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I wipe my hands on a rag and stare down at the floor. “Peyton got upset that I didn’t ask her if Livia could stay over for longer than first planned.”
Heather’s expression shifts from teasing to thoughtful. “Trust me when I say you fucked up, my friend.”
“Thanks a lot. It wasn’t hard to come to the same conclusion on my own.”
“What I mean is that you live together with Peyton, so of course you should’ve asked her. Your home is now her home,” she reminds me.
Heather has never been one to hide from difficult topics, and that’s part of why I hired her in the first place. She says what she means and means what she says, the same way she does with Dennis when he forgets to log parts or Boone when he leaves tools lying around. Still, hearing her wisdom directed at me makes me want to hide.
“I know that. But what if I do the wrong thing again and again when all I want to do is help my sister?” I ask desperately.
She shrugs one shoulder. “You’re a good guy, Ollie. You take care of people. That’s one of the reasons this place runs as well as it does. But sometimes taking care of people also means setting healthy boundaries.”
I’ve always thought of myself as the guy who fixes things and others know it as well. At the shop, at home, anywhere people expect me to hold things together. But fixing things usually means smoothing problems over and keeping the peace long enough for everything to settle down. Boundaries haven’t been a part of that equation for a long time. Not since I cut the ties with my biological mother and told my siblings to do the same.
“And for what it’s worth,” she adds, “Peyton doesn’t strike me as the type to start arguments for fun. That girl’s been in here enough times that I can tell she thinks things through before she opens her mouth.”
I glance down at the rag in my hands, twisting it between my fingers. Heather’s right about that, too. Peyton isn’t impulsive. If anything, she overthinks everything until she’s certain she’s not overreacting. It’s one of the things her son of a bitch ex unfortunately taught her.
“Yeah, she does,” I admit aloud and rub my face with one hand, the exhaustion from the entire situation and last night catching up to me.
“You better check up on your sister and that baby of hers, then apologize to Peyton later.”
I watch Heather walk back toward the front, shaking my head. There’s no second guessing with her, no polite dancing around the obvious. If she thinks you’re being an idiot, you’ll know it.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I scroll to Livia’s name. She answers on the third ring.
“Just checking in,” I say, stepping into my office. “How’s everything going?”
“Tilly just ate. She’s down for a nap now. Chase and I are watching a movie.”
Some of the tension leaves my body. At least not everything has gone completely off the rails. “That’s good.”
“I cleaned up earlier,” Livia adds, sounding normal and happy.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” There’s a pause before she asks, “Have you talked to Peyton yet?”
“No. She needs space, so I’m giving her that.”
“Right.” The word drags like she’s thinking about what to say next. “I mean, I get why you’re upset with her—”
“Liv, don’t.”
“I was going to—”
“I know exactly what you were going to say,” I interrupt. “I’m not listening to that type of disrespect towards a woman I lo—care about.”
Another pause. “She was being pretty hostile to me yesterday, though. The way she kept looking at me at the dinner—”
“She's protective. That's not the same as being hostile. Peyton doesn't know you yet, and you don't know her. You both need to give one another the chance to find out who the other really is.”
“I’m just saying she doesn’t like me.”
“That’s not true.” The words come out automatically. I lean back in my chair and stare at the cluttered desk in front of me, trying to keep my voice even. “She’s just worried how the recent changes will affect Tilly and the rest of us. That’s how Peyton’s brain works. She worries about everyone.”
“Mm,” Livia hums, though it doesn’t quite sound like agreement.
