Holding On

by Allie Everhart

  "And yet he asked you to stay and watch fireworks with him. And watch TV."

  "Because he's bored, and he admitted he's lonely. By the way, don't tell anyone I said that. He doesn't want people knowing. I need to stop telling you this stuff."

  "You know I'd never tell anyone."

  "I know, but I feel like I'm betraying his trust when I tell you what he said."

  "So you care about him," Mike says.

  "Well, yeah. I mean, he's a nice guy when he wants to be. Other times he's a jerk, but I don't think he means to be. I think he's just stressed because he's not sure what's happening with his football career. And it sounds like his dad gives him a hard time."

  Mike turns to me and smiles. "You really like this guy."

  "I do not," I insist. "At least not in the way you're thinking."

  "Then why are you being so defensive?"

  "I'm not being defensive." And yet I can hear my defensive tone. I decide to fess up. "Okay, fine. You're right. There's an attraction there, but that's true for every girl in town. Ethan is hot. A girl can't help but be attracted to him."

  "So what are you going to do about it?"

  "Nothing. We'll just continue being friends."

  "Meaning you'll see him outside of work? What day do you clean for him? Thursdays?"

  "Yeah." I pause. "But he wants to see me before then."

  Mike nods, knowingly.

  "What? What's that look for?"

  "You and Ethan. I have a feeling this is going to turn into something."

  "It's not going to turn into anything. We're friends. That's it. He just wants someone to talk to. When his football buddies get back in a few weeks for practice, Ethan will forget all about me."

  "We'll see about that." Mike faces the TV again.

  "You're so annoying," I say, nudging his side.

  "That's my job. To annoy my kid sister."

  I lay my head on his shoulder and yawn, my eyes on the TV. "What are we watching?"

  "Nothing. There's not much on."

  I lift my head to his. "How was the podcast?"

  "Great. I got a lot of positive feedback. I'll post another one tomorrow."

  "So you want me to get out of here? Give you privacy?"

  "You don't have to." He grins. "Unless you're looking for an excuse to see Ethan."

  I would like to see him again but is tomorrow too soon? I could stop by with food so I'd have an excuse.

  "Maybe I will. Just to prove to you we're friends and nothing more."

  "Uh huh." Mike chuckles. "Whatever you need to tell yourself."

  I sigh and rest my head on his shoulder again. "You need to get a girlfriend so I can tease you as badly as you tease me."

  Mike hasn't dated anyone since Tricia left. He's a good-looking guy so I know he could get a girl but he hasn't even tried.

  He doesn't respond to my comment. I sit back and look at him.

  "Why aren't you saying anything?" I hold his arm. "Wait. Are you dating someone and you didn't tell me?"

  "No," he says in a serious tone.

  "Then what is it?"

  He picks his phone up from the coffee table. "She texted me."

  "Who? Tricia?"

  It's a dumb question. I know he means Tricia. I'm just surprised because she hasn't contacted him since she took off. She left a goodbye note but that was it. He doesn't even know where she lives.

  He shows me the text, which reads, I was thinking about you. I hope you're doing okay.

  "That's it?" I ask. "That's all she wrote?"

  "That's it." He takes his phone back.

  The text pisses me off, but I don't tell Mike that. I'm sure to him the text means she cares. That she's still thinking about him. Maybe even that she might come back.

  Why would she do that? Why would she get his hopes up like that? She has to know he still loves her. He probably always will, but he needs to move on, and her sending that text will send him back to the past. Now he'll be constantly checking his phone, seeing if she texts him again. Or waiting for her to call. Or hoping she'll show up at the door.

  What a manipulative bitch. I can't believe she did that. She doesn't care about Mike. If she did, she wouldn't have left him. She didn't care enough to stick around and help him when he needed it, which means her text was just her way of forcing him to think about her. Reminding him that she's out there somewhere, pretending to care about him when she really doesn't. That's just mean.

  "Did you text her back?" I ask.

  "No." He sighs. "And I don't know if I will."

