Now or Never

by Victoria Denault

  “You’re my hero,” Ginny says and winks. “I’ll be back with the drinks in a jiffy and consider them on the house.”

  I watch her head back to the bar and turn back to Cat. She gives me a sympathetic smile. “Look, I know that you’re going through a lot right now. Of course you’re feeling raw and kind of alone, but please think twice before you lean on that boy for anything—emotional or physical. I mean, I get it. He is pretty, but that’s the outside. On the inside he ain’t pretty.”

  I avert my eyes, staring out at the churning water beyond the windows and I nod. Not because I agree with her but because I just don’t want to talk about it—him—anymore. My stomach churns, and I feel so conflicted. I can see Cat and Ginny’s points. However, I also feel like I know him in a way they don’t. I’m also worried I’m letting that kiss color my opinion.

  Cat and I stay at Riptide’s for another couple of hours and then she tells me she has to get home or she won’t be able to get up and make the cinnamon buns tomorrow. Not wanting to deprive the locals of the delicacy, I don’t argue, even though I’m not at all tired and not looking forward to going home and being alone. Being out and doing something has been good for me.

  The walk home isn’t long, but the temperature has plunged in the last few hours and fall weather is definitely here. It’s downright chilly and I didn’t bring a sweater. Cat notices me shiver and gives me a sympathetic smile. “If you think this is bad, wait until November.”

  “It’s just that it was so warm this afternoon,” I complain and she nods.

  “Yep, you know what they say, if you don’t like the weather in Maine, wait a minute.” She grins at her own joke. “Your place is heated, right? I know not all cottages are.”

  “Yeah, my dad had it winterized when I was a kid because he had always planned on retiring here,” I say and that all too familiar wave of grief crests inside me.

  “I can’t believe you don’t want to go back to San Francisco,” Cat says and looks at me like I’m a puzzle she can’t solve. “You’d have better weather and more nightlife and your family. Hell, just talking about it makes me want to move there.”

  I laugh but it’s hollow, just like I feel. “San Francisco is nice—don’t get me wrong—but it never felt like home,” I say, which is something I haven’t told anyone. “And Toronto isn’t home anymore because there’s nothing left there for me. This place was always the one constant in my life and I love it here.”

  “I do too,” Cat replies and gives me a quick side hug. “I’d never leave the business or the state, but…California just seems like such a dream.”

  “It’s not a dream when you’re there to watch your dad die,” I blurt out.

  She gives me another side hug and I look away, willing the sadness to stay at bay. I had been doing so well tonight. As I blink back tears, I notice two men standing on the edge of the sidewalk, near a hedge just up ahead. They’re huddled together, heads down, as if having some kind of secret conversation. My step falters. “Is that Holden?”

  Cat’s head snaps forward and her eyes narrow at the very same time the two men step apart and look at us. She doesn’t need to answer because it’s clear as day—that is Holden Hendricks. I’m startled because I didn’t expect to see him out at almost midnight but Cat’s expression is more than startled, it’s disturbed. “Yeah and that guy he’s with is the town drug dealer.”

  “What?” I gasp, like an idiot.

  “Hey!” Holden says and starts toward us. He glances back at the guy he was talking to. “Take care, Kevin.”

  Kevin nods and walks away without looking back. Holden stops on the sidewalk directly in front of us. “You guys have a good night?”

  “Until now, yes,” Cat snaps at him and it makes him frown. She doesn’t seem to care as she looks over at me. “Come on, let’s go.”

  I try not to look him in the eyes as she tugs me down the sidewalk. I shouldn’t feel bad, but for some reason I do. We walk another two blocks and Cat looks over her shoulder and frowns as she stops and turns around. “Why are you following us?”

  “I’m not. I’m heading home,” Holden replies, frustration tainting his voice.

  “Can you walk some other way?” Cat asks.

  “No,” he says flatly and his shoulders visibly tense. “Look, I get it. I fucked up with you—with everyone—when I was a kid and you’re never forgiving me. Fine. But let me fucking live my life.”

