catch up

Cliff
Olivia kicks against me, the ball of her foot smashing against my shin. I release her, and hold my hands up, palms out. She whips around, fists up. They drop when recognition dawns on her face.
“You did work,” I say, grinning through a wince.
She sags against the closed front door, though, face pale. She sinks to the carpet and draws her knees to her chest.
“Liv?” I cross the distance between us and sit next to her.
Blinking away tears, she shakes her head over and over again. It’s a steady hand that brushes her hair out of her eyes, though, and I know my girl’s going to be okay. Still, I wrap an around around her and pull her close.
“Sorry I scared you,” I whisper into her hair.
Her head snaps up, though, as if she’s already showed too much vulnerability for too long. Those eyes ice over—a look I’m more than familiar with. Olivia is trapped in her own prison.
She lifts her chin. “What do you know about Mercer Reynolds?” A cold, calculating gaze searches my face.
“The name doesn’t really ring a bell,” I say, “but isn’t that your last name?”
“Mercy, then?” Her face is as hard as white marble, the usual contours of her cheeks gone.
I shrug. “Olivia, what’s this about?” I hug her closer, even though her body is rigid.
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