I Can't Love You✔

Forgive me, Ollie, for I have sinned. {9}

Guilt weighs heavy on me as I turn off my bike and dig the bat out of the saddlebag. Ollie left it there last night, and after the fuss she made over it, I can only assume she's going to want it back. My harsh words have played over and over in my mind since I got home last night, and I'm dedicated to at least apologizing to her this morning.

The small, quiet house sits nestled into wild ferns and mature triple maple trees. Like the coward I am, I waited until I knew Andy would be at the gym before showing up. The last thing I need is for the bossman to teach me a boxing lesson this morning for hurting his baby's feelings.

Might as well get this over with. I swing my leg over my bike and trudge up to the house. Usually, I don't have to knock to go in. With our families being as close as they are, we treat each other more like family. But I find myself on Ollie's porch staring down at the black and orange bat, debating on whether to knock, go in, or run.

Running sounds more than tempting but doesn't exactly solve my problem. So I go with the middle option. The jiggly brass knob turns, and I push my way into the house. All is quiet, which is unusual if Ollie is here. I noticed Andy's pickup is gone, so is Tee's blue Jetta, but the rolling turd Ollie calls a car is still parked on the curb. So unless she and Tee went somewhere together, she should be here.

If not, maybe I can leave a note with the bat and call it good?

Yeah, that's probably not the best choice either. I head down the short hall that leads to the two bedrooms, and stop in front of the chintzy brown door with a bold red and white sign that now reads 'Beware of Ollie, she will bite' tacked to it. The old beware of dog sign now has her name spelled out in magazine clippings. It looks like something I've seen in some serial killer movie, which is ironic really as I've never been able to get her to watch one with me.

The door is slightly ajar, and I push it the rest of the way open. The tiny room barely has enough space to hold her full bed. The frame stretches from wall to wall, leaving enough of a gap for the door to open. Andy even had to take the doors off her closet just so that she could reach her clothes.

Ollie is tucked under her pink ballerina blanket that she's had since she was a kid.

I crawl up on her bed and flop down next to her. She's still sound asleep, which is weird for Ollie. Usually, she's the first one up. I poke the end of her small sharp nose until her face scrunches up. When she cracks a lazy eye open at me, I notice how bloodshot they are.