Hold Me Like This (A second chance, small town romance) (Love Me Like This Book 3)

by Lola StVil

  The little bell above the door rings as I open it, and one head at a time turns to see who entered. It’s obvious most of them recognize me because within seconds the diner has gone silent, and I can feel all eyes on me.

  I take a step inside, looking around, and I find my eyes locked on a face so familiar and so hauntingly beautiful. It’s the face that has been a constant fixture in my dreams, both sleeping and waking, every day for seven years.

  Grey.

  CHAPTER TWO—Moments Before

  GREY

  I’m running like a madwoman possessed by a jackrabbit. It’s a typical Friday night here at the diner. You would think we were a five-star restaurant with as many people as we have in here. It’s a full house as usual. It’s sweltering hot, and I’m sweating. The diners don’t seem to notice, but they aren’t running back and forth between the dining room and kitchen.

  I’m not complaining; I love it here. This place feels more like home than my actual home. The cook is banging out orders as fast as they pour in, and I’m running tickets and helping the waitresses. It’s my favorite part of owning the diner. Getting back to my roots and interacting with customers, stopping to chat to some of the regulars, and generally soaking up the happy atmosphere of people connecting over good food and shared laughter.

  We have our usual Friday night families dining together, catching up on the week and planning their weekends, the older couples who have come here since my grandfather opened the place, and of course, the teenagers nervously chatting each other up on what looks like their first date.

  As I rush back toward the kitchen, I see a hand waving me over. It’s Dick. He moved to town not that long ago. He comes from old money and decided to set down roots, buying the local grocery store and the bar across the street from the diner. He’s had a thing for me since he got here, and he’s never stopped trying to persuade me to go out with him. He may be hot and all, but he’s just not my type. Something about him screams self-centered, and with everything else in my life, I don’t have time for a relationship right now, but no matter how many times I tell him that he just won’t give up. Which makes seeing him even more awkward.

  I reach Dick’s table, plastering on my customer service grin.

  “Is everything alright?” I ask.

  He nods, sitting back in his chair and making no effort to hide the way he looks me up and down as he smiles appreciatively at what he sees. I resist the urge to pull my shirt closed at the neck, and instead, I pretend I don’t notice his intrusive eyes.

  “Wonderful. I was just watching you there, running back and forth like some sort of peasant. It doesn’t have to be this way you know,” he says in what he probably thinks is a seductive tone.

  It sends me on the defensive, and I have to take a moment to make sure I’m not going to say something unprofessional. I keep the fake smile firmly in place.

  “I own the diner, Dick. I’m hardly a peasant as you so charmingly put it,” I reply.

  Most of what I say is true. I’m not a fucking peasant; the only lie is that I own the diner. I only own half of it. My parents own the other half, but Dick doesn’t need to know that. My parents chose to retire early and live the good life, traveling and doing whatever keeps retired couples amused all day long, handing the day-to-day operations over to me. Giving this up to be someone’s housemaid is my idea of torture.

  “I’d still like to take you home though,” he replies with a wink. “How about we go for a drink after you’re done here.”

  “How many times do I need to tell you I’m not interested?” I ask in a long-suffering voice.

  “You can tell me as many times as you like, baby; it only makes it more of a challenge,” he replies with a smug grin.

  I roll my eyes and start to turn away.

  “If you need anything else, I suggest you ask one of the waitresses,” I say politely.

  Dick’s laugh follows me back to the counter. He’s harmless enough, but God is he a nuisance. He’s one of those particularly irritating men who think all women secretly want them and it’s just a matter of wearing them down. I remind myself he’s not that bad; it’s me that has the no-dating policy, and I haven’t actually made it clear that I don’t want to date at all. He probably thinks I’m playing hard to get or something.

  I run a few more plates out, managing to avoid Dick’s eye. Well, I manage to avoid eye contact with him. I dread to think which parts of me might catch his eye.

  “Thanks, Grey. See you tomorrow,” Larry, a regular customer, calls out as he makes for the door.

  I give him a wave.

  “Bye, Larry. Thanks,” I shout after him.

  It’s the regulars that make this place what it is, and Larry has been a regular for years. Of course, the place attracts a lot of teenagers and it’s wonderful to have the place filled with their infectious energy and laughter, but it’s nice to talk to the older customers, to hear their stories about how the diner used to be before I was even born, back when my grandparents ran the place and my mom was just a kid, sitting in a corner booth doing her homework like I used to. Persuading the waitresses to let her help and just getting in the way like I used to.

  I hurry to clear off the table Larry just vacated. I can’t help but notice two teenagers sitting across from each other in a booth. They are sharing a milkshake and an order of fries. The girl looks nervous and happy, and the guy is trying hard to make her laugh. I smile to myself. Young love. This could be their first date.

  I lose my train of thought for a minute and let my thoughts drift.

  A young boy looks across the table, and the girl sitting across from him smiles shyly as she holds his gaze like she is the only girl in the universe. She laughs too hard at something funny he says as her dad walks over and sets a milkshake down with two straws for them to share.

