by Jenny Hayut
“Kilo didn’t play well with the other dogs, so I’m staying at Holt’s for a while. Until we can figure out what else to do.”
Cass’s voice reveals her excitement. “Has Holt found Doc C yet? And have you heard any more from that yucky Vinnie person?”
“No, Doc’s still out there somewhere and hopefully okay, and no, Vinnie hasn’t called again. Thank God for that.”
Her questions remind me that I haven’t asked Holt in a few days about his search for Doc. I look up to see Holt walking back to the car with what looks like a lot more than the items on my list.
“Holt’s coming back. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She laughs. “Okay, honey. Love you. And remember, everything on the table, baby.” Cass, the ever-hopeful.
I’m hanging up as the back door squeaks open, and Holt starts shoving bag after bag into the backseat. A lot more than just coffee, cereal, and milk.
Holt sees my stare and grins. “I told you. Energy...you need it.”
My cheeks warm with the memory. Yep, the suitcase has confused him.
****
It’s two AM, and I’m tossing and turning again. I’m in Holt’s bed, with Kilo sleeping peacefully at my feet, and Holt’s back on the cramped couch. I lie there for a while, trying to work out if he’s awake by the sound of his breathing.
“Holt?” I finally call out.
“Yeah, babe.”
“You awake?”
“Yeah, I’m awake,” he mumbles and then grunts as the creaking sound of the springs in the couch fill the silence in the room.
Somehow, in the middle of the night, in the dark, I have the courage to ask the questions I don’t during daylight.
“Why do you bother smoking cigarettes?” I blurt out. “I mean, it doesn’t look like you smoke that much, and you really shouldn’t at all. It’s not good for you, so why bother?”
Nothing. Quiet.
Then, “They relax me when I’m out of control. Like with that shit today... But you’re right. Wanna give me something else to help me relax?”
I suck in a breath. Still feeling brave and totally ignoring his invitation, I ask. “Do I make you lose control?”
“Yeah, babe, the shit you do, the shit I can’t control, yeah.”
The air in the room suddenly becomes heavy. I don’t want to hear anymore. My body can’t take it. He leaves it at that, thankfully, not saying another word. I try to get back to sleep, but it’s impossible, because my mind is wandering, taking me back to the first night of his return to Coral Springs. He was smoking a cigarette as we drove away that night.
Damn.
I go from thinking of Holt losing control because of me to Kilo’s unfortunate situation. Suddenly it hits me smack upside the head. Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of it before?
“Holt. Holt, you still awake?”
Silence.
“Holt, wake up. I just thought of something that might work for Kilo.”
Finally, he answers groggily. I hear him mumble, “Do you ever sleep?”
I laugh under my breath. Sleeping in his bed, knowing he’s half-naked less than five feet away...sleep kind of stops happening.
“I think I just figured out how to help Kilo! Do you remember me talking about my Aunt Helen, the one in Atlanta? Well, I’m pretty sure she would love to have Kilo come stay with her until you can, um, figure out...what to do with him.”
I don’t know his plans, so I feel kind of stupid as I stumble over my words.
“So what do you think? Wanna give it a try?”
“Okay, babe, that’s good,” he mutters, half asleep.
“Great! I’ll call her in the morning to see if she’s okay with it and maybe we can take him up this weekend?”
“Okay,” is all he says and then it sounds as if he’s gone back to sleep. The relief that comes with hopefully having solved Kilo’s loneliness relaxes me, and sleep finds me. I doze off, dreaming of a man standing beside a beautiful classic car, smoking a cigarette...
****
I can’t get to the phone fast enough. I’m sure Aunt Helen is going to love my plan. “So how would like to have some company of the four-legged variety?”
“You know me, sweetheart, always willing to help out. What do you have in mind?”
She’s just like me: a huge heart when it comes to animals. Back when I’d decided I was going to become a vet, she was overjoyed, and she helped me every step of the way. She encouraged me to go back to Coral Springs, where the only veterinary program in our area was. She was there clapping when I received my license to practice veterinary medicine.
