NEITHER ONE OF US SPOKE as we sat at the booth—coffee mugs filled with delicious dark liquid and untouched strawberry tarts sitting in front of us. I had no idea what to say and I was sure she had felt the same way. I was tapping my fingers against the wooden table but after a while, the sound had only gotten irritating and my fingers felt slightly numb. I then began to nibble on the inside of my cheek and even that had started to hurt after a while. Throughout our silence, she had casually picked up her mug. She held it to her lips too long, causing me to believe she was just holding it there and not drinking the coffee at all. When I first arrived, she looked shocked by my orange hair but kept her comments to herself. I was thankful enough.

I looked down at my dye stained hands and took a shaky breath. What were we supposed to do? Of course, we were supposed to talk. That was why we were here: to talk. However, who was supposed to start the conversation? Was Olivia supposed to utter the first word? Or was I? Either way, we were still not talking and the clock was still ticking. We had been here for a while and progress was not being made. For starters, I wanted to tell her how sorry I was for her loss. Then again, apologizing for a death was not what most people wanted to hear. It only added more pain to their suffering. I did not know if Olivia was one of those people and I did not want to risk it.

Her eyelids were puffy and I knew some more crying had been done since we last saw each other at the hospital. She looked like she came in her pajamas; something comforting and supportive. Her hair was extremely frizzy and it looked tangled. Even though she said Jillian was not one of her closest friends, it was very obvious this was affecting her. I ran a tired hand down my face and closed my eyes. If she was like this, I only had to assume Harry was in a worse amount of shape. I wanted to go check on him. A part of me wanted to stand up right now and run outside to my car. I wanted to drive to the house we both used to live in and I wanted to make sure he was all right. I was not going to do that to Olivia, though, and Harry made it clear on where he wanted me in his life.

He wanted me out of it.

I was more than willing to give him his space. After all, I was leaving Seattle and I did not have any intention of coming back. I experienced love for a second time and I was grateful for the small amount of time we had. At first, I never understood Harry's fear. Now that our time had run out, I understood why he was afraid. I wanted more time with him, more hours, more days, more weeks, more months, even years. I would have loved to be here longer than I intended. The city was beautiful and the people were wonderful. I was not ready to give it all up but it was time. I had overstayed my welcome and I was being evicted from the city of Seattle.

"Olivia," I said, looking up to meet her gaze.

She sniffed but said nothing. I sighed and my heartbeat quickened. I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Death was never easy. I knew that. People grieved differently and I was still shocked Olivia wanted to meet up with me. I thought she would have hated me just like everyone else. I reached across the table and grabbed her hands, squeezing them tightly. She winced as soon as my hands met hers and the tears began to fall. I immediately moved from my side of the booth to hers and I wrapped an arm around her, trying my best to be supportive and comforting like the pajamas she was wearing.

"I know," she told me, shaking her head. "I know I shouldn't be crying out in public but I just couldn't help it, you know? My eyes have minds of their own now."

"Oh, Olivia," I tightened my arm around her. "You can cry. There's nothing wrong with crying. It's what makes us human."

She wiped her eyes and let out a laugh. Her fingers traced the rim of the coffee mug and she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. I looked down at my lap and frowned. She was hurting and seeing her like this was hurting me. How was I supposed to tell her I planned on leaving? I was not just going to leave without telling anyone. They would assume I went missing and get the police involved. That was the last thing I needed. The police were on Norman's side even though they had no idea what he was doing. Norman was a very powerful and convincing man. He could make the most innocent child do the most cruelest things.

"I just wanted to make sure you were all right," she said. "You sounded miserable on the phone last night and I just had to make sure. I know you barely knew Jillian so this barely has an affect on you but like I said, I had to make sure."

I nodded my head, digesting every word she was saying. This was affecting me. Sure, I was not hurting like Olivia was but I was still hurting. Jillian was a sweet person. I hated her for all of the wrong reasons. I barely got to know her. She barely got to know me. I felt a pang in my chest and shook my head, feeling guilty for her death. It was my fault. I should have never gotten involved with Harry. I should have left him alone from the start.

"I'm leaving town," I blurted out.

Olivia quickly turned her head to look at me, "What?"

"I can't stay here," I whispered.

She was looking at me but her eyes were focused on something else, "I'm surprised you came, then."

"Of course I came," I frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I just thought," she paused and scooted away from me, "that you told me you would show just to get me off of the phone. I suppose we both came to get some words off our chests, yeah?"

