36. Red Light

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I shift in the driver's seat, trying my best to get comfortable, my ass numb and body stiff from the five hour drive. I blink a few times and reach for the coffee in the cup holder, gulping down the cold, remaining contents. Olivia offered to drive for a while, but I refused, letting her rest in the passenger seat after waking up at the ass crack of dawn to get ready and leave.

Glancing to my right, I catch a glimpse of Olivia adorably curled up in the passenger seat, her long hair slicked back into a ponytail, revealing the side of her face that isn't pressed to the window. Her elbow is planted on the door, her fist under her chin as her dark lashes rest against her cheeks. She tried her best to stay awake for my sake, but the blur of the scenery passing by seemed to win, lulling her to sleep.

We left her house early this morning, the day after Christmas, to head to Florida and get there just before noon, to enjoy as much sun as possible. We ended up taking her car because I only have the motorcycle, and I was not about to make the five hour drive on that thing this time of year.

Christmas just so happened to fall on the Tuesday right after finals, and I spent the holiday with her and her family, instead of locked up in my dorm like previous years. Just like Thanksgiving, spending the holiday with her family was amazing. It was literally perfect, like something straight out of one of those cheesy family Christmas movies.

I glance down at the dash to notice the needle of the gas gauge flirting with the large E, telling me we need to stop for gas. And to stretch, I think as I shift around in my seat for the umpteenth time, feeling a twinge of pain in my lower back.

I drive until I find a decent enough gas station, pulling in and filling up the tank. Locking the car doors, Olivia still asleep inside, I jog inside the small gas station to grab us some drinks and snacks, and on my way towards the cash register I pass the cheap liquor section, grabbing a bottle of the nicest wine they have, which is less than ten dollars, if that says anything. Thankfully, I don't think Olivia drinks often, if ever, so hopefully she won't notice the low end bottle. I just want to make tonight and this little vacation special.

Since last week, A.K.A. the best night of my life, I haven't been able to stop thinking about Olivia and how perfect that night was. But despite it being perfect, it was far from romantic. I can't help but think about how she deserves more, and I want to give her more. The best. She deserves flowers, candles, wine, and a decent size bed, and I'll be damned if I don't give at least that much to her. I want—need—to show her how much she means to me and how much that night meant to me, too. I'm determined to make our second time beyond perfect for her.

I walk up to the register and the man behind the counter looks zoned out, a far off look in his pale blue eyes. He's tall, rail thin, disheveled, and the scabs on his arms are a tell tale sign he's a total druggie.

I set my arm full of things down on the counter with a thud to grab his attention. His blank eyes slowly find mine and wordlessly, mechanically, he starts scanning my items.

"ID," he asks after scanning the wine, and I'm honestly surprised he bothered to ask.

I grab my wallet out of my back pocket and pull out my driver's license, handing it over. He glances at it, not even really looking. Just before he goes to hand it back, something seems to catch his eye and he snaps the little plastic card back a few inches in front of his face, examining it intently. Something actually seems to start churning in his empty brain, making me uneasy.

"Any day, pal," I snap, wondering why this crackhead is staring at my ID like that. Hopefully he doesn't have the mental capacity to remember anything about me, like my address to come murder me in the middle of the night.

He blinks, reluctantly handing me back my card. I shove it back into my wallet and pull out my credit card, shoving it in the card reader before he can rattle off the total. As soon as the transaction is approved, I gather up my things, not bothering to stay a second longer to ask this weirdo for a bag.

I jut my hip into the handrail of the door, pushing it open and getting the hell out of here, that guy giving me beyond creepy vibes. As quietly as I can, I open the back door of Olivia's car and dump everything into her back seat before jumping back behind the wheel.

As soon as I turn the key and the engine rumbles to life, I hear Olivia take in a deep breath through her nose, and I look over to see her stir awake. Tiredly, her eyes flutter open and she sits up straight, getting her bearings. Her brown eyes flicker over to me and I can't help but chuckle at how adorably sleepy she looks... and the small red indent on her cheek from being pressed against the window.