  My thought changes once again.

  My mind starts to wander back to my own first date, but I put an immediate stop to that. I’m not letting myself go there. Not now, not ever again. Even seven years after Holden left, it’s still too painful to think about him.

  I quickly gather up the dirty plate and glass from the table and wipe it off, and then I hurry back to the counter. I get back to the counter and spot two plates of fried chicken with a side of potatoes and gravy and a side of coleslaw. I know immediately who they are for. Betty and William, an eccentric old couple who visit the diner every Friday without fail and make the same order every week.

  I smile to myself as I pick up the plates and run them out.

  “Good evening.” I smile as I place their plates in front of them. “How are you both?”

  “Oh, we’re good, dear. How are you?” Betty asks.

  “Can’t complain,” I say.

  “No one will listen even if you do,” William says.

  This is his standard joke, which we share every week, and it’ll be pretty much the only thing he says, letting his wife do the talking. They really are a good match. Betty likes to chat, whereas William likes to listen. Or he’s learned to listen. One or the other. Either way, it works.

  “Thank you for reserving our table,” Betty says as she begins tearing apart her chicken.

  I smile at her. I reserve this table for them every week.

  “Anything for you two, you know that.” I smile. “I have to keep my regulars happy, right?”

  “We’ve sat at this table every single week for the last sixty-five years you know. The first time was our wedding night.”

  Betty gets a faraway look in her eyes, and she smiles a nostalgic smile.

  “Our parents refused to pay for our wedding. They said we were too young to get married, that it would never work.” She pauses and smiles almost shyly at William.

  “We sure showed them. We had no money back then. Your grandparents had just opened this diner not a month before. We came here to tell our parents the good news, and when they didn’t accept it, we planned to run away and get married. Your grandparents saw a lot of themse
lves in us; they were married young as well. They convinced us that this is where we should be married, at home with the people we grew up with—our friends and family. Your grandmother rallied the town, and by sundown, we were married. Our guests were served fried chicken, burgers, and fries. The community rallied around us, bringing salads, baked beans, dinner rolls, and all kinds of sides; it was everything we could have ever wanted. Like a fairy tale, and we’ll be forever grateful to your family for helping us when we needed it.”

  I smile at Betty’s story. Their picture hangs on the wall behind the register. It was the first town event in the diner, making this place a town landmark. She tells me the story every week, and every week I listen intently like it’s the first time I’ve heard it. Their love is so sweet, and I love how she wants to share it with me.

  “It must have been a great day,” I say.

  “Oh, it was,” she replies, looking at the picture on the wall. “But it was only the first of many. That’s the trouble these days, isn’t it? Kids these days just want a wedding. We wanted a marriage, a life.”

  “That’s true,” I agree, although I’m not sure it’s true for everyone.

  It certainly never was for me. I didn’t just want a fancy party. I wanted a lifetime of love and laughter.

  “Listen to me, babbling on like that. You must think I’m a senile old woman.” Betty laughs.

  “Never,” I reply with a laugh of my own. “Enjoy your meals, and if you need anything else, just give me a shout, okay?”

  I pat Betty’s shoulder as I walk away from the table, and I can’t help but smile at the way William is looking at her, the same look of adoration on his face tonight as the young man in the photo wore all those years ago. It’s so sweet that their love has endured over the years. That’s what real love looks like. When you’re really in love, you make it work. You get through the hard times together. Not like …

  I cut the thought off before it can begin. I’m not going there. I have made a lot of progress in the years since Holden left, and mostly, I leave those feelings in the past where they belong. But once in a while, I catch myself thinking about him. Occasionally I even run into his mother in the grocery store or his father at the doctor’s office. There are memories of us everywhere, and I can’t blame them for him leaving. They lost their son too.

  “Grey? Table three’s order is up,” Cassie, my assistant manager, says to me as she passes, loaded down with plates.

  I nod to her, glad for the interruption as I head back toward the counter. I hear the bell above the door ring, announcing the arrival of a new customer. I don’t think anything of it. The bell is constantly ringing during the evening rush, but then I hear something strange in a full Friday night restaurant—silence.

  I turn to see what is happening. My heart stops. My mouth goes dry. All the air is sucked out of the room. My hands go cold and my palms get sweaty. I am staring directly into my past.

  Holden.

  CHAPTER THREE

  HOLDEN

  Time freezes as I stand there staring into Grey’s eyes. The tension in the air could shatter all the windows if we move wrong. I stand there frozen. I often used to think her mom looked into her eyes when she was born and named her Grey after the color of her eyes. They’re the color of the sea in winter when a storm’s brewing.

  She hasn’t changed one bit. She’s just as beautiful as the day I left. I feel my body responding to her as though time stood still. Her smooth skin, her flushed rosy cheeks, probably because of the heat in the diner, but it might be her reaction to seeing me.

  As I stand watching her, I realize my plan didn’t extend any further than coming here and seeing her. Now she’s right there in front of me, I don’t know what to do or say to convince her to even hear me out, let alone to give me a second chance.

