the way they taste. I still can’t believe that my house has been broken into.
Dammit. Maybe I should’ve called my dad first. He’s a little less dramatic and a lot more levelheaded than my mother.
“How are the doctors’ visits going? Is everything okay?” my mother asks suddenly, as if realizing this isn’t meant to be a pleasant phone call.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, everything is fine. Well, not really. My house was broken into the other night. But I’m fine. I’m totally fine,” I’m quick to add.
There’s silence. Hell, I don’t even hear her breathing, which prompts me to pull the phone away from my ear to make sure the call didn’t drop. When I see that she’s still on the line, I frown. “Mom, you still there?”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Olivia Rene?”
I flinch at the atomic level of her voice. Lisa Hales doesn’t yell often. I mean, sure, she has a loud voice, but yelling in anger? That’s not something she does. Yet, she’s doing it right now. In my poor eardrum.
My eyes slam shut. “Don’t do that. I’m fine, I swear.”
“You’re fine? Fine? Your house was broken into. You are a young, beautiful woman who lives alone, and you could’ve been murdered, and you decide to call and break the news like you’re telling me what you had for lunch.” I cringe at her tone. It keeps getting higher and higher with each word. “When did this happen? Are the police involved? Oh my God! Your health!”
“I told you that I am fine,” I tell her, trying to remain calm, hoping she’ll follow along. “And it happened the other night. Things have been hectic, and I haven’t had a chance to call.”
She screams.
My mother screams, absolute bloody murder, on the other end of the line.
I cringe, wishing I had worded that differently.
“The other night? THE OTHER NIGHT?”
I tap the speaker button on my screen and begin brushing my teeth, unable to handle her piercing cries directly into my eardrum.
“You cannot do things like this, Olivia. This is irresponsible of you and your health. How dare you keep this from your father and me!”
That gets my back up. I spit a wad of toothpaste into the sink, snatching my toothbrush out of my mouth. “Irresponsible? Are you kidding? I’m having a crisis, and you’re more worried about me not telling you?”
“You’re not normal, Olivia. As much as you’d like to believe you are, you’re not! You can’t live a normal life!”
“I can!” I snap, tossing my toothbrush onto the vanity. “This is why I moved here. This is why I moved away—to get away from this. Your constant bickering in my goddamn ear every five seconds. You don’t think I can do anything myself.”
“Because you can’t!”
My chest caves in with pain, an iciness piercing down the center, making my bottom lip tremble. A searing ache slams into me, taking my breath away. Sniffing back the sudden pressure I feel in my nose, I grab my phone off the counter and let the anger and pain from the past few days out.
“You want to know why you’re never in the loop? This is why! Because you’ll never come to terms with the fact that I don’t need you, and I can take care of myself just fine.”
With those harsh words, I end the call, chucking my phone into my bedroom. I finish in the bathroom, pausing when I get a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. There are dark bags under my eyes, and the pallor of my skin looks dull and lifeless today. Of all days I’d need to look presentable, today is the day I had to wake up, looking like this.
Today, we’re taking the annual photograph that goes on the website. It has all the staff members who work at the clinic, to make our customers feel more connected with the staff who will be handling their animals. Dressing quickly, I opt for a white sundress and wedges, stuffing my work clothes into a bag, before I’m out of the house.
It sort of feels like the universe has decided to bestow the shittiest of days upon me; each day just seems to keep getting worse and worse. At work, Travis is an absolute nightmare. The minute I step foot inside the clinic, our gazes clash, and I feel his animosity toward me. It radiates in waves throughout the photo op and during our shifts. During our first procedure, he is snappy and rude and makes