nervously, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck!” He growls, pacing. “There’s got to be a way to fix this. We have to get her back.”
“It’s not that easy,” Brock murmurs. “She’s gone.”
His spiraling isn’t helping one bit.
I’m full of self-loathing, frustrated that I kept the secret about Hannah from her.
I should have just told her the truth, and maybe this wouldn’t have happened.
And Brock’s shitty attitude isn’t helping anything.
“You’re the smart one,” I hurl at him. “We have to figure outsomething. Anything.”
He scoffs and shakes his head. “Like what?”
“Anything.” I snarl.
She may never forgive us, but she can’t staythere.
“All she ever wanted was to be free of this,” Dylan says quietly. “And look what’s happened.”
Brock winces.
“We need to get her thefuckout ofEden,” I continue. “Let her hate us forever. I don’t care. If her freedom is the last thing she’ll fucking take from us, I’ll die happy.”
I won’t, truthfully. But being there…
It’ll crush her fucking soul.
Just like I’m sure it did Hannah’s.
“Between all three of us, we can figure out something,” Dylan says softly.
Brock nods his head in agreement, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Maybe we can do this,” he murmurs.
Olive always had hope.
Now it’s our turn to have it for her.