The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

“Who?”
“Tom,” Adam said, a trace of warning in his voice. His
knee was still against her thigh. Still warm. And yet, Olive felt
her blood turn cold. She really, really didn’t want to say it.
And yet she couldn’t ignore the question. She needed Tom’s
help.
“My mother.”
Okay. It was out there now. She’d said it, and she could go
back to trying not to think about it—
“Did she die?”
A beat. Olive hesitated and then nodded silently, not
looking at either of the men at the table. She knew Tom wasn’t
trying to be mean—people were curious, after all. But it
wasn’t something Olive wanted to discuss. She barely ever
talked about it, even with Anh and Malcolm, and she had
carefully avoided writing about her experience in her grad
school applications, even when everyone had told her it would
give her a leg up.
She just . . . She couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
“How old were you—”
“Tom,” Adam interrupted, tone sharp. He set his tea down
with more force than necessary. “Stop harassing my
girlfriend.” It was less of a warning and more of a threat.
“Right. Yes. I’m an insensitive ass.” Tom smiled,
apologetic.
Olive noticed that he was looking at her shoulder. When
she followed his gaze, she realized that Adam had placed his
arm on the back of her chair. He wasn’t touching her, but there
was something . . . protective about his position. He seemed to
generate large amounts of heat, which was not at all