"What?" she asks through a yawn, stretching a bit, her stiff bones making tiny cracking noises.

"Nothing. You're just really cute," I state with a grin.

She blushes slightly, rolling her eyes.

I grab her chin and pull her lips to mine, kissing her longingly. I only cut the kiss short because I still feel perturbed by the creepy gas station guy, needing to get as far away from here as possible.

"How much longer?" Olivia asks as soon as we pull out onto the main road.

"We're about thirty minutes out from the hotel," I inform her, reaching over to grab her hand, bringing it to my lips.

"When we get there do you want to unpack and rest before grabbing some lunch? Then maybe we can head to the beach?" she asks, and I can hear the excitement in her voice. She's been dying to go to the beach, talking about it nonstop for the last couple of days.

I can't help but smile against the back of her hand. "Sure, baby. Whatever you want."

Her caramel hair flies in the wind, the skirt of her navy dress whipping against her thighs in the slight breeze, flaring out when she starts to twirl around in a circle. Pure happiness is written across her face as her bare feet pad around in the wet sand, the waves lapping at her feet whenever the tide rolls back in. She looks so effortlessly beautiful, her head carelessly thrown back as a wide, blissful smile takes over her face.

The sun is starting to set around us, the blue sky streaking with various pinks and oranges. Looking at her, the ocean and sunset create the perfect backdrop. I don't know if I'll ever see or experience anything as beautiful in comparison again.

She straightens, smiling at me over her shoulder while extending out her hand, beckoning me closer. So much life lights up her eyes that looking into them I feel like I've hardly lived.

More than willing, I walk up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind and resting my chin on her shoulder. I kiss the shell of her ear and she leans back into my chest, a small, content sigh leaving her lips.

"Is it everything you dreamed it would be?" I tease lightly, knowing how excited she had been.

"Definitely," she says, a lazy smile gracing her lips.

I plant a series of kisses along her neck as she watches the ocean and the sky changing colors beyond it.

"Did you come to this beach often?" she ask, and I know she's lightly probing me for answers about my childhood.

"Once or twice," I admit vaguely, my lips still attached to her neck. "I rarely ever came to the beach."

It's true, living in Florida, I've only been to the beach a handful of times. Most of those times were when I was in high school, sneaking out to attend parties held late at night that were typically busted by the cops. None of my foster parents were fans of that. But I imagine in Olivia's head the experiences I've had here are filled with family fun and sunshine.

She hums in acknowledgment. "Maybe one day you could show me around all the places you used to go to. Your house, school, wherever," she says, and I can hear the hesitancy, the nervousness in her voice, knowing I won't be too keen on the idea.

I sigh into her shoulder, afraid this would happen. I gently spin her around to face me, brushing her hair out of her face. "Baby, I wish I could, but I can't even count the number of different houses and schools I've been shipped off to since I was a kid. I never stayed in one place for long, and all the houses I stayed in with my mother were either abandoned or shitty apartments owned by her lousy boyfriends. I—I don't want you to see that," I admit shamefully.

I watch her eyes fill with sadness. She takes my face in her hands, standing on her tiptoes to place a tender, understanding kiss on my lips. "Okay," she whispers, resting her cheek against my chest, her arms wound tightly around my waist.

I stroke her hair, resting my chin on top of her head. Heavy silence falls between us, the only sounds are the waves crashing around us.

"Do you want to see your grandmother at all?" she asks, breaking the silence.

I close my eyes, holding my breath. "Would you be mad if I didn't want to see her?"

She hesitates for a moment. "No." I can tell she's lying, that me not wanting to see my grandmother is bothering her—which is bothering me because I don't want to disappoint her.

"I just don't want you to regret it one day when it's too late," she admits softly into my chest, and my arms instinctively tighten around her.

Oh my sweet girl.