  "I'm thinking you shouldn't." I hope my tone doesn't reflect how angry I am. If I express my anger toward Tricia, Mike will stick up for her, just like he does when I say stuff about Mom. I don't know if it's the soldier in him or the fact that he's just overly nice, but for whatever reason, Mike always feels the need to defend those who are being attacked, even if they're in the wrong. And Tricia is definitely in the wrong.

  "I know I shouldn't respond to her," he says, "but part of me really wants to. I want to know how she's doing."

  Damn Tricia. Why couldn't she just leave him alone? He's been doing great the past few months. He hasn't even talked about her. And now, he's thinking about her again, feeling sad and depressed.

  We sit there quietly, me stewing with anger over that text, and Mike longing to see her again, wishing she'd come back. I wish he could see that she's not the girl for him. Yes, they have a long history, but a girl who leaves the guy she supposedly loves when he's injured, both emotionally and physically, needing her more than ever, is not the girl he needs in his life. Mike is too good of a person. He deserves better.

  "Part of me still loves her," he says, staring at the TV.

  "I know." I loop my arm in his, my head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mike. I'm sorry things didn't work out."

  "I am too."

  He needs to meet someone else. Someone who can see what an incredible person he is. Someone who's just as kind and compassionate as he is, who can share his passion for helping others.

  "You can go to bed," he says. "I'm going to stay up a little longer."

  "Why don't we find a movie to watch? I'm not really tired enough to sleep."

  Actually, I can barely keep my eyes open, but I don't want Mike sitting here all alone, thinking about Tricia. And I definitely don't want him having a weak moment and texting her back, or calling her. Doing so would just give her what she wants. To know that Mike is still thinking about her, wanting her back. She doesn't deserve that. The best thing he could do is ignore her text, and if she sends another, to ignore that one too.

  We fall asleep on the couch, then wake to piercing, high-pitched sounds blaring all around us.

  Mike bursts from the couch, holding his hand out to me. "It's the fire alarms. C'mon. Let's get out of here."

  "I'm sure it's not a real fire," I say, scrambling to find my shoes. At least we're still in the clothes we wore last night instead of pajamas.

  "We don't know if there's a fire or not so hurry up." He's already at the door, wide awake and looking like he's ready for the day, his short dark hair neatly in place. As for me? I can't get to a mirror but I'm assuming I'm a mess with smeared makeup and tangled hair. I use my fingers to try to brush it out.

  "Are you seriously worried about your hair right now?" Mike says as we go out in the hall.

  "It's a mess," I tell him, still trying to detangle the knots.

  He holds my arm and leads me to the stairwell. "Nobody cares how your hair looks. It's not like you're going to run into your boyfriend when we get outside."

  "Ethan's not my boyfriend." I shoot him a look to stop teasing me.

  He grins. "I was just talking generically, but it's interesting your mind immediately went to Ethan."

  "That doesn't mean anything."

  Shit, maybe it does. Why did I assume he meant Ethan?

  Once outside, we join up with our fellow tenants, most of whom are in their pajamas and bathrobes.
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  "I don't see any smoke," I say.

  "I don't either. Maybe it was just a false alarm."

  "See? We should've stayed in the apartment."

  "You can't risk it. If it's a real fire, you don't want to end up trapped in the building."

  I check the back pocket of my jeans. "Crap, I forgot my phone. Do you have yours?"

  "No. I left it on the table."

  I turn to him. "You didn't text her back, did you? Last night? After I fell asleep? You didn't text her, did you?"

  "No. But I wanted to." He seems sad, and I hate seeing him sad. He's almost never sad, but then one stupid text from Tricia brings his mood down.

  "You need to delete her text. Otherwise you'll keep reading it and be tempted to text her back."

  "I'm not ready to delete it. But I will. Eventually I will."

  It infuriates me that she has so much power over him, even all these months later. And that she has power over me. Her actions are the reason I'm here, living in this town, living with Mike. If it weren't for her, I'd still be in nursing school.

