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

by Lola StVil

  I don’t know what to say or do, but we’re almost at her car and this could be my last chance at making sure this hour or so isn’t the last time we spend together. As we walked through the park, we laughed and joked, and I felt that old spark reignite. And I know Grey felt it too. I just need time to nurture it. To turn it into a flame.

  “Lunch tomorrow then?” I say.

  Grey smiles a half smile and looks down at the ground. She looks back up at me and nods.

  “Yes. I’d like that,” she says.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  GREY

  To say this is awkward would most definitely be up there as a contender for understatement of the year. Stuart and I have been in the restaurant for over forty-five minutes, and other than greeting each other and the usual pleasantries that go along with it, we’ve barely said two words to each other.

  I feel for him. I mean he’s tried, but I’m just not feeling it. The problem isn’t specific to him; he could never be what I want him to be because the real problem is, he’s not Holden.

  He doesn’t stir up old feelings. He can’t make me laugh with just a few words. And he can’t set me on fire inside with the briefest of glances. I don’t think he could do that to me if he had all night and a full range of sex toys. Why? Because Holden has ruined me for anyone else.

  No one could live up to him and the fantasy I’ve built up in my mind about him showing up to win me back. Even Holden can’t seem to live up to that. I mean, he did that very thing, and yet here I am out with someone else. He is on my mind every minute, and I can’t see past him, but I have to keep trying. I can’t go back to him. It doesn’t matter how much I might want to. I can’t. I just can’t. But it doesn’t seem like I’m much good at this moving on shit either.

  I can continue with my charade for Holden’s benefit and pretend like I had a life after he left, but outside of throwing myself into the diner and the odd night out here and there with Cannon or the girls, I didn’t. I still don’t.

  I put down my knife and fork; I’m not that hungry. And yet … we ordered dessert. I told him maybe something sweet would better suit the occasion. I could have made some excuse now and gotten the hell out of here if we hadn’t. I don’t even think Stuart would have been annoyed. I think he would have been relieved.

  “Grey, I’m sorry.” Stuart sighs, also putting his cutlery down.

  I’ve barely touched my food. And he used his to keep him distracted enough to say as little as possible. I knew it wouldn’t go anywhere, then Holden came back, and I needed an excuse to stay away until I could figure out what was happening, so the night hasn’t been a total waste of time.

  “I’m just not ready for this,” he adds. “Honestly, I know it’s a cliché, but it’s not you. I just … I thought dating again would help me forget the pain of my divorce, but it’s really not.”

  He looks surprised when I smile.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, realizing smiling probably isn’t an appropriate response to him admitting he’s still in pain over his ex-wife. “It’s just, well, I’m not exactly in the right headspace to be dating either. And I’m just relieved it’s not just me.”

  He returns my smile.

  “You know what? Maybe we can still salvage tonight after all. How about we forget it being a date and just enjoy a shared meal as friends? We can wallow in each other’s pity.”

  “Now, that’s an idea I can get behind.” I smile, raising my glass.

  Stuart clinks his glass against mine. The rest of the evening is surprisingly pleasant. He turns out to be pretty good company when there are no expectations except friendship, something I think we can both offer. Dessert is much more enjoyable than the main course, and I wish we’d had the conversation earlier. I wish I’d had the guts to just be honest with him like he was with me.

  Who am I kidding? I can barely be honest with myself these days.

  We call time on our night pretty early, not because it’s awkward, but because now the pressure is off, there’s no harm in admitting that we both just want to turn in. I might not have convinced anyone I am over Holden tonight, but I have made a new friend, so all wasn’t lost. And at least when Holden asked me to go out with him tonight, I didn’t have to be the sad case who admitted to having no plans on a Friday night, and I didn’t have to lie either. So there’s that. It’s not exactly winning at life, but I’ll take it.

  ***

  I am running around the apartment like a madwoman. I have no idea what to wear. I don’t know where Holden is taking me for lunch, and I don’t want to overdress or underdress. I text Cannon and tell him I am canceling.

  “Girl, that man would be happy even if you showed up in a paper bag.”

  “Caaaaannnnnon!” I text back, frantic.

  “Chill, I’m coming up the stairs.”

  My door swings open, and Cannon walks in with like a hundred shopping bags. Okay, maybe not a hundred, but it looks like he cleaned out the boutique. He hands me the first bag, and I try on a dozen outfits, and nothing is working. Cannon hands me the last bag and says this is it.

  I stand in front of the mirror and admire Cannon’s taste. We settled on a pair of faded mid-thigh cut off shorts and a baby doll white tank top that has a small slit where my belly button is. I top it off with a blue kimono cardigan with a peach and white floral vine print and my big silver hoop earrings. And a pair of tan strappy sandals. Brush on a bit of silver shadow and add some lip gloss.

  I turn to Cannon. He’s grinning from ear to ear and nodding his head.

  “Mmmmm, damn killer, slay.”

  My eyes widen in shock, and suddenly I’m seventeen again and can’t breathe.

  “I can’t do this. I’m canceling.”

  The doorbell rings, Cannon gives me a smug grin, and butterflies dance and sway in my stomach. I know it’s Holden, right on time for our lunch date.

