Page 45 of Knowing Amelia

“I’m Liv’s neighbor⁠—”

“You mean, Amelia’s neighbor,” Ben says, his tone clipped.

“I guess I do.” Logan darts his gaze from Ben to me.

I wipe at the tears on my cheek, a shaky breath falling from my chest. I force my feet to move and make my way over to the door.

Logan’s brow furrows, and a vertical worry line forms between his eyes. “Whoa, Liv, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” More tears surface with the lie.

“I came to see if you wanted help with your carpet.”

Ben wraps an arm around my shoulders. A puppy marking his territory. “She doesn’t.”

My throat aches and my eyes sting. “Sorry, Logan, I⁠—”

“We’re selling.” Ben tightens his grip on me. “And we won’t need any help from you.”

“You’re selling?” Logan keeps his eyes on me. Ben might as well not even be in the room.

“She’s selling!” Sheila Forester sings from the dining room.

The space around me spins. Benjamin, Logan, Amelia’s chair in the corner, and back again—around and around. Benjamin, Logan, an absent Amelia—I huff out a breath, feeling as though I’ve ridden the Tilt-A-Whirl too many times. I shut my eyes, needing to find a thread of control. I can’t sit back and watch my life happen, others making decisions that I’m unsure of. “Benjamin.” I blink, then face my spinning world. “I need to speak with you.”

“We’ll have time.” He winks, but he doesn’t even look at me.

Pulling out of his hold, I compel my voice to be stronger. “Now.”

“Babe—”

“Don’t mind me.” Sheila skips back into the room. “I’m just going to check out the upstairs.”

Amelia gave me this house. I cannot lose it in less than a week’s time. My insides spasm with betrayal. Because if I lost her gift to me so easily, that’s exactly what it would be. Betrayal.

I do not want to sell Amelia’s house. I pull myself up from my puddle of compliance and shout in a tone I’ve never heard from myself before. “Stop!” I point in Sheila’s direction.

Confused and frozen on the fourth step, she gapes at me.

I take another step away from Ben and glower over at him. “Just stop it.”

A hiss sounds from Shelia on the stairs. “I need to check out the upper floor to fully⁠—”

“Don’t you dare take another step, Sheila Forester.” My jaw locks, but my words come out as a clear command.

Sheila’s face goes white, and she slinks down the few stairs she’s climbed.

Ben sighs, closing the small gap I’ve created between us. “Olivia⁠—”

“Don’t!” I jab my finger into his chest. Then, turning back to the middle-aged realtor, who looks a little afraid of me. “Let me clarify a few things. This house is not for sale.”

Sheila clears her throat, trying to be stern. “Miss, your father was very clear⁠—”

“I don’t care what they’ve told you, Ms. Forester. They have no right!” I glare at Ben behind a glassy sheen of tears. “I own this house, not my father, and certainly not Benjamin.”

Ben’s face flushes red. “We may need a second,” he says to Shelia.

“How dare you. You went along with this and said nothing to me.”