My mouth twitches sarcastically. “When have you known me to listen?”

Her laughter is weak, but existent. “Do as I say.”

Olivia hates being dependent and I hate having to say the following: “I’m going to have to carry you.” Because with the toll this day has had on her body and mine, I don’t trust her to walk or trust myself to catch her if she stumbles.

“Fine.”

I lift her blanket-encased body from the bed. Olivia should weigh more, but the cancer has ravaged her. I ease out the screen door to her room, careful to keep it from slamming shut, and step onto the back portion of the wraparound porch.

I walk until I reach her favorite spot: the porch swing. That’s where she prefers to sit, but there’s no way she can support herself. Instead, I tuck her into the Adirondack chair Cyrus built for her last summer. Her head collapses back against the chair and she scans the yard. The dim light in the east casts a glow onto the drive that leads to town, the large garage that doubles as the clubhouse, and the woods surrounding the house. This porch is her favorite spot on earth.

I settle onto the swing beside her. She may not be able to sit in it, but the creaking sound of the swing brings her peace.

“Have you considered going to school in the fall?” Olivia asks.

It’s her dream for someone in her family to go to college. Not one of her children made it. Hell, Eli dropped out of high school. Though I’m not blood-related, I’m one of Olivia’s. “No.”

“Why not? You’re smart and have potential. You can still be a part of the club. Distance doesn’t mean anything, not when it involves family.”

“What’s wrong with the family business?”

“Nothing,” she says with a sigh. “But they do what they do because their options were limited, especially at the time. Your options are not limited.”

“Next topic.”

“You think you can push everyone away, but not me. You can’t shut me out.”

Then I’ll change the subject. “Stone said Violet took on babysitting to make money.”

The mention of the daughter of a club member who died causes Olivia to grow reflective. Violet is a sore spot for Olivia and the club.

“Nice try,” she says slowly. “Bringing up Violet thinking it’ll blow me off course, but hear me—not working. Go to college. See what the world has to offer.”

“I can throw a knife straight. Does that mean I should join the circus?” Ridiculous, yes, but so is this conversation.

“Yes, if that’s what you want.”

“Joining the business with Dad and Eli is what I want.”

“How do you know?” Olivia raises her voice like she did with Eli when it came to Emily. “The only reason you want the business is because it’s all you’ve known.”

“Not true.”

“Oz—”

“Not true,” I say in a clipped manner that ends the conversation. Guilt twists my gut. Snapping at people is my norm, but I’ve minded my manners with Olivia since she got sick. “Can you drop it?” A beat. Then another. The crickets’ chirping grows louder. “Please?”

She releases a deep, throaty chuckle. “Oz being polite. I must be dying.” Olivia chuckles again. I don’t. She then mutters as if in a dream, “You don’t like her...you don’t like Emily.”

No, I don’t. “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does.”

I extend one leg on the swing, prop my back against the armrest and ground the other foot so I can make the creaking sound Olivia loves. Her condition has declined sharply since the party and I blame Emily. “I don’t see how. Emily’s leaving and won’t come back.”

“I don’t know what Eli was thinking at the party,” says Olivia in defeat. “Shutting down the building and keeping Emily’s adoptive father from entering. All it did was scare the child more. You should have seen her on the phone with her mom. Meg probably told her they were holding him at gunpoint. The poor thing was shaking.”

Eli was probably thinking that the moment Jeff found Emily they’d be out the door, and we all wanted the same outcome: for Olivia to be happy. “She’s not a child and she decided to leave. And as I said, don’t get attached because she’s not coming back.”

“Then this mess with the Riot.” Olivia rubs her temple. “Meg should have known better than to bring her into Kentucky unannounced and believe there wouldn’t be repercussions, and Eli should have known better than to send that e-mail to them. As always, the two of them are a mess.”

That sparks my attention. “Repercussions meaning what?”

Yeah, Meg’s a traitor for leaving, but Eli signed away custody of Emily when she was two and he signed away his parental rights entirely when she was five. The supervised visitations that he’s had over the years have been a pity offering.

“I wish Emily would stay.” Olivia ignores my question. “I regret not knowing her.”

“I don’t think you’re missing much.” Gorgeous? Yes. A pain in the ass? Definitely.

Olivia’s chest rises as she pulls in a breath. The sweet scent of the first blooms of honeysuckle hangs in the air and my chest hurts as she smiles. Olivia adores that smell. The happiness fades from her face. “Emily’s my blood. How could you hate what is a part of me?”

“She’s a rich girl from a big city who doesn’t get a thing about Snowflake or the people in it.” What Emily did—abandoning a dying woman who craved to spend time with her—was unforgiveable. But what should any of us expect from the daughter of a traitor?