Page 174 of Jaded

“Nope, no way.”

Olli starts walking. Fast. “Yes. Yes way. Guitar or I don’t show.”

“Wait.” I hurry to catch him. “You actually want to hang out with me and Syd?”

He pauses at the row of doors, and I can’t read the expression in his round eyes, his straight mouth. “Well, am I or am I not your boyfriend?”

“Oh. Right.” The smile builds around the corners of my mouth. “Yeah, I guess that means you have to do shit like that now, huh?”

“Exactly.” He angles a finger gun at me. Winks. “Fortunately for you, I also like your kid, so it’s notthatbig an ask.”

“Well, only if you’re sure.” I rub the back of my neck. “But actually, what might be even better . . . my stepmom’s making dinner tonight, if you’d be—”

“I’d love to.”

And that’s that.

Chapter 45

Nat

Brenda’scarsitsinthe driveway, and I’m sure Avery and Syd are already here, because they’re teenage athletes and therefore perpetually starving. Olli trots after me, his usual Olli cheer buoyed by a bit of extra nerves.

My hand finds his. Fingers twine together. I squeeze, and his head tilts towards me. Brows lift, and the smallest of smiles plays at his mouth.

“Brenda’s cooking is to die for,” I tell him, and I let go of his hand to open the door. The sharp, spicy scent of sausage greets us at the door.

“I already love it,” he says.

“That you, Nattie?” Brenda calls from the kitchen, lifting her voice over the scrape of a spatula in a pan, the crackling hiss of oil, the low boil of water. “Get your ass in here to set the table.”

“Yes ma’am.” I hop up the three stairs onto the main floor, Olli at my heels.

“And don’t let your friend help!”

I snort, but Olli’s already grinning. “I like her.”

Brenda steps out from around the counter, hand extended. “Hi. I’m Brenda. You must be Oliver.”

“Olli.” Olli takes her hand. “You have a lovely home.”

“Hot as balls right now.” Brenda turns back to the stove. “Hope you like Italian. Food, that is. My kid’s not Italian.”

She delivers the line completely straight-faced, doesn’t even flinch when Olli barks out a surprised laugh.

“Shit,” I groan, but I’m laughing too. “You starting dad jokes now?”

“Be nice if you want to eat my food.”

“I’m always nice. Where are Syd and Avery?”

“Upstairs, somewhere. Doing social media, Syd said?”

I groan. “Jesus. Is that what they’re calling it? I just . . .” I march across the kitchen towards the stairs, but Avery hobbles down first, looking just as battered as when I last saw him. Syd’s on his heels.

“Is that Olli James?” he half shouts, but it’s me he stops in front of. Me he angles his gaze up towards. Me to whom he whispers, “Thanks.”

Then, to my shock, Sydney scoots past him to wrap her arms around me. It’s a quick hug—in and out—but it leaves me a little breathless all the same.

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