“No rush. Drop her off first, then head out.”
Olivia Bennett let out a little “oh” and then asked curiously, “Did Evan Dale have breakfast?”
Ethan Carter replied, “Don’t worry about him. He’s got someone looking after him.”
Olivia didn’t say anything more.
After breakfast—which was a classic American spread of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and toast—Olivia slipped into the car.
But today, something was different. Evan Dale was the one behind the wheel.
She and Ethan Carter slid into the back seat together.
Ethan glanced at her and started in with his usual reminders. “I talked to Mom already. She’s moving into the house today. Tonight, either she’ll pick you up, or the driver will.”
Olivia, gazing out the window at the passing maple trees, nodded. “Okay.”
“And everything I told you yesterday—you remember?”
She frowned a little, searching her memory, then nodded. “I remember.”
Ethan pressed, “What did I say?”
She turned her head and met his eyes, her own bright and expressive. “Don’t try to tough it out, don’t be too polite, and if you need anything, just ask Mom. That’s it, right?”
Ethan’s dark eyes softened. He reached over and took her hand gently. “I’ll try to wrap things up quickly and come home early.”
“You really don’t have to,” she replied almost automatically.
As the words left her lips, she could feel the mood shift in the car—the air got a little heavier.
She pressed her lips together, snuck a glance at him, and explained, “I just mean you should take care of work at your own pace. Don’t overdo it, don’t work overtime if you don’t have to. Take care of yourself. It doesn’t matter if you’re home a bit early or late.”
But Ethan’s expression only grew darker, not lighter.
Olivia could feel him watching her—his gaze calm on the surface but intense underneath—and it made her scalp tingle a little.



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