by Trisha Wolfe
On our way back to his truck, Holden walks beside me on the outside stretch. His hand brushes against mine. I glance down as he flexes his fingers and curls them into a fist. After last night, he promised to never touch me again.
And I let him promise it. Even if somewhere, with everything inside me fighting my feelings for him, and everything telling me that anything I could have with him is wrong . . . I don’t want him to keep that promise.
“Springfield.” I’m looking at our next destination on the map. I’ve been staring at it for the past ten minutes, dodging any kind of engaging conversation with Holden. “Almost five hours, but with the way you drive, I guess we’ll be there in three.”
He chuckles. “Not quite.” He glances over, and his lips tug into a sexy smirk. “But close.”
My stomach tumbles, and I berate myself (for the fiftieth time this morning) for nearly losing control last night.
And Tyler.
Something reaches inside and squeezes my heart. I wish he’d at least let me know he’s here, lingering in the background. I feel like at any moment, he’ll come back. But he hasn’t. Not yet. I’m so scared that he knows what happened between me and his brother and he’s left me for good. His last words confuse the hell out of me. Even if he knew I had feelings for Holden back then, that doesn’t warrant him claiming I’m still in love with him.
Where did that come from?
It hits me suddenly, and I feel like a moron. I can’t talk to Tyler, not right now. But I do have his thoughts. I pull out my paperback from underneath the seat and angle myself away from Holden.
“Must be a damn good book,” he says, peeking over at me.
A mix of shame and panic swirls within me. Shame that I can’t offer to drive some of this trip (him driving the whole way has to be getting old), and panic at what he’d say or do if he discovered the story I was actually losing myself in.
I shrug. “It’s a romance. One of my mom’s books.” Hoping that dampens his curiosity (what guy actually reads romance novels?), I hunker down in the seat. It works, and Holden shakes his head before reaching to turn the volume up on the stereo.
Pink’s Just Give Me a Reason blares out of the speakers. And I can’t help mentally singing along with the lyrics, my chest growing heavier with each word. They fit so perfectly for my and Holden’s . . . whatever it is that’s happening between us.
Shaking the chills away, I bury myself in Tyler’s journal.
Starting from the point where I left off, before I so brilliantly skipped ahead, I skim Tyler’s memories of middle school, a smile forming on my lips when I read about the time he took me to see Pirates of the Caribbean. According to his journal, he considered it a date. His first one. A tiny pebble of guilt forms in my stomach.
I’d thought we were only friends. Best friends, but just friends. After we became more, Tyler told me that he’d always harbored a secret crust on me when we were kids, but I never believed him. Not really. He’d always been a romantic, and I thought he just wanted our relationship to be even more special than it already was. He wasn’t falsifying, though. According to his written thoughts, he loved me. Even back then.
When I get to our freshman year, I stop skimming. I want to know when he suspected me of having feelings for his brother, and even if it’s painful, I want to understand how that affected him. How it affected us.
At some point back in middle school, he must have had suspicions, because by the time we entered ninth grade, he already knew. I feel my brow crease as I read over his bitter words.
“I could say something about Sam being into my brother, but honestly, I don’t want Holden to find out. Right now, she’s too shy to tell him. If I bring it up, what good would that shit do? Just make things uncomfortable between us.
Holden’s never looked at her once that way. But he’s starting to. And I’m starting to freak out. Sam’s not a little girl anymore. Every day I see how much she’s changing. Over the summer, her tits filled out, her ass looks amazing in a pair of jeans, and her hair’s longer. She’s sexy. And what’s worse, she’s Holden’s type. Fuck.
Maybe I should forge a permission slip to get a tattoo, or have Bobby give me a home one. Something to show her that I’m not just some lame ass jock. I know she cares about me. But as a friend. Holden has never showed her any interest until now, always caught up in his art.
Oh, and that’s another thing. Of course they’re both into art. The only time he ever talks to her it’s about their art projects at school. Or this or that about color palettes. Stuff I don’t get. I hate when he’s home and they get to talking about that shit.