Would I regret it one day? Probably not.

My grandmother and I have never had a close relationship. She took care of me as a baby for a while because my mother shoved me off on her, but that was pretty much it. We talked briefly maybe once every other year, but her dementia was getting so bad she hardly even knew who I was anymore, so I just gave up.

But then my mind oddly drifts off to ten years from now, when I have a house of my own and a family, a couple of kids running around. Two little girls with big honey colored eyes and caramel hair swim my vision, and my stomach tightens thinking of the day they ask about their grandmother, and possibly their great grandmother, along with other aspects of my life. While I may never allow them to meet their low life grandmother, and I have no clue who their grandfather is, maybe I could at least give them a positive outlook of their great grandmother.

I take in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. "Alright."

Olivia stiffens in my arms, leaning back to observe my face. "Alright?"

"Yeah, I'll go see her."

She looks at me skeptically, a small frown marring her brow. "I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to."

I shake my head. "No, you're right. This is probably the last time I'll ever get to see her. I might as well. She probably hasn't had visitors in years."

Her features smooth over and her eyes grow soft. She leans in and presses her lips to my neck.

"How about we go see her after dinner tonight?" I offer, honestly wanting to get the interaction over with. Plus, if we go tonight it'll dwindle down the number of hours we'll be able to stay.

"Sure, if that's what you want to do," she says, looking up at me with her big brown eyes, making me melt.

"Yeah, I want to."

After dinner, we go to my grandmother's nursing home that smells heavily of antiseptic and death, making me very uneasy. A nurse with teal scrubs leads us to a large dining hall where residents are lingering around. She walks us up to a round table where a lone, frail elderly woman is sitting, and I almost don't recognize her.

"Mrs. Miller," the nurse says, raising her voice a little and placing a gentle hand on my grandmothers shoulder to gain her attention. "Someone is here to see you."

My grandmother stops poking at the pudding cup in front of her with a plastic spoon and glances up at me, her eyes brightening. "Bryan!" she says cheerfully. Close enough, I guess. I'm surprised she even recognizes me.

The nurse smiles politely, excusing herself, and heads back to the front desk.

"Hi, grandma," I say, awkwardly stepping forward to lean down and give her a one armed hug. My stomach tightens in realization that this is one of the few times I've gotten to hug her. And it's most likely my last.

"Oh my goodness, you've gotten so big!" She gawks at me. "How old are you now, twelve?" she asks in all seriousness due to her dementia.

I clear my throat. "Uh, no. I'm actually twenty-two."

Her thin lips purse into a confused, disbelieving frown.

"This is actually my girlfriend, Olivia," I say, switching the subject and stretching my hand out to Olivia. She places her hand in mine and steps forward into my grandmother's line of vision.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you," Olivia says sweetly, despite shyly tucking herself into my side.

My grandmother's eyes widen with surprise and joy. "My, aren't you just the prettiest thing," she says, fawning over her.

Olivia blushes madly, thanking her.

Olivia and I take a seat next to my grandmother at the table, Olivia taking the reins on conversation, keeping the topics light and generic. I can tell how excited my grandmother is to have visitors, even if she hardly knows who we are.

We sit and talk for a while, and thank God my grandma doesn't seem to notice or even mind the awkward tension radiating off me in waves. It feels so weird to be here, practically talking to a stranger I feel obligated to have a strong relationship with. I do my best to be polite and engage in conversation as much as I can.

I subtly look at the clock to realize it's just past seven and visiting hours are over at eight, meaning I thankfully only have to endure less than an hour more. It's honestly not even that bad, just more awkward than anything. And sitting here, staring at the fragile, frail lady who's almost skin and bones in front of me, is making conflicting emotions stir up.

"Well, look who's back," a familiar rough, sadistic voice says from behind me, making my blood run cold.