  A half hour later, we're still standing outside. We were told there wasn't a fire but the firemen still have to go through and check the building, which takes forever.

  "Do you have the time?" someone asks Mike. I look over and see a woman with blond hair and a very fit body, wearing yoga pants and a white tank. She's probably 25 or 26.

  Mike does a double take. She's pretty and he noticed. That's a good sign. It shows he's over Tricia enough to be attracted to other girls.

  "Sorry, I don't have my phone," he says.

  "You have a watch," I tell him. Apparently he forgot about the sports watch on his wrist. Is it because this girl has captured his attention? I wonder who she is. I haven't seen her before.

  "Oh. That's right." He smiles like a nervous school boy encountering a cute girl. I've never seen him act this way. He's always so sure of himself. He checks his watch. "It's eight-thirty."

  "Thanks." She smiles and extends her hand to him. "I'm Heather."

  "Mike." He shakes her hand. "And this is my sister..." He glances at me like he forgot my name. Seriously?

  "Becca," I say, shaking her hand. "Did you just move in?"

  "Last week. I moved here for a job. I'm a nurse at the hospital. I work on the burn unit."

  A nurse. So she takes care of people. Wants to help people. Sounds like Mike.

  "Becca's studying to be a nurse," Mike says.

  "Oh, yeah?" Heather forces her eyes back to me but keeps glancing at Mike. She's definitely interested in him.

  "I took classes for a year and a half," I tell her, "but I'm taking a break right now. I'll finish up later."

  "What school?"

  "It's a community college in Cincinnati." I always act embarrassed when I say that, like it's not a real school because they don't hand out bachelor degrees. But I shouldn't be that way, especially since I say I don't care what people think. When I finally graduate, I'll still be getting a degree and I should be proud of that.

  "And how about you?" she asks Mike. "What do you do?"

  "Still figuring that out," he says with a nervous laugh. Wow. He must really like her if he's still feeling nervous around her. She is really cute and has a great body. Mike loves working out and she obviously does too, so these two would get along great.

  "He has a podcast," I say. "It's really popular. He gets thousands of views."

  "What's it about?" she asks him.

  "It's for veterans. I talk about PTSD, adjusting to civilian life after being deployed, how to get used to life with a prosthetic." He glances down at his leg. He's wearing cargo shorts so you can't help but notice his prosthetic and yet I don't think Heather did until he pointed it out.

  "That happened overseas?" She sounds genuinely interested and concerned. Most people don't even ask. It makes them too uncomfortable.

  "A bomb went off in our camp." His voice is flat, stoic. He's detached all emotion from the event. It's the only way he can deal with it. "I was the only survivor."

  "I'm so sorry." She touches his arm. "I don't know how you guys do it. How you put yourself in danger like that."

  "It's what I always wanted to do. Now that I can't, I've gotta figure out something else."

  She puts her hand back at her side. "I'd love to see your podcast. Can you send me the link?"

  "Sure." He pats his pockets. "I don't have anything to write down your info."

  "I'm in apartment six. You can just stop down sometime. Or I can come to your place."

  "I'll stop by. But just so know, we're in apartment twenty-eight. Second floor." He gets that nervous smile again. "So when's a good time to come over?"

  "I have to be at work in an hour but I have tomorrow morning off if you want to come by then. Or I'll be home all day Friday. That's my day off. Stop by anytime. I'll just be putting stuff away. I still haven't unpacked all the boxes."

  "The building is cleared for re-entry," a man says through a megaphone.

  "Guess that's our cue to go," Mike says, still staring at Heather. He hasn't taken his eyes off her this whole time. "It was nice meeting you. I'll stop by tomorrow."

  "Looking forward to it." She waves at me. "Nice meeting you, Becca."

  "You too."

  Walking back up the stairs, I start laughing.

  "What's so funny?" Mike asks.

  "You met a girl. And you were nervous."

  "I wasn't nervous."

  "You were totally nervous. Like you were back in junior high."

  "You're exaggerating."

  We arrive at our apartment and go inside.