He’s all punk rock and bad boy. That shit girls love, even Sam. She tries to play it off like she’s not into that type of guy, but I see the way she looks at him. It pisses me off, but what can I do? Just wait for her to notice how I feel, I guess.
But I swear, if Holden does find out, and he does anything . . . I’ll kick his ass. Sam’s always been mine. He can have any girl he wants. Why he doesn’t, I don’t know that, either. But he can’t have Sam. She’s the one thing that I’d fight my brother for. Even kill for.”
I force my eyes away from the page. Try to tell myself that it’s just thoughts. Everyone has to have an outlet, and Tyler’s home life was more strained than I ever knew. Of course he’d write things like this as a way to express his feelings. I mean, I paint some pretty dark and disturbing scenes when I get into a funk.
But I can’t help the unease that settles over me. Suddenly, the very romantic past that was our history—mine and Tyler’s—takes on a dark edge.
“Sam?” Holden’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I blink.
“Yeah?”
“Something bad happen in your book? You look ill.” He worries his lip ring between his teeth. “Are you getting sick again?”
I shake my head. “What? Oh, no.” I sit up and close the paperback. “Just zoning out. Not really even reading.” I can hear the discomfort in my voice. I don’t want him to be concerned about me, so I change the subject. “How long have we been driving?”
“Three hours. We’re in Missouri.”
“Holy shit. Really?” I look out the window at the green scenery. Flat land and lots of high yellow grass. Scattered trees and power lines. We pass an old-looking tire store, but otherwise, there’s not a lot out here. “You’re hauling ass.”
He laughs. “I think I’m getting impatient to get where we’re going.” His voice drops off at the end, like he didn’t realize what he was saying until it was out there.
No taking it back.
“Are you hungry or anything?” he asks, keeping his gaze on the highway. “We can stop for a while.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine, but if you need a break—”
“I’d rather drive straight through,” he says. “Long as you’re fine, I’m good to go.”
I nod and then look down at the book in my hands. I’m not ready to dive back into Tyler’s past. His feelings. They’re all-consuming and painful, and I’ve been on a constant emotional roller-coaster since this trip started.
“All right,” I say, digging out the leather CD case from under the seat. “Let’s unwind.”
HOLDEN
Sam’s idea of unwinding and my idea of unwinding are very different. I bite down on my lip ring, preventing myself from saying something asinine. I’d have made a joke yesterday. But not today. Not after last night. There’s nothing funny about last night. Just the images in my head that remind me of the small taste I’d gotten, and lost.
My fault, though. I’m the one who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Well, technically, I did. I would’ve stopped after she came. It would’ve been the most painful experience ever, and I’d still be carrying the blue balls to show for it—probably sitting on an icepack right now—but I would have stopped for her.
I know she’s not ready to take things that far. I wouldn’t have pressed her for anything more. But hell, if she’d have asked m
e to take her in the throes of passion, I’d have ripped off my pants and there’d been no stopping me then.
Best it ended when it did.
Fuck. I lower my lashes and glimpse the hard-on tenting my jeans. And then I peek at her. She’s invested in finding something to listen to, so I shift my weight and tug my waistband, alleviating the pressure in my pants.
I really need to stop thinking about her. In any way.
One thought sobers me and wilts me faster than a cold shower ever could. And I know I’m going to regret asking her, but I need to know. To be able to bury what happened between us for good. “Sam?”
“Huh?” She doesn’t look up from her music search.
“I know this subject has been closed. And I promise, after you answer me one thing, I won’t ever bring it up again.” I glance over. She’s still, a curtain of her hair blocking my view of her face. “But I need to know what exactly . . .” I trail off, trying to find the right words. There are none. I blurt it out. “What made you stop?”
She flips the sleeve and continues to look over the CDs. I think she’s not going to answer or even acknowledge my question, then, “I didn’t see him. If that’s what you’re asking.”