I turn around to look at my mother's face, and she looks so much worse than the last time I saw her. She looks like she's in her fifties, despite not even turning forty yet. Her eyes are sunken in, hair wiry and graying prematurely. Her yellow, rotting teeth look like a dentist's worst nightmare as she smirks at me like she just caught her prey, and the man standing next to her doesn't look any better.

"Weren't even going to tell me you were in town?" she chastises. 

I grit my teeth, every muscle tensing as I slip into defense mode. I stand up from my chair, subconsciously stepping in front of Olivia, shielding her. "How did you know I was here?"

She shrugs a shoulder. "I have my resources."

Resources?

What the hell does that mean? The only way she could have known I was in town is if someone told her... And then it clicks. The crack head at the gas station. Not a doubt crosses my mind that they run around in the same circle and he put two and two together.

She waltzes up to the table, bypassing me to sit at the other end of the round table, the man who I only assume is another one of her druggie boyfriends following her. Even my demented grandmother stares at them with skepticism and distrust.

I retain my standing position, itching to get out of here, and just as I'm about drag Olivia out of here, my mother speaks up.

"So what, you're just here to make sure you collect the money without even consulting me?" my mother continues, leaning back in her chair.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I spit, in no mind to play games.

"Don't play dumb with me," she snarls, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. "You heard she put you in her will over me and you're only coming down here to make sure it stays that way."

I shake my head, feeling like I just got hit by a freight train of information. "What?"

She growls impatiently. "That money belongs to me," she insists.

I blink, growing frustrated. "I have no clue what you're talking about," I reply honestly, not knowing where she's getting all these ideas about money. Did my grandma seriously put me in her will? Why?

She slams her hands on the table, gaining the attention of nearby residents. "The hell you do!" she accuses. "I talked to an attorney, and the old, demented braud is leaving everything to you! And she's so far gone now that she won't switch it over in my name because she barely knows who I am anymore!"

A humorless, bitter chuckle escapes from the back of my throat. Of course. It all makes sense now. All the phone calls, why she wanted me to come down here to see my grandmother so bad. She wants me to have everything switched over in her name.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying my best to leash my temper. "Of course. I should have known. You only ever call me when you need money," I state.

"I deserve that money! I'm her daughter!" she states hysterically.

"Yeah, and a shitty one at that!" I roar back, any reserve I have left cracking. All the emotions I had festering inside of me are coming to the surface. "You don't deserve anything!"

"And you do?" she counters, and for some reason her words hit me straight in the chest.

"I never said I deserve shit," I growl. "But I'll be damned if I give you any money so you can go blow it all on drugs. Like you always do. Always have. That's why you're probably not getting anything in the first place. You were a shitty daughter that only cared about getting your next high. You stole money from her all the time to get drugs and wound up getting pregnant at fifteen because you were so reckless. Then, you were a shitty mother, never caring about your own son once and shoving me off onto her for as long as you could until she had to kick you out."

Her jaw ticks in anger and annoyance. "I was a good mother. You always had a roof over your head, didn't you?"

I bark out a laugh. This lady is fucking delusional. "Yeah, because seventy percent of the time it was provided by other people! I've been placed in so many foster homes because of you, I've lost count!"

Zero remorse crosses her face, sending me over the edge. Suddenly I feel angry, hurt, vulnerable. Like I'm a little kid all over again, just wanting my mommy to care about me.

"Let's get out of here, Finch," I say, grabbing a stunned Olivia by the arm and leading her towards the exit.

"We're not finished here!" my mother calls out, and I hear her get up behind me. She grabs my arm and I spin around to face her, towering over her.

"Yes. We are," I say with finality. "Never in a million years will I ever give you a penny."

Her hard, sunken in eyes look up at me with pure hatred. "Fuck you."

"Right back atcha."

I back away slowly, sending her one last warning glare before placing my hand on Olivia's lower back and steering her out to the parking lot. I open the car door for her and she gets in, speechless. I get behind the wheel and start the engine, peeling out of the parking lot more aggressively than I intended to.

The silence inside the car is almost

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