“Kilo is a beaut. Sadly, he spends most of his days cooped up in a dark and dreary motel room. I tried to bring him to the hospital to stay with the other dogs in the kennel but it didn’t work out. Seems he’s a loner.”
Much like his owner.
“So who owns him? Who leaves him in that room all day like that?”
I wish I didn’t have to tell her, but it’s inevitable.
“He works during the day, and he’s out a lot, so he doesn’t have a choice.”
“Is this somebody you know? Are you doing someone a favor then?”
“Kilo belongs to Holt.”
I wait for it.
“That fella you had something with before?”
I sneak a glance over at Holt. He’s still sitting on the bed, reclined and watching television. I know precisely the road this conversation is about to go down, and with Holt in the room, I can’t say the things I need to say.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Hmm. So tell me, this man of yours, Holt, is he coming with you?”
God, here we go. Her excitement, the anticipation of meeting Holt, it’s in her voice.
“Aunt Helen, he’s not my—”
Shit. Holt can hear...
“Yes, he’s coming with me,” I whisper.
“Good. Good. So you two must stay the weekend. I’ll fix all your favorites, baby, and you can show him around town.”
I sigh, because I know it’s pointless to try to tell her no. I try anyway. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, and it’s not like that with— I can’t answer for...him.”
“I’d love to stay, Aunt Helen.”
I jerk my head to Holt, who’s grinning his ass off, though he’s still seemingly watching TV. A drag race, by the sound of it.
She hears him, and of course that sets her off, giggling in my ear. Good grief. I know what she’s got on her mind. Grandbabies.
“Okay, so I’ll see you Friday night. I’ll call you when we’re on the road. Love you.” I quickly hang up before she can go any further.
****
Thanks to the threat of Vinnie, the last three days bunkering down with Holt and all sixty pounds of Kilo in the small confines of his room has taken its toll. I’m desperate for a home-cooked meal, a decent shower, and a non-lumpy bed.
While Holt’s in the shower, I’m packing my bags for our drive to Atlanta. I can’t help but be excited at knowing all those things are waiting for me there. But knowing my dream-filled Aunt Helen is waiting…it’s going to suck for me too. My tension builds at the thought of Holt running with every possible encouragement Aunt Helen will throw his way. She hasn’t even met him and only knows what little I shared with her before, but I’m certain she’s convinced herself we’re back together and that he’s destined to be the father of her grandbabies.
In an attempt to avoid Holt wandering out of the shower, wet and naked, I slip outside to put my bags in the car. As I lift the trunk, something catches my eye in the back corner, tucked partially under a wool blanket. I glance at the door to see if Holt is coming outside before letting my curiosity take over. With no sign of him, I quickly lift the blanket to find an old beat-up guitar case. I suck in a breath as I imagine that the guitar Holt played that night at The Rox is inside. My heart pounds as visions of him on stage flood my mind. His voice, his words then later his touch, his mouth...
I lean against Sex on Wheels to text Cass. I promised her I’d let her know when we were heading out. Even though there haven’t been any other phone calls from Vinnie since the day I spoke to him at the hospital, we all have our guard up, afraid he could just show up the way Holt said he would.
Up against the fender, I’m thinking about Doc C when the door creaks open and the two of them bustle out. The sound of his footsteps faltering makes me lift my head, only to see him standing there, Kilo in tow, watching me. He doesn’t move for a moment, and I panic. Is he seeing something or someone behind me? I slowly twist my head to look behind me. Nothing.
When I turn back, Holt is still standing there, but there’s a look in his eye now that makes me shiver.
Shit.
He pulls on Kilo’s leash, and they carry on to the car. He opens the back door, and Kilo jumps in, wagging his tail. As Kilo sprawls out across the backseat, Holt shuts the door and closes the distance between us. He leans in, dropping his arm to rest on the fender next to my hip. I catch my breath. This is the closest he’s been to me in days. I panic.
“Babe.”
He sucks in a breath, and I stiffen as he raises his hand and grazes my temple with a finger, slowly tracing my jaw line, where he stops. He lingers there, and my heart is pounding in my throat, my skin tingling from his touch.
“Those nights without you. All I had was my dreams, baby. Taking you up against this car was one of them. You standing like this right now...can’t help but want to make it a reality.”
His words penetrate me as my body trembles with desire. “Holt—”
He pulls away from me, but trails his fingertip low, to the center of my neck and traces it on my skin before pulling away. “Your silence speaks volumes.”
I let out the breath I was holding and quickly move away from him, walking around the other side to get in.
The tension in the air is even more apparent thanks to the silence between us as we drive to Atlanta. The only sound is the radio in the background. Nothing new from Holt, as he wasn’t much of a talker before. Said what he needed to say, and that was it. I discovered that about him that very first night...
Sitting on my barstool with Cass beside me, I watched as he walked in our direction and tried my best not to show the anxiety building in me. As he reached the space next to me, he leaned against the bar and held his finger up to get the bartender’s attention. I remember thinking right then, my heart plummeting, I’d been mistaken. He was only coming over to get a drink.
But then he ordered a Stella, the beer I’d been slowly sipping on. I perked back up.
As the bartender brought it over, he turned and handed the bottle to me. “You looked thirsty, babe.”
That was the first time he took my breath away.
He didn’t say anything after that. But he didn’t move. Just stood there looking out into the crowd. Him that close, I was a wreck. I had no clue what to say or do.
Cass finally spoke. “I’m Cass, and this is Niki.”
He spoke to me then, not even looking at Cass. “Is that short for Nicole?”
“No, Nicolette. But everyone just calls me Niki.”
The corner of his mouth rose in a grin that was almost my undoing. “Nicolette suits you better, babe.”
And so began our short-lived three months of pure bliss.
****
Holt turns the radio up, jarring me from my memories. I recognize the song that fills the air. One of Holt’s favorites. Billy Squier’s Lonely is the Night. The music he listens to is much like his car. Classic. A lot of Styx, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Molly Hatchett, Allman Brothers—that’s all he listened to before, and it seems his taste in music hasn’t changed. I lie back and let the memories of us together like this take over. With him and his music. In a time when I was happy, free of any self-doubt, and in love.
It’s not a very long ride, just under an hour, and with Holt setting his own speed limit, we’re there in no time.
The colonial two-story farmhouse where I spent my teenage years is set quite a distance off the road. On the outskirts of Atlanta, it is three acres of untouched farmland—a welcoming break from the hustle and bustle of the city. With its row of century-old oak trees draped with Spanish moss, and its white, weathered wooden fence lining the length of the drive, it’s the picture of southern charm and hospitality. Perfect place for a scared fourteen-year-old kid.
As we pull into the drive, nothing more than a dirt pathway from the main road all the way up to the house, Sex on Wheels blows up dust all around us, announcing our arrival. The house is now in sight, and Aunt Helen is standing at the front door, waiting to greet us. At fifty-two, my father’s baby sister is the epitome of a strong, independent woman.
Her long black hair is still tucked into the tight bun she’s worn since I was a child, though sunlight gleams off strands of gray, and she’s as petite as ever, with a waist so tiny it’s as if she wears a corset. I used to joke with her that she could’ve been an extra in Gone with the Wind.
The familiar smells of jasmine and honeysuckle fill the air.
Holt turns to me. “Hmm, nice place to grow up.”
I’m caught up in my senses, the feelings of warmth, of love, of security this home and my aunt have always given me. “Yes, it was. I was lucky to have her, and all this, when Dad died.”
From the corner of my eye, I see his face turned to me, and I’m sure I’m imagining it, but it almost looks as if his eyes are glistening. As I reach out to let my hand brush against the moss-filled branches, I flash back to the happy memories I have here. I shiver, though, when I begin to think maybe Holt is having thoughts of his own childhood.
As we get out of the car, Holt turns and lifts the seat to let Kilo out, and he immediately bolts, running in the direction of the pasture behind the house. Poor boy. I know that’s something he’s been dying to do. Just run.
Aunt Helen, with an apron covering her gingham dress—she’s been cooking, and all day I bet—bolts toward me as if she hadn’t seen me in years instead of the four weeks since I last came.
As she reaches me, she lunges into my arms, hugs me tight then pulls back, taking me in with a smile. “Honey, I do believe you’re even prettier than the last time you came to see me. You’re glowing, sweetheart, and I can only imagine this handsome young man here has something to do with that!”
Dear God. Already.
She turns to Holt then and introduces herself, giving him a hug, which, I think, shocks him, but he doesn’t resist, putting his arms around her, embracing her.
As she pulls away, he gives her that delectable smile that’s enough to make anyone squirm. “Pleasure to meet you. You’re as beautiful as Nicolette’s description.”
She’s blushing. Yep, every fucking woman. No matter the age, he has this effect on them. “So pleased to meet you, my dear.” I can tell by the glimmer in her eye that she isn’t wasting any time. We haven’t even made it in the door yet, and she’s already naming our kids in her head.
Maybe her outspoken nature this weekend won’t be so bad. Maybe it will scare Holt off. He absolutely never struck me the marrying or parenthood type.
Still, the thought of a little Holt running around flashes in my head and makes me giggle. Oh great, I just laughed out loud. I catch their eyes on me, watching me intently, and my cheeks burn.
Damn it.
“Well, let’s get your bags in,” Aunt Helen says, walking around to the trunk and reaching for my suitcase.
Holt puts his hand on her arm to stop her and pulls them all out himself, hauling them up to the porch, while my admiring aunt stands back and watches. As we walk in the door, Holt whis
tles for Kilo. I’m certain he isn’t coming back anytime soon, but to my amazement, he bustles in as the screen door closes. Yet another testament to the control that pours off this man—that is, unless he’s smoking a cigarette...
The smell of Aunt Helen’s cooking hits us as we walk in.
“Dear, show your— I mean, show Holt where the bathroom is. You two get freshened up. Dinner is ready.” She gives me another squeeze then leaves us as she makes her way to the kitchen. Just as the door swings closed, her head pops back out. “Oh, and your room is all made up for the two of you, if you want to put your bags up.”
No, she didn’t. Damn it.
“Um, Holt will be stay in the guest room downstairs, Aunt Helen.”
I don’t dare look at Holt, but I hear him chuckle, and when Aunt Helen lets out a giggle and says, “Okay, dear, whatever you say,” I can see right then what I’m going to be dealing with all weekend. Great.
I grab my bags from the floor and practically run to the stairs. As I reach the bottom step, I turn to Holt, who’s still laughing.
“Guest room is down the hall. Bathroom is the last door on the right.”
I don’t wait for a response as I make my way up to my room and toss my bags across my bed. I’m halfway back down the steps when I stop at the sight of Holt standing in the hallway, tilting his head up to look at the school pictures Aunt Helen has displayed along the wall.
His eyes are fixed on the picture of me when I was fourteen, my first year here, and he traces his finger along my face. Jesus. I don’t even have to look at that picture to remember what I looked like. From my stringy hair that I didn’t bother trying to fix that day, to my “animals rock” t-shirt to my pale solemn face, that picture said it all. Trying to fit in. Missing my daddy. Lonely.
Damn it. Should’ve thought of the pictures. Should’ve called Aunt Helen on the way to tell her to hide them all. She would’ve thought that was weird though, and it would’ve forced me to share more details about Holt then I wanted to.
I pretend not to catch Holt looking at the pictures, stealing a glimpse at a part of me I didn’t give him permission to see. I just about stomp down the rest of the stairs to let him know I’m coming. He hears me and breaks away from the wall, coming over to join me at the stairs.