  He brushes by us on the sidewalk and storms ahead. His aggressive reaction startles me, but I get it. He’s frustrated. I find myself feeling bad for him. I want Cat to give him a chance…I want to give him one too…I just don’t know if I can. We walk about a half a block behind him until we reach Cat’s street and she stops and gives me a hug. “You going to be all right?”

  “Of course,” I say with a chuckle that I almost choke on. “Holden is harmless.”

  She looks like I just told her Hannibal Lecter likes to snuggle. I ignore it and wave good-bye as I continue walking. “Save me a cinnamon roll in the morning.”

  I can hear her sigh as she turns down her street. Holden is just a shadow up ahead—shoulders hunched, head down. I find myself picking up my pace until I’m almost stepping on the back of his heels. He knows I’m there but he doesn’t acknowledge me and it makes me feel worse. “I’m sorry about Cat.”

  “Don’t be,” he growls back. “It’s fine.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I mutter. “I mean she is still bitter about her grandmother’s pearls and I would be too if you took something sentimental from me.”

  “Like whatever the hell is on that paper you had with you the other day?”

  I wasn’t expecting the conversation to move to that, so it’s like a bit of a gut punch. But when he finally glances over at me, as I step up beside him, I nod. “Yeah. Like that.”

  “Are you going to tell me what that was?” Holden asks.

  “A letter from my dad,” I say but my voice is scratchy and dry so I force myself to swallow. “He left each of us a letter to read after he died.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a second as we walk and then he nods slowly. “That’s gotta be nice and yet painful at the same time.”

  “Exactly.”

  We turn onto our street. The air is getting cooler and cooler because we’re getting closer to the ocean and I shiver. He notices and starts to pull off the jacket he’s wearing. I shake my head, but he ignores me and drops it over my shoulders.

  “God, you’re confusing,” I sigh.

  “Excuse me?” I can tell by his tone that he’s annoyed.

  “It’s just the way you are with me is the opposite of the way you are,” I say in the worst attempt at an explanation ever. The confused and annoyed look on his face reflects that. So I try again. “I mean, you’re nice to me and funny and even borderline charming.”

  “Borderline charming,” he repeats and smirks. “I should put that on a T-shirt.”

  “But then you’re still friends with assholes like Kidd and I find you on a dark street corner talking to a guy Cat claims is the local drug dealer,” I say and lift my hair out from under the jacket he draped around me. “And I hope I don’t have to say that I don’t want any drugs anywhere near my property.”

  He stops dead in his tracks a few feet from my driveway. His jaw is clenched and his shoulders are rigid, but he has a wounded look on his face so I’m not surprised he turns and starts storming toward his trailer without another word. I find myself chasing after him. “Holden, look, I’m just saying you confuse me!”

  He turns so quickly it shocks me and I step back. “No. You’re saying you think I’m still a fucked-up kid. Or worse, that I wasn’t just a fucked-up kid, I’m an inherently bad human being. And that’s not at all the case.”

  “I don’t…I’m sorry,” I stumble over my words like a guilty-as-sin, completely inept criminal because that’s what I feel like.

  “You should be,” he snaps and steps closer so we’re toe-to-toe and
then he reaches out. I assume he’s reaching for his jacket but his arm circles my waist instead. He yanks me until our torsos bump. I shiver again, but I’m anything but cold. “The truth is, whether you know it or not, you’re searching for excuses. Reasons why you can’t like me. Because you do. You like me and you loved that kiss.”

  His arm around my waist tightens and my heart takes off in a gallop. I open my mouth to speak—but what am I going to say? You’re right. Because he is, but I’m not willing to admit it, at least not in words. I’m pretty certain that, as I rock up on my toes and wrap my arms around his neck as I lay one on him that he’s getting the message.

  He takes over the kiss, parting my lips and claiming my mouth with his tongue and my body collapses against him in relief. I realize in this moment, that no matter who he is or isn’t, he is exactly what I need. And that revelation is chilling because I’m still so lost. He might be my light at the end of the tunnel, but I don’t know if he’s as dangerous as an oncoming train. So when he pulls away abruptly, that too feels like a relief.