"I guess so."

"When are you leaving?"

"Within the next couple of days, I'll be gone."

"I'd like to know where you're staying right now."

I raised my eyebrows, "Excuse me?"

"You're my friend, Sydney, and I believe I should know where you're staying. I'm being very calm right now and it's taking everything in me not to slap you for being so selfish. I know you had your reasons for packing up your belongings and leaving Harry's home. He blamed it all on you and your heart told you to run. But did you ever stop to think about your other friends?"

"I don't have—"

"You have me," she frowned. "Isn't that enough? Can you at least tell me you're someplace safe?"

"Yes, I'm somewhere safe."

"Hotel?"

I looked down at the table.

"You shouldn't be staying in a hotel, Sydney. They aren't always the cleanest—"

I met her gaze, "Have you ever stopped to think that I want to stay where I am? It's not like I'm going to be staying there for much longer."

"You can't leave Seattle," she said and the pain in her voice was clear.

"Olivia, you have to see this from my eyes—"

"You can't just leave!"

"Stop yelling, please."

"How can I?" her tone was ice cold. "You can't just pack up your belongings and leave. Not now. You...You can't! We're all suspects for Jillian's murder. All of us. If you leave, you're only going to look guilty. Is that really what you want to happen?"

I opened my mouth to speak but immediately closed it back. She was right and I hated it. If I ran, everyone would believe I killed her when I did no such thing. I would be hunted down like a dog until they caught me and threw me behind bars. Covering my face with my hands, I shook my head slowly. The only thing I knew was how to run.

Ever since Diana died, I promised myself I was not going to be like her. I was never going to get myself killed because of something so inconsiderate and foolish. I never understood why she wanted out. We were paid loads of money and we needed money in order to survive out there in the real world. I was able to help my mother and Jett without telling them what I was involved in. They simply thought my job made me go places far from home. Elijah and I had planned to travel the world once we had enough money. Things were looking good.

Until we realized there was no way out.

Norman kept us as his hostages; threatening to kill us if we left. We knew too much and leaving meant possibly telling others. We were not going to tell anyone but he did not know that. He had serious trust issues and ever since Diana tried turning us in, none of us were allowed to leave. We had to prove to him we were loyal and we were going to stand with him, not against him.

But Elijah and I ran anyway.

We took all of the money we earned—plus some out of Norman's office—and ran. We took a limited amount of clothes and did not care about anything else. Elijah and I just knew we were going to make it. Once things settled down, we were going to get married and return to our families. With the extra money we stole, he had gotten me an engagement ring. It was simple but the meaning behind it was extraordinary. The ring promised me we were going to be together no matter what. We were going to stay together and possibly have a few children down the road. It sounded like the perfect plan.

Until they found us.

Until we were chased down.

Until Elijah was shot and killed.

Until I had to continue on my own.

Until Gwen turned into Sydney.

Until now.

"I'm sorry," I finally spoke. "But I can't stay."

"I have an extra room."

"I'm not staying with you."

"It already has furniture in it but I'm sure my apartment is big enough for your stuff."

"I said no."

"Please?" she begged and her eyes went up to my head. "If you move in with me, I can help you fix your hair. It won't be orange anymore. I can turn it back to its natural color."

As tempting as that sounded, I had to stand my ground, "No."

"You can't go, Sydney. I won't let you."

"Why do you want me to move in? I moved in with Harry and look where that got me. You're being strangely positive about everything."

"I prefer optimistic."

"I'm still not moving in with you."

She ran her thumb along her bottom lip as she looked deep in thought. Her eyebrows knitted together and wrinkles formed on her forehead. She pursed her lips and her eyes squinted a bit as she continued to think of a good enough reason to make me stay. I crossed my arms across my chest and watched her with curious eyes. She really did not want me to go and I did not understand why. We had only seen each other a couple of times. We were not close friends. Sure, I had her number and she had mine but we did not call each other like best friends did. I categorized us as associates, if anything. We simply talked and nothing more.

Her eyes suddenly gleamed and she grabbed my shoulders, shaking me viciously. My jaw dropped slightly and I tried to get her off of me. She smiled and scooted closer to me, "If you're leaving Seattle, I'm assuming you don't have a job?"

"I called Clare and quit."

"And you're slowly running out of money?"

"Why are you asking—"

"You're hired!"