A rush of air leaves my mouth in a relieved exhale. It’s what I’ve been wondering ever since she said my brother’s name. Even though his ghost is all in her mind, the thought that she saw him watching us—while we were at it—turns my stomach.
But now that she’s admitted that’s not what happened, I’m wondering more shit. I’m probably reading too much into it. She loves my brother. He died. She’s suffering some form of psychosis from guilt or an inability to deal, and I’m her ghost boyfriend’s brother. Not just his brother, but the guy who treated her like dirt. So yeah. All those things combined, she’s justified for having a moment of guilt and stopping it.
“All right,” I say. “That is what I wanted to know. And I’m glad that—”
“That what, Holden?” Her head whips up and she looks at me. I quickly check out her tense frame, her eyes narrowed and hurt. “Glad that he didn’t see? Or that you got as far as you did with me? You know what? Let’s just not. If you really want to know, I haven’t seen Tyler since we first walked into that hotel room back in Memphis.”
“As far as I got with you? You think that’s all I’m out for?”
“Drop it. We’re not going there.” She crosses her arms over her chest, shutting down the conversation.
Where the hell did that come from? I’m glad we’re able to talk about it, which sounds stupid now. Real stupid.
“Fine.” I feel my eyebrows draw together. “But look, I know I said I wouldn’t talk about this either”—I angle my body so I can see her better from my peripheral—“but don’t you . . . I mean. Somewhere inside your mind, you have to be wondering if it’s really happening. If it’s not just in your head.” I blow out a heavy breath. “Shit, Sam. If it were me? I’d have asked myself that. I think any sane person would ask themself that at least once.”
And, oh, my shit. Her face blazes redder with every dumb word I say. When I finally shut up, I brace myself against the clutch, ready to drop the truck into neutral if she launches herself at me. I wouldn’t blame her if she did.
“You think I haven’t asked myself that?” Her chest heaves, and she’s clutching the CD case like she is about to launch that at my head.
I shrug. “Okay. But have you asked yourself that lately?”
“You asshole.”
“What? Don’t you think that since you’ve left home and gone on this trip, it’s strange how you’re seeing my brother less and less?” I should stop. But hell, there’s no holding back now. “Think about it, Sam.”
“Fuck you.” She tosses the case on the floorboard and unbuckles her seatbelt.
“What the hell are you—?” I cut short as she grips the door handle. “Sam—”
The door cracks open. “I have to get away from you!”
“Shit!” I glance in my rearview, then slam down on the brake and clutch at the same time that I reach out and grab her arm.
The tires squeal and the backend fishtails before we come to a stop. Releasing her arm as she yanks out of my hold, I move to grip the gearshift. “Fuck.” I shift into neutral and pull the e-brake. “Are you—?”
“Crazy?” Her eyes widen and she laughs. “I guess so. At least I’m accepting it. Isn’t that what you want? You want me to admit that I’m nuts so you can have a clear conscience to fuck me?”
I’m breathing hard, my hand gripping the shifter knob so tightly my arm shakes and my knuckles turn white. My gaze drifts over her and lands on the tree tat on her wrist as the echo of her words punch me in the gut. I open my mouth to say something, but she laughs and shakes her head.
“Fuck this,” she bites out under her breath and throws the door open.
“Where the hell are you going?”
She doesn’t bother to respond. Just reaches behind the seat and grabs her pack, then slams the door.
Fuck! I bang my head against the back windshield and release a deep growl through clenched teeth. How did this happen? I run through the conversation again, trying to figure out where it went wrong. It’s like she plucked her last statement out of the thin fucking air and threw it in my face.
But even as I’m thinking that, I realize the truth. She’s been holding on to it for a long time. I lead her to believe I only wanted to screw her back in the day. And even though we’ve been cordial on this trip, and we’ve tried to bury that shit like we were just kids and it doesn’t affect us now . . . it does. And I just gave her the opportunity to unleash her pent up frustration. I pressed her while she’s wound tight over last night, and she fired off her reserve ammunition. It completely blindsided me.
Through the windshield, I watch as Sam walks backward, her arm outstretched, thumb up. My anger skyrockets. I can feel my blood pressure rising, building behind my eyes. I scrub my hands down my face and unleash a harsh curse into my palms.
With a deep breath, I suck up my pride and open the truck door. She can rail at me as much as she wants—as much as she needs. Just as long as she does it from inside the truck.
I sink my hands into my pockets and swallow the distance between us in long strides. A few feet from her, I say, “Will you please get back in the truck?”
Her gaze is fixed on the highway, her feet moving backward, carrying her away from me. “I was trying to let last night go. Just pretend it didn’t happen, Holden.”
I nod. “I know.”
“But you won’t let it go.” Her eyes cut to me before she returns to watching the road. There aren’t many cars on this highway, and the ones that do pass—all two of them—pass without a thought of stopping. “I can’t continue on like this. It’s just too much. I messed up, and I don’t want Tyler disappearing into that dark limbo because of me. I owe him more than that . . . than this.” She waves her hands around.
Before I open my mouth, I go over my words in my head. Make sure they don’t sound stupid before I spit them out. “Would it help if I told you something? Something that might help your conscience?”
And with that, she stops walking. Her arm lowers and she looks at me. We stand staring at each other, a mere foot between us, before she answers. “To be honest, I’m kind of terrified to learn any more secrets.”
I nod once, hard. Understandable. I wish I could wipe my mind clean with a giant can of white paint. Just start over. “All right. Then how about this? I don’t want to fuck you.”
She flinches at my words and harsh tone.
I take in a breath, building my courage. “Last night? That was all me, okay? I take full responsibly, and none of it is your fault.” I hold her gaze, making sure she sees the truth in my eyes. “You did nothing wrong, and because Tyler knew about us before”—I motion between us—“and blamed me the first time, rest assured, he’ll do so again.” I can’t believe I’m giving into her crazy, but I need her to get past this. “He
knew about our kiss, and he never blamed you. Now,” I say, my feet eating the last bit of distance between us. “I’m the bad guy. You can get your sweet little ass back in the truck.”
I look down at her, and she swallows. “I just want him back.” Her lips tremble, and my heart constricts.
“I know,” I say. “I know. I do, too.” I release a heavy breath. “And I never wanted to do anything to hurt him or you. Not then, and not now. But I’m a selfish bastard. I would’ve fucked you six ways from Sunday, and I would’ve loved every second of it.”
Her body tenses, and a flash of something covers her eyes before a fleeting smile tugs at her lips. But she schools her face quickly.
“I’m a guy.” I shrug. “I come with the equipment, ready and willing, to fuck at the ready. Don’t put too much thought into it.”
This gets a full smile. My heart lightens. “I’m pretty selfish, too,” she says. “I wanted . . .” She shakes her head. “I don’t know. Maybe a moment of not knowing. Not feeling. If that makes sense.”
A pang hits my chest. Being with me, for her, is only a way to forget all her pain. Last night wouldn’t have been a step for us, it would’ve been a time out for her. I press my lips together and nod. “I get that.”
A tear slips down her face, and it’s my undoing. I promised her I’d never touch her, but dammit. I can’t stop my hand from reaching out and cupping her cheek, running my thumb over the clear trail it leaves behind.
She sucks in a sniff and nods against my hand. “Let’s go.”
Walking back, I know that only half of what I told her was the truth. I don’t want to fuck her. I want to own her. Every last bit of her, I want to make mine. I want to do so much more than just be with her.
After we’re buckled in and heading down the highway, leaving our wreckage behind us, I hear Sam whisper, “You’re not the bad guy.”
I want to believe her.
SAM
By the time we hit downtown Springfield, I feel so far removed from my home, my life . . . myself . . . that the anger I felt back on the highway, and all the shame and self-loathing of last night, seem to be a distant memory, rather than mere hours ago.