  I want to go and pull her into my arms and kiss her until neither one of us can stand anymore. She’s the love of my life, and she always will be, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what she wants. But maybe it is. It’s funny. It’s been seven years, and I still feel exactly the same about her now as I did then. I’m just not sure if she still feels that way about me.

  It doesn’t much matter one way or the other because I am still as frozen as time. I am paralyzed by her gaze, held in place by an unseen force that stops me from doing anything. I just realized I am holding my breath.

  A quiet cough from one of the diners pulls me out of my trance, and I finally catch my breath. Now that I can move again. I become aware that all eyes are still on us, moving back and forth, waiting for one of us to make a move. Yup, small-town life never changes.

  I know I have to do something, say something, but what? Hi just isn’t enough, but then what would be enough, especially in a room full of strangers old and new? I break the spell by taking a half step toward her. We break eye contact, but Grey still stands there making no move to carry on with whatever she was doing before she saw me. She stands, still frozen to the spot, a deer caught in headlights.

  I take another step, and some of the conversations around me start up again, no doubt talking about this very moment. A few of the older regulars, the ones who know me and my family, keep watching. They are the ones who can remember my fairy-tale romance with Grey. The ones who probably envisioned one day being invited to our wedding and watching us raise our children. They are the ones who would have seen Grey after I left, confused and hurting. They probably hate me almost as much as she does.

  I take another step. Each one feels dangerous, like this is the one that will decide our fate. That Grey will either flee or start coming toward me. That would be the best possible outcome for this: Grey and I meeting in the middle, wrapping our arms around each other and kissing. It’s not going to happen. If it were going to be that easy, I wouldn’t have this knot of dread deep down in my stomach.

  All too soon, I reach Grey. I have no idea what to say to her now that I’m this close to her. I don’t have the words to explain any of this to her. I just want to take her in my arms and kiss her and erase all of those lost years.

  “Grey,” I start, my voice low and shaky, filled with all of the emotions I have pushed aside over the years.

  “Hey Holden, would you like a table? Is it just you tonight?” she says casually like I’m just another customer here to have dinner.

  It’s like she punched me in the stomach and knocked all the wind out of me in one sentence. She isn’t mad, she isn’t hurt. She isn’t anything. It’s like I’m just somebody she used to know.

  “I … I shouldn’t have come here,” I stammer. “I-I’m sorry.”

  I turn and walk away. I imagine I can feel her eyes on me as I head for the door, but I glance back, and she’s not even facing in my direction.

  Grey Thomas, the love of my life, is completely indifferent to me.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  GREY

  It takes everything I have to appear casual as Holden approaches me. When our eyes locked across the room, for a moment, I thought I was losing my shit. But I wasn’t. He is really here. I catch myself and pull my gaze away from his.

  Is he really back for me? He looks terrified, like he’s wondering what I will say or do. I want so badly to believe he’s come back for me, but even if he has, what does it matter? He upped and left without a word the day before our prom, and I haven’t heard from him since. It’s not like I could ever trust him again.

  And I as sure as hell don’t want him thinking he can go off and live the good life, fucking other women, enjoying life as a single man, while I sit here and pine for him. No. Fuck that. He doesn’t get to break my heart and then waltz back in here and have me fall into his arms. It doesn’t matter that that’s exactly what I want to do.

  He reaches me and stops a foot away.

  It’s too close.

  It’s not close enough.

  “Grey,” he says, his voice shaking with emotion.

  “Hey Holden, would you like a table? Is it just you tonight?”<
br />
  It’s the exact phrase I would have used for an old friend who had been gone a long time and come back. He deflates in front of me, and it takes everything I have not to jump into his arms and kiss away the hurt. He hurt me much more than I could ever hurt him, and yet I still feel bad when I see the flicker of pain on his face. God, I’m such a fucking idiot.

  He stammers out an apology, something about he shouldn’t have come back here. And that’s the truth. He should have stayed away. What we had is in the past, and I don’t need a living, breathing reminder of it hanging around me. Not even one that is so hot he takes my breath away.

  I watch his back as he walks away from me, and with all the effort in my body, I turn and go pick up table three’s order, which is sitting on the counter. I know he looks back. I feel his eyes on me. I can always tell when Holden is looking at me. I feel his stare like a spark through my body. Still, I don’t turn around.

  It’s when the bell above the door tinkles to signal he’s left, and the chatter in the diner reaches full volume again, that I dare to breathe properly once more.

  I take the plates to table three, thankful that they’re not regulars, not someone who will quiz me about what just happened. I can’t believe he’s really back here. A part of me knew it would happen, but the bigger part of me honestly never expected to see Holden again.

  “Are you alright, dear?” Betty asks me.

  I realize I’m standing next to their table, just staring into thin air.

  “I … yes, I’m fine,” I lie, forcing a smile.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. I suppose in a way you have,” she says. “You better get used to it though because the way that boy looked at you—he’s going to be back again. He still looks at you like he did back when you were just kids sitting in here doing your homework together.”

  “You really think so?” I ask, catching myself before my smile gets too big.