  “What are we doing?” I ask desperately.

  “I know what I’m doing, Winnie,” Holden says firmly as he slowly takes a few steps backward, away from me. “I’m building a new, better my life with my business and falling for an amazing girl…but I don’t know what you’re doing and I’m pretty sure you don’t know either and that’s why I’m walking away right now. Good night.”

  He walks into his trailer and shuts the door, leaving me alone and flustered in his jacket with the taste of his kiss still on my lips.

  11

  Holden

  Duke smiles at me, and I swear to God it’s the best thing in the whole damn world. It’s so bright and so genuine that it completely overrides any whisper of guilt gnawing at me over the fact I didn’t mention this to Bradie at all…yet. But in my defense, she’s not talking to me anyway. I figure she’ll find out now, since I’m waiting with him in the lobby of the arena after practice. Duke hitches his hockey bag higher on his shoulder. “So is this, like, permanent? Are you our coach now?”

  I nod. “Looks like it. I mean, Coach really wants me on the team and I want to be here. How about you? You good with it?”

  “Totally!” Duke exclaims with an even bigger grin than before. “Mom said you used to play, but she didn’t say that you were good.”

  I chuckle at that. Of course she didn’t. “I had my moments back in the day.”

  “Yeah right. Coach said you were almost in the NHL. That’s awesome.” Duke is awestruck and I don’t feel the least bit worthy but it still makes me feel incredible.

  “What would have been awesome is if he had stuck with it and made the NHL.” Bradie’s hard voice fills the air and I turn and see her standing behind me. Her slender arms are crossed and her lips are set in a hard flat line. She is pissed to see me. What else is new?

  “It would have been much better,” I agree with her. “Hey, Bradie. How are you?”

  “What are you doing here?” she asks.

  “I’m coaching hockey now,” I explain with a shrug.

  “Since when?” she asks.

  “Since last week,” I reply, trying not to feel sheepish for purposely avoiding running into her after practices. “A friend of mine told me they were short, so I volunteered.”

  Bradie is still annoyed. “So he knows? I didn’t say you could tell him.”

  “Knows what?” Duke asks.

  “Coach kept it vague. I asked him not to include my last name,” I say and Duke is hanging on every word. “If I take the job, he’ll have to give the parents my last name, though.”

  “What are you guys talking about?”

  Bradie looks at her son and sighs. “Holden is my brother, which makes him your uncle.”

  Duke’s eyes get bigger and ping-pong between Bradie and I and then he grins. “Can I call him Uncle Holden? I want the kids to know we’re related.”

  Oh my God. My heart swells. Bradie looks at me. I nod. “Yeah sure, bud. Call me whatever you want.”

  “He’s great, Mom!” Duke says. “He taught us this new stick-handling drill and it was awesome.”

  Man, I remember being his age and being so damn excited about everything. Those were the days. Bradie was never like that. She was always serious and skeptical. When Mom died, I once accused her of being relieved, like it finally gave her a valid reason to be miserable. Yeah, not my finest moment. But I was thirteen and lonely and wanted a sibling I could bond with since I didn’t feel like I had anyone.

  “You don’t like it, clearly,” I say to her and step closer, lowering my voice so hopefully Duke doesn’t overhear. “I’ll quit if it’s really that big a deal to you.”

  She sighs. “Whatever. You can keep coaching. I’ll probably have to pull him from the team one day soon anyway. He has to maintain a certain level of grades to be allowed to play and he isn’t doing that.”

  Duke’s face falls. “Mom!”

  She turns on him with a stern but sympathetic look. “I’m not changing the rules, Duke. I was very clear from the beginning. B average or no extra sports crap. And your math teacher emailed me and said you’re barely holding onto a C and you only have a couple of tests left to bring it up.”

  “I’m trying. I suck at math because math sucks,” he declares his voice filled with frustration.

  I want to help plead his case, but it’s not my place and Bradie isn’t stupid. School is more important than sports. I wish someone had made me see that when I was his age because I would have probably had the grades to get into college instead of having to take online business classes from some made-up college no one has heard of.

  He makes a noise like a huff choking on a groan and storms toward the doors to the parking lot, well, as much as a ten-year-old can storm. Bradie glares at me again. “I’m not being a bitch. He needs good grades.”

  I lift my hands. “Hey, I get it. But, like, is there a tutoring program he can take or something?”

  She shakes her head. “The teacher has tried to keep him after class to give him help, but he has to be at practice. It’s a double-edged sword. And I can’t afford a private tutor.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” I don’t know what else to say. I’m not just doing this to see Duke, but it’s a big factor. I really want to get to know the kid. I want to have family in my life again. “If I can think of anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “You do that,” Bradie says flatly and turns to leave. “Don’t get too attached, Holden.”

  Too late, I think as I watch her leave. I head back to the rink and find Bruce in the stands going over something on his clipboard. He glances up at me, his face ruddy from skating around with the kids earlier. “Your weeklong trial period ends today. So, you staying?”

  “You want me to?”

  “Hell, yes! You were great with them and they were clearly inspired by your story and have been more engaged at practice since you got here,” Bruce says. He introduced me to the kids by explaining how I was the best local player in town and how NHL scouts used to come see me. He, luckily, skipped the part where my career ended when I was arrested for theft and punched two police officers in the process. “I’d love you to stay permanently but I won’t be shocked if you don’t.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?’

  “Practice is four days a week and we play almost every weekend. You’ll have trouble maintaining a social life,” he says and chuckles. “Hell, my wife calls herself a hockey widow.”

  “Yeah, well lucky for you I don’t have a wife or a social life,” I smile. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Same time, same ice,” Bruce replies and nods as I head back out of the rink.

  The air outside is just as cold as in the area. Hell, it feels even colder because it’s so damp, that kind of cold that seeps into your bones. I zip up my hoodie. Normally I’d have brought my jacket to wear as well, but Winnie still has it and I haven’t seen her all day. The electrician and I started work on the house at
nine and she was already gone. She didn’t come back before I left for practice.

  As I climb into my truck, my cell goes off and Jude’s number flashes across the screen. Huh. He must be calling to check on the work. I hit accept. “Hey, Jude. How are you?”

  “I’m good,” he says. “How’s Winnie?”

  What. The. Fuck.

  “Umm…what?”

  “I know she’s there,” Jude replies. “At least I hope to hell she is because I called Ty and he said she never got on the flight to Toronto a couple weeks ago. So, is she at the house? Is she okay? I mean she must not be, but…I mean tell me how she’s doing.”

  “I…well…” Fuck. I’m not supposed to tell her family. She explicitly said that. But…

  “She told you not to tell me didn’t she?” Jude asks and before I can answer he swears under his breath. “Why the fuck is she shutting us out? Listen, Holden, you’re not volunteering the information, so you’re not violating her wishes. I’m demanding it from you. So tell me. How is she doing?”

  I sigh and lean back against the headrest and close my eyes. “She’s okay. I mean she’s devastated, but she’s trying to pull herself through it, you know? Slowly.”

  “Yeah…but why does she have to do it there? Alone. Fuck,” Jude asks and I have no answers. “And she dumped Ty. Why the hell do that? I mean I could think of a thousand reasons, but she never wanted to hear them. She was with him ten years and then she suddenly decides to leave him the same week we lose our dad and then she runs off and doesn’t tell anyone about it?”

  “Dude, I know you’re my boss and everything and I like you as a friend, but I am not getting into the details,” I say and scrub my beard. “I don’t know exactly what she’s thinking and what she has told me is in confidence.”

  “Yeah, yeah I get it,” Jude grumbles and I can tell he wishes he could be mad at me for it. “I’ll find out for myself. I just don’t want her suffering through this all alone.”