  "It makes sense." I follow Mike to the kitchen. "You dated Tricia for years. You're out of practice when it comes to dating someone new. Or did you date anyone when you two were apart? You never told me."

  "I dated a few girls."

  "But it didn't turn into anything."

  "No. My heart was with Tricia. But I'm not out of practice when it comes to girls. And I wasn't nervous just now."

  "Whatever you say." I laugh.

  He just shakes his head but he's got a smile on his face, which he didn't have last night after getting that text. This Heather girl came along at just the right time. She's exactly what Mike needs right now. A distraction to keep his mind off Tricia. And maybe Heather will become more than that.

  Just like Ethan and I may become more than friends. I doubt it, and yet part of me would like to be more than friends with him.

  Chapter Nine

  Ethan

  I never date a girl long enough to get to the stage where I miss her when she's not around, which is why I find it concerning that I miss Becca. I'm not even dating her and yet I miss her. She was just here last night. How could I miss her already? Is it because I'm in desperate need of company? Or is it because I really like her?

  It's obvious I like her. I can't stop thinking about her. In fact, I was up half the night thinking about her, and yes, some of those thoughts weren't entirely wholesome. Not even close. But shit, she's hot. Of course I'm going to think those things about her.

  When I said goodbye to her last night, I almost kissed her, and I would have if I wasn't stuck in this stupid chair. I could've pushed myself out of it and tried to balance on my good leg but that would've been awkward and could've resulted in me falling down, which would've made for a horrible first kiss. If I kiss her, it needs to be a hell of a lot better than that.

  I've been debating whether or not she even wanted me to kiss her. I think she did, but I'm not entirely sure. It's hard to tell with her. I'm used to having girls be overly aggressive, making it abundantly clear they want to be with me. But with Becca, I can't really tell. She didn't flirt with me last night, but she did let me hold her hand. I take that as a sign she would've been receptive to a kiss.

  Why am I obsessing over this? I mean, seriously, when have I ever obsessed over kissing a girl? I never even think about it. I just do it.

  I stare at my pho
ne, wondering if I should call her. It's noon so maybe she's out doing something. I could just call to say hi. But will that make me look desperate? Like I'm dying to see her again, despite seeing her just a few hours ago?

  Before I change my mind, I call her.

  "Ethan?" She sounds surprised.

  "Hey. How's it going?"

  "Good. What's up?"

  "Not much. So what are you doing today?"

  "I'm not sure yet. I'll probably clean the apartment. Do some laundry." She laughs. I like her laugh. "I told you I don't have a very exciting life."

  "It's more exciting than mine. I don't even leave the house."

  Shit. Why did I say that? It just reinforces how pathetic I've become, hiding out in this house all the time.

  There's awkward silence and then we speak at the same time, not hearing what each other said.

  We both stop, then Becca says, "You first."

  "I was just thinking maybe you could come over later for dinner. Maybe order a pizza?"

  She doesn't say anything. My heart pounds, her silence making me tense, nervous, unsure of myself. Feelings I have never once had when asking a girl out.

  Does she not want to see me again? I thought we hit it off last night but maybe not. Or maybe she assumes I want more than just dinner with her, which I do, but that's not why I'm inviting her over. I really just want to see her again.

  "I figured I owed you after you brought me dinner last night," I say, rushing to explain. "But if you don't want to, that's fine. I just thought I'd—"

  "Um, no, I could come over. What time?"

  "Whatever works for you."

  "How about five?"

  Five is early for dinner. Did she suggest five so we'd have time afterward to hang out? Or does she just want to eat and go so the rest of her night is free? I wish I could figure this girl out.

  "Five is good."

  "I could bring a movie over. Unless you have something you need to do after dinner."

  "No. A movie would be great." I feel the grin on my face. Since meeting Becca, I've smiled more than I've smiled in weeks. In fact, before she came along, I don't think I'd smiled since before the accident. Sad, but true.

  "Then I'll see you at five," she says. "Can I bring snacks?"

  "Sure. Get whatever you want. I'll pay you when you get here."