  It’s not a date

  I have to remind myself for the two hundredth time in the last hour. It’s just two old friends catching up. I think Holden wants it to be more. I know he does. And deep down, so do I, but this is about more than showing Holden I don’t need him. It’s about protecting myself. I can’t go through that again; I just can’t. And I won’t leave myself open to it.

  Although it is nice to be with someone who just gets me on every level. Someone who knows me better than I know myself, even now. And I have to admit it’s kind of exciting sneaking around with Holden. When he texted me this morning to make sure we were still on for lunch, I said of course. He ended up calling me, and we both agreed that the diner wasn’t the right place for this lunch. In a small town, that would have the rumor mill full press.

  When I was a teenager, Holden and I were dating, and both of our families loved the idea of us growing up, getting married, and having babies. We never got to sneak around, sure our parents wouldn’t have approved. This sneaking around now makes me feel like a teenager again, only this time, I get to be the daring one who takes chances and does things no one expects.

  I grab my purse, run down the stairs, and head out to Holden. Inviting him in feels too personal, like it would be an invite to much more than my apartment. His breath catches in his throat when he sees my hair bouncing around my shoulders. He takes me in and grins when he sees me. I start digging through my bag, looking for my car keys.

  “You don’t need the car,” he says with a shy smile.

  I’m not used to Holden being shy about anything. It kind of suits him, and it tells me I’m not the only one who has no real idea what I’m doing here.

  “I brought a picnic,” he adds.

  He holds up a large wicker basket that I can’t believe I didn’t see. I didn’t see anything really as I stepped outside. Nothing except his eyes.

  “What a great idea,” I say. “It’ll be good to get some fresh air after being cooped up in the diner all morning.”

  He leads the way, and I follow. Has it always been this way?

  I think it has.
/>   He was always the rebellious one, the braver of us. He would lead, and I would follow. I would have followed him anywhere once.

  Stop it. Don’t go there, Grey.

  I tell myself to just let go of the past and enjoy the moment. Just two old friends catching up.

  I know before we get there where Holden is taking me. The beach. The one where we shared our first kiss all those years ago. It’s clear he’s taking me places that were special to us: the park yesterday, the beach today. I don’t know if it’s a good idea or not. In those familiar locations with Holden beside me, it’s too easy to forget how he broke my heart. It’s too easy for me to let my guard down and let him back in again.

  I swallow my doubts and tell myself to just go with the flow.

  “Are you alright?” Holden asks. “You’re quiet.”

  “I’m fine.” I smile. “I was just a million miles away.”

  “What were you thinking about?” he asks.

  I could tell him, but I’m so sick of agonizing. So sick of being serious. Holden has always brought out the playful side of me, and today, it seems, is no different.

  “I was just thinking I bet I could reach the sand dunes before you do.” I grin.

  I take off running as I say it, shouting the last words back over my shoulder, giving myself a head start.

  “Cheater,” Holden shouts, breaking into a run.

  I kick my sandals off and swoop down and grab them. A broken ankle isn’t a great look for anyone. I dash along the path that winds along the front of the beach. I pump my arms and push my legs to carry me faster. My hair flies out behind me, and I feel free, lighter somehow. I could say it was the running, the breeze in my hair, but it’s not. It’s him. It’s being around him again after all these years, remembering what it’s like to feel whole again.

  I reach the sand dunes ahead of Holden, and without thinking, without planning, I go to the clearing surrounded by four tall dunes. The spot we shared our first kiss. Holden comes over the top of one of the dunes and half runs, half slides down to join me.

  “Well damn,” he says. “I can’t believe you beat me.”

  I’m panting for air, and he’s not even remotely winded. He let me win, and we both know it, but I decide to play along.

  “Not too fit for an Army boy, are you?” I laugh.

  “Hey, less of the boy,” he replies. “I was weighed down by lunch.”

  “Jeez, how much did you bring?” I say as he puts the basket down and opens it up.

  He moves the blanket he brought, and it’s full to the top, it looks like he had to force that blanket in there.

  “Most of it is the blanket.” He laughs.

  He unfolds the blanket and spreads it out. Without discussing it, he removes his shoes, and we use them to pin down the four corners, just like we always did. He goes back to the basket and begins pulling out a variety of dishes.

  “What do you have for me?” I ask, suddenly ravenous, batting my eyes and trying to play coy.

  The running, the sea air, it must be making me hungry.

  “Chicken breasts, cheese and pickle sandwiches, and mini sausage rolls,” he says.

  All of my favorites.

  “I know you’re allergic to salad, so I didn’t bother with that.” He laughs.

  “What can I say? I’ve never been a nibble on lettuce leaves kind of girl. I blame my parents. They shouldn’t have run a diner if they wanted me to eat like a supermodel.”

  “Whatever you’re eating, it suits you.” He smiles.

  I’m conscious of him looking at me, really looking at me, drinking me in. It awakens something in me that I want to remain sleeping, and I break the moment by throwing myself down on the blanket beside him and peering into the basket.

  “And for dessert?” I ask.

  “Zebra popcorn and chocolate-covered strawberries, with white chocