by J. B. McGee
I’m sure if someone added dye to the carbon dioxide I’m exhaling, it’d be blood red. I huff a few times, my jaw ticking, hating that he blocked me—wondering what other options I have. But this is twice in one day I’ve made a spectacle in the neighborhood.
It’s twice in one day I’ve proved true what he said about me at the hospital.
He’s right.
I’m a loose cannon. I’m a volcano that just erupted, spewing lava, soot, and ash all over everything in my proximity.
And I never expected it to feel so damn good.
He’s right.
Cammie deserves better.
Our town isn’t small, but it isn’t big, either. It’s nearly impossible to avoid running into people we know. And today is no different. Alone for the first time since Holden rejoined me at the cabana this morning, I turn the corner at the Paulina’s, the local office supply store—not the chain variety. Holden chose this place for us to get packaging stuff and boxes. The thought of Holden makes me smile as I quite literally run into Amie. “Oh. Hey. Whatcha doin’ here?” I ask.
She tilts her head and eyes me speculatively, like she’s trying to assess the same question about me. Her gaze drifts to my full hands. It’s just an office store. What’s the big deal? People buy large rolls of tape all the time. And bubble wrap. Holden said he’d take the boxes to the cashier before he went to the bathroom, or if it wasn’t already, it’d be a dead giveaway as to why I’m here. Her hands are empty, so I have no clue why she’s here or what she’s buying.
“I’m here submitting the final order on the invitations for the wedding,” she says, pretty much effectively reading my mind.
I swallow hard at that one word: wedding.
“But it doesn’t look like that’s what you’re doing. Oh, and the last decade called. It says it wants its clothes back.” She winks.
Probably good I changed from the heels I had on last night like Holden recommended. I shake my head, ignoring the last part of her comment about the clothes. “No, obviously not.”
“Want to tell me something, Cam?”
At that exact moment, Holden rejoins me, and her eyes widen as they dart from me to him like she’s putting two and two together. Maybe because he makes zero effort to keep walking, to pretend we don’t exist. Of course, he didn’t ignore me last night, either. No, he most certainly did not. Or before breakfast. Or after. My core starts to warm. No. Sizzle. He puts his hand on the small of my back and leans in to kiss my cheek. I’m not sure why it shocks me so much. Going public with whatever this is was my idea. But it’s just strange.
“Sorry that took so long.” He holds his hands out for the merchandise I’m holding. “I’ll take these to the front and give you two some time to talk.” He glances at Amie and nods, giving her a quick, crooked, wry smile. “Amie.” Damn him. If that wasn’t an unspoken statement, a claim, then I don’t know what one is. She may be a girl, but Holden of all people knows how important she—her friendship—is to me. “Always good to see you.”
“Holden,” she says, a smile threatening to curve her lips. When he’s out of earshot, she steps closer and gives me one of those looks that don’t require words. But if she were to use words, only one would be required: spill.
A smile is about to bust out, but I’m not sure why. “I can’t do this here.” I shake my head, backing up to follow him. “Not right now, please.” I bite my lips, my eyes wide as I turn to walk away from her. No, I’m not ready to face more people today, to explain all the ways my life is a clusterfuck. But then why is my heart skipping? Why does this feel so…good?
She yanks Violet’s shirt, which is now mine, and that causes me to stop in my tracks. In less than twelve hours, this has become one of my most prized possessions. Not so much because Holden gave it to me, but because I know it was his sister’s—because I know how much it means to him. “No, no. That isn’t an option.”
When I glance over my shoulder, she arches a brow.
“What in the hell is going on?”
I shrug the shoulder that’s not being tugged back toward her. “It’s complicated.”
“Sounds like a Facebook relationship status.”
I laugh. “Then that sounds about right. Doesn’t Facebook make everything more confusing?”
“True, except you aren’t supposed to be in a relationship with Holden.” She shifts her weight, putting her hands on her hips. “Thought that ship sailed nine years ago.” Giving me her best shit eating grin, I have a feeling she’s not finished. “Although, I could argue that ship has been anchored, but unmanned for the same amount of time. Did the pirate who stole your heart decide to return it, or has he finally come back to claim the lost treasure?”
I glare at her, still trying my best to contain my own smile. Now, I’m simply biting my bottom lip so hard it may bleed. I refuse to answer her.
“Because I have my suspicions based on the way you were acting at the auction last night, the chemistry I could feel radiating off you two when you danced, what the answer is.”
Rolling my eyes, I let out a huff. “You’re relentless.”
“Just still a little confused why Holden is with you and not Oliver Twistdick. I mean your fiancé.”
I pivot and lean into her ear so hopefully the whole store won’t hear what I’m about to tell her. Although Amie’s already said plenty, and combined with Holden and me arriving to pick up moving supplies, it’s enough to fuel the rumor mill in case it was running out of steam after Rind ‘N Grind. “Ex…fiancé.”
She sucks in, making a whistle. “About. Damn. Time.” Of course she says that. She’s never liked him. “What did Ollie Wally Doodledick All The Day Long do?”
I laugh at her stupid nickname for him before leaning closer to her ear again. “More like Ollie Wally Doodledick All The Gays.” My smile quickly fades, replaced with a cringe. Immediately, I regret my words. That sounded terrible. Especially after I said I wasn’t going to tell anyone, that I didn’t want to be the one to out him, but this is Amie. She’s kept all my secrets for as long as I can remember.
She gasps. “What?” she whisper-shouts, stepping even closer to me than we were already standing. Which says a lot because that means she’s practically on top of me. I let out a little snicker. This is reminding me of Shaggy and Scooby right before Scooby jumps in Shaggy’s arms. Right down to her wide eyes, her mouth agape. I’m Shaggy in case that hasn’t been established. She’s about to tackle me. “Excuse me.” Her brows furrow. “Did I just hear you right?”
“I told you I can’t do this here.” Looking over my shoulder, I look back to see if Holden has made his presence known again, but he’s nowhere in sight, and this just makes me fall for him even more because I know that his absence isn’t because he doesn’t care or because he’s bored. No, it’s the opposite. He’s giving me some space. At least, I think that’s right. “What are you doing now? Where are you going when you leave here?” I ask Amie.
“Chilling for the rest of the day. Recovering from last night.”
“And Brendon?”
She shrugs.
“Well, what I’m doing isn’t exactly considered chilling, but we could sure use some help.”
She arches a single brow.
“Feel like helping me pack and move? We could talk more freely.”
She nods. “Where’s your new place?”
I swallow, unsure of how she’s going to react, but based on how she’s already responded to the news of me being with Holden, I expect she’ll be cool. Even still as the words begin to slip from my lips, my shoulders slump. “The Masters’ guest house.”
“Is that really a good idea? Out of all the places—”
“Trust me,” I say, holding up a hand. “I’ve already thought about it all. Have I mentioned I ran into my father earlier?”
“Oh…” She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes.
“Let’s just say your comments about my outfit and my company were really kind co
mpared to his.”
“Does he know about…you know…?”
“Complicated. Everything is complicated, Amie.”
“Right.” She lets the T pop.
“So, are you going to call Brendon? I’m sure Holden would love the—”
“Love the what?” Holden asks.
Glancing over my shoulder, my heart freakin’ skips a beat at how gorgeous he looks with his mused black hair that’s had his fingers run through it all day. The fluorescent lights catching little pigments of what appear to be specks of crystal in his blue eyes combined with the megawatt smile on that stubble-lined, square jaw make my knees weak. “Help with the heavy lifting.”
He looks past me to Amie. “I told her to just hire someone tomorrow, but she insists on doing it today. So, yeah.”
I hate it when people talk about me in third person like I’m not standing right here. “Sue me if I’m anxious to move on.”
Amie chuckles. “I think you’ve passed that point. Looks like you’ve pretty well moved on.” She glances between us like she used to do when we were in high school.
And that only fuels Holden’s grin. “We’re definitely working on that.” He shoves his hands into his jeans. “Should be much easier once the living arrangements have been sorted. So…”
“Yeah, exactly. So.” Glancing between the two of them only unnerves me. They’re in a shit eating grin face-off. I sigh. “Are we gonna stand around here all day and chat, or are we actually going to pack and get my stuff out of there?”
He loops his arm around my neck like he’s about to give me a noogie, pulling me into his side. “Says the one who’s been talking for at least ten minutes in Paulina’s of all places.”
I cringe a bit as I stare at Amie. Instead of putting his knuckles on my head and rubbing them into my scalp, he brushes his lips against where I expect his fingers.
Her grin, that’s been permanently plastered on her face since Holden made his presence widens, which I didn’t even realize was possible. “Masters?”
“Yeah,” he says.
Something shifts with her, and her smile turns into a sugary sweet expression. “Let me be clear.” Oh shit.
“Mhmm,” he mutters. Like he knows what’s coming. He should. At least, I think I do.
“I know you went through some really bad shit back in the day.”
I can’t see him, but I feel his jaw tick against my head. His grip tightens on me. This position is a bit awkward. It feels like I’m being held hostage. The way he’s holding me makes me hope, that this time, he’d lean on me instead of push me away when things get tough. And maybe hostage isn’t the best term to describe this. Hostages don’t want to be captured and never returned.
“Let me be clear. If you hurt her again, if you duck out like it’s nothing, so help me I’ll strangle you with my bare hands.”
Yep. This position was fun for a hot minute, but now I think I’d be okay if the ground swallowed me up so I could bail on this pissing contest between them.
Holden releases my head from the crook of his arm, but his hands are on either side of my face in an instant. He stares into my eyes for seconds that feel like hours, like there isn’t someone right in front of us. His thumb brushes my cheek, and I can’t help but lean into his touch. “I promise I won’t do that again.”
It’s like he’s answering Amie, but telling me. His lips dip down and tenderly kiss me. My heart skips a few beats. Partially because we shouldn’t be doing this in public already, but also because it feels so right. So. Damn. Right.
“Trust me when I say I’ve been waiting for this my entire life.” He smirks as he repeats the words I accidentally said to him last night in the cabana before releasing me and turns to Amie. “So, are you going to make yourself useful today, or do you need a little time to recover? You know, time to pick your jaw up from the floor?”
It’s my time to give her a shit eating grin. “Please?” I bounce a little in place. “It’ll kinda be like old times.”
She rolls her eyes. “Better not be like old times because that’d require Brody.”
Amie and Brody never really dated. They just couldn’t keep their hands, or tongues, to themselves. Their chemistry is a lot like Holden’s and mine. It could never be ignored or tamped down. Maybe my hesitancy with Holden has been because of the way things went with them.
In a way, the death of Violet was the death of our little crew with Amie and I being the only survivors. But here we are. Three of us back together again.
Driving by Holden’s house on my way out of the neighborhood, I’ve found that I do it every day no matter where I’m going. There’s this secret hope he’ll see me, he’ll smile at me, he’ll motion for me to pull over, and we’ll just go back to the way we were before Violet got sick. But as my car passes his place, there’s no sign of him. I know what time he used to leave, but like everything else, I think that’s changed. In fact, I’d be willing to bet he’s leaving at a different time in an effort to avoid me.
My chest is so heavy, like something’s stuck in my wind pipe. No matter how many times I try to swallow, it remains unmoved. I cough. Nothing. The farther I get away from his house, the easier it is to breathe again, but my stomach is now tumultuous like our relationship, or lack thereof, like I just puked—that little bit of time where the nausea sets back in, but the next bout is inevitable and there’s no way to stop it.
It’s been four months since Violet’s diagnosis, since that day in the hospital, and one month since she passed away. I understood Holden ignoring all his friends during her last days. That made perfect sense that he’d want to spend all the available hours in the day with her, with his family. When my loved ones have been sick or passed away, the only people I’ve wanted to be around were those who understood my anguish, my grief.
Despite my brain understanding it, it’s like my heart was being squeezed too tight, like a balloon that was on the verge of popping if the grip tightened just a little more. And once a balloon pops, it can never go back to what it was.
Three weeks ago when I marched into the boys’ bathroom to try to get through to him, to let him know he didn’t have to go through this alone any longer, the fingernails dug into my heart, and it finally popped the moment he acted like he didn’t need me, that I didn’t know him.
That moment has made me question everything. Maybe he’s right. Despite having grown up together our entire lives, I suppose there’s a chance I only saw what I chose, what I wanted—the opposite of what I always heard Father talking about where Holden and his dad were concerned. Holden is excellent at sending me mixed messages, confusing me, making me wonder what’s real and what isn’t. Like that day in my bathroom. I just keep replaying it over and over, wondering if we’d kissed would things be different. Or maybe if we had, I’d just be more heartbroken than I am right now.
I’ve never understood how our families could be so close, yet Father resent Mr. Masters so much. The older I’ve gotten, the clearer it’s become. It’s our mothers holding everything together, refusing to allow interference. I’ve often pondered whether Mr. Masters knows how my father feels about him. They act cordial enough when we’re together. Our families go on trips together. How could they do all this when Father holds such animosity for Mr. Masters? Maybe Father just talks behind his back, and Mr. Masters has no clue how Father feels about him. Regardless, at sixteen, I’m being groomed every day to tolerate people no matter how I feel in regards to them because people are always watching how I react. I’ve heard repeatedly from my mother that we all have to get along in public for the good of the company and the family name.
That leads me to one conclusion. Joint family dinners, trips, shared cabanas, they are all for show. I never thought Father seemed to mind too much that Holden and I ran in the same circles, the same groups, because essentially that’s how we were raised. It almost felt as if they were waiting for us to grow up and fall in love, to finally join the business and carry on its legacy.
Up until about a year ago.
Even though Holden and I can’t ever seem to get our timing right, that’s when our friendship started turning into something more, but not something I could ever label as anything more. All I know is that’s when the flirtation started. Or maybe when I noticed it? When Father started to notice.
During the summers, Amie and I go to the pool every afternoon we can. Neither of us likes the morning sun, the slightly cooler temperatures. Same goes for the evening when the sun sets even though there’s something romantic about swimming in a pool at night. We like to be hot, to feel the tan being burned into our skin. One particular day, Wells, my brother, was also there along with Violet, Holden, and Brody.
I roll my eyes when Brody, Holden, Violet, and Wells come into view. Well, not so much at Violet. “Sometimes I wish we had two pools,” I say to Amie. “Then siblings could split up and not be harassed by big brothers and their annoying friends.”
Amie gulps. “No offense, Cam, but that’s a terrible idea.”
I tilt my head. “How so?”
“Because, obviously, that’d make me choose between hanging out with you and gawking over Wells’ six pack.” She licks her lips, never taking her eyes off my stupid brother. “Dang, baseball players are hot.”
I elbow her. “Ew. It’s Wells, though.”
“I know,” she says unapologetically.
I huff. “Gawk at Brody. Or something other than my brother. Violet for all I care.” Why did I just name pretty much everyone for her to swoon over other than Holden? Could it be because in this moment as I survey our company—after I divert my attention from her to Wells—the next place my eyes go to are Holden’s, and it’s like he’s pinning me in place? He gives me that crooked grin, mischief filling his eyes, and never stops talking to Brody—like nothing’s happening, like all the air hasn’t been sucked through a tiny hole in the atmosphere leaving me panting. Something’s shifted. There’s no denying it. How can he act so cool? He has to feel it too.
