No bipolar or depression case was the same, I knew that. But whatever Olivia had been suffering from over the last several years couldn’t be defined as any one thing. What was going on with her was both everything and, at the same time, nothing. Unfortunately, I’d overlooked this paradox until now. And now I was beginning to notice the weird patterns in Olivia’s brand of crazy.

I’d wanted to get her help when I thought her reaction to Tate’s death was the same as any normal mother would have, but now it had changed into something else entirely. With the inconsistencies in her behavior, and the brief flashes of the scheming girl I’d known so well in high school, suddenly I was no longer so sure I wanted to get her help. Had she just been playing a game with me to see how far she could push me? And had it taken me this long to catch on to what she was up to? She was constantly telling me she didn’t need help, and I was beginning to wonder whether that was true. Was Liv just being Liv, someone who didn’t need a goddamn thing from anyone other than her dad’s money? If she was still the old Olivia I’d fallen for in high school, she was just putting on an act and then sitting back and enjoying the show.

I straightened and breathed out heavily when those thoughts went through my head again. She can’t be playing a game. She can’t be faking grief over Tate’s death, I told myself for the hundredth time since last night.

I was so confused, so torn . . . and such a fucking dick. I wanted to be with Kamryn so bad that I was now making up excuses for Liv’s behavior so I could justify leaving her without getting her help first.

The house phone rang, jolting me from the inner scolding, and I turned to grab it from the counter. I ground my teeth when the name I’d briefly seen on the caller ID registered, but I’d already pushed TALK.

“Hello?”

“Where’s my daughter?”

“How are you today, Mr. Reynolds?” I asked as I turned to walk out of the kitchen and toward Liv’s side of the house.

There was a pause before he huffed. “We don’t do small talk, Brody. Put my daughter on the phone and tell me why she wasn’t answering her cell.”

I rolled my eyes and suppressed a huff of my own. “I’m not sure, you can ask her when you talk to her. Liv,” I called out as I walked down the hallway.

Letting my arm drop so I wouldn’t have to play nice with my father-in-law anymore, I called out her name two more times as I let myself into her room and looked around for her. Rounding the corner into her bathroom, I froze for two seconds before I ran to where she was lying on the floor.

“Olivia!” I shouted and grabbed her limp body. “Liv!”

Pressing two fingers to the inside of her wrist, I grabbed the phone I’d dropped near her body, hung up on her dad, and called 911.

“Jeston Police Department, do you need fire, medical, or police?”

“I need an ambulance to 9709 Tuscany Way. Twenty-six-year-old female unconscious, I just found her with an empty pill bottle next to her. Breathing is very shallow, her body is still warm, though.”

The line beeped as Olivia’s dad continued calling me back, but he’d have to wait.

“Is this Brody?” the dispatcher asked cautiously.

“Yes. It’s Olivia . . . my wife.”

The dispatcher cursed softly. “Okay. What kind of pill bottle?”

I grabbed for it and read random things off the label. “Uh . . . duloxetine. It’s for thirty pills, the prescription was filled . . . four days ago.” I said the last few words with dread as I looked down at Liv. “Olivia, I need you to wake up!”

“Okay, the ambulance is already on its way. You said she’s still warm?”

“Yes, I don’t know when she took these. I walked in here to give her the phone and found her. Is there something I can do until they get here?”

“Are her lips or fingers blue?”

Grabbing her limp arm, I brought her hand closer before gently releasing it. “No. Come on, Liv!” Shaking her shoulders, I looked for some kind of reaction, but there was nothing. “I hear the sirens,” I said to the dispatcher. “I’m going to open the door. Thank you.”

As soon as he acknowledged my thanks, I ended the call and ran to the front door, threw it open, and waited for the EMTs to follow me back to Liv’s bathroom. They asked countless questions about her health, her mental stability, and if she’d shown signs of being suicidal in the past as they loaded her onto the stretcher and took vitals. Once she was loaded into the back, I got in my SUV and pulled out my phone as I followed behind.

“Hello?”

“It’s Brody.”

“You worthless piece of shit,” Mr. Reynolds growled. “Tell me where my—”

“She’s loaded up in the back of an ambulance on her way to Memorial because of you and your wife. Thought you’d like to know.” Without waiting for him to respond, I ended the call and focused on getting to the hospital. There would be time to yell at them later.

I STOOD AND held back an eye roll when Olivia’s parents walked into the waiting room almost two hours later. They lived fifteen minutes from the hospital, and they were both so dressed up, they looked like they were ready to go to a race.

“What have you done to her now?” Mr. Reynolds bellowed, and the other people in the large room looked between us.

My face heated, but not with embarrassment. Clenching my hands into fists, I refused to speak until they were standing in front of me, and when I did, I spoke so that only the two of them could hear me. “What have I done? That must be a joke considering Olivia is going to be put on a twenty-four-hour suicide watch once they’re done because she overdosed on antidepressants that were prescribed to your wife!” I hissed.

Mrs. Reynolds scoffed and crossed her arms. “Now you’re trying to lay blame on us?”

“What antidepressants?” Mr. Reynolds asked.

Grabbing the bottle from my pocket, I tossed it at his chest and said the information from memory. “Duloxetine, otherwise known as Celexa. Thirty pills prescribed to Cathy Reynolds, filled four days ago. All thirty were gone, and the bottle was next to Liv when I found her unconscious in the bathroom this morning.” I turned and took two steps toward the chairs before turning back around to face them. Throwing my arms out, I leaned forward and whispered sardonically, “Which, by the way, is probably why she wasn’t answering her phone.”

Mrs. Reynolds took a step closer to me. “Those are in my name because she was too scared to get them herself. She was afraid of what you would do to her if you knew she needed them.”

I laughed, but I didn’t know if it was because Olivia’s parents were so blind, or because I was just that much closer to breaking down after all this time. “Are you—are you fucking kidding me?” I said through gritted teeth. “I have never hurt Olivia. I told you she was suicidal, and you didn’t listen. I have been trying to get her help! I have been trying to get her to realize on her own that she needs help. The other night she called me saying she needed to be with Tate, that she couldn’t live without him anymore, and then she hung up on me. When I got home, she was talking to you on the house phone like nothing was wrong except for the fact that I scare her and shattered her phone. When she got off the phone with you, she told me she broke her cell herself because she wanted a new one. How do you not see that there’s something wrong with her? How do you not see what she’s doing? She’s trying to turn you against me because she knows you’ll give her what she wants. I’m the only one who’s trying to fucking help her! And how do you repay me? You put in a formal complaint with my chief?”

“Excuse me, sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step outside if you want to continue this conversation.”

I turned to look at the security guard standing there with one of the nurses, and my shoulders sagged. “It’s fine. I said what I needed to say.”