"What?"

"You're officially working with my family and I. You have a job now. I'll have to talk to my dad but you're hired! We need all the help we can get because the restaurant is surprisingly getting more and more customers. You'll get paid and that means you can stay. If you move in with me, I'll only charge you a small amount and you won't have to worry about running out of money."

My voice was shaky, "Why are you so willing to help me after everything that's happened?"

"Friends help out friends," she smiled and wrinkles formed on the sides of her eyes. "My friend is in a bind and I'm more than welcome to help her out. It won't cause me any trouble at all. I've always wanted a roommate but my other friends have homes of their own."

"And I'm the homeless mistress who needs rescuing."

"Was Harry married?"

"No...?"

"Were the two of you sexually active?"

"No, we weren't."

"Then stop calling yourself a mistress!"

I fiddled with my hands and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. Did I really want to move in with her? I did not want someone else to die because of me. What if I took up too much of her time like I did with Harry and something horrible happened? I did not want to risk it...not with what just happened with Jillian. This entire situation was problematic and I did not have the slightest clue as to what to do. Olivia was not in her best state of mind and she only wanted me to move in because she needed someone. She had Billy to comfort her. I was sure they lived together. If not, they visited each other very often. I hated myself for sounding like a brat and I wanted to be there for her. She had called me her friend and I did not hear that very often. Was I being a friend in return if I did not do as she asked? If I continued to decline her offer, I would only be hurting her more.

"I don't know," was my new answer.

"I don't want you to feel pressured into moving in with me. I just don't want you to leave Seattle. It's a beautiful city and you have people here who love you. It's home. Even if you don't move in with me, at least work at the restaurant so you can continue to pay your hotel fees or whatever."

My lips turned downward in a frown, "I'm staying in a motel."

"My apartment is better than a motel."

I looked at her and she was smiling from ear to ear. It was good to see her smiling. Every time I looked at her, I was reminded of the Olivia I had seen in the hospital—broken and miserable. She was still broken and miserable but not as much. The other Olivia would not have been smiling in front of me. Her lips would not have even twitched.

"I'll come back and visit," I had said.

It was a lie, of course, but she did not know that. She raised her eyebrows at my response and shook her head slowly. I stared at the pink tips of her hair and smiled, remembering the first time I had ever heard her name. My smile widened at the memory of the conversation Harry and I had about her. Back then, everything was fine and everyone was alive. Things were good. They were delightful.

"Olivia has a very good memory and she uses that to her advantage. I'd try to remember everything she says if I were you. She loves testing people when she gets the chance. Seeing as how you're going to be new to the group and all, she's probably going to test you several times tonight. If you don't know the answer, say you have to pee or something. She won't care, honestly, but she'll ask you again later. God, I wanted to hit her with a car when I first met her."

"That's nice."

I placed my hands on the table and tapped my fingernails against it. Olivia leaned back against the seat and took a deep breath. A problematic situation such as this needed a solution and it needed one fast. We could not sit here all day as I thought about moving in with her or going back to my motel until I left Seattle altogether.

Decisions.

Decisions.

They were so hard to make.

"Will there be any rules?" I asked. "If I decide to move in? And that's a big if."

I could hear the excitement in her voice, "Yes, but not many. The apartment I live in is pretty old and the water doesn't stay hot for very long. If you accidentally use all of the hot water, let me know so I won't get in an extremely cold shower. I'll do the same for you. I have a bathroom in my room so the guest bathroom is all yours. That is, if you decide to move in. You can decorate it however you want but if you or I have guests, that is the bathroom they're going to use. We can share the food I have. I go to the grocery store once a week. For starters, you can go with me and soon enough, we can rotate. One person go this week and the other go the following week. I'll probably think of more rules as time moves along but that's all I have right now."

My eyes met hers and I could not help but notice how much hers sparkled. She looked extremely happy, as if she knew what my answer was going to be. I scratched the top of my head and when I smiled, she squealed, not having a care in the world if everyone else in the diner heard her. I gasped when her arms wrapped around me in a tight hug and I slowly hugged her back.

"Now," she backed away from the hug but was still unable to keep still. "I have an important question to ask."

"Okay," I nodded my head.

She clapped her hands together and her smile was the widest I had ever seen it. When she lunged forward for another hug, I nearly had a stroke. We both laughed for a little bit before she opened her mouth and asked me what she needed to ask.

"When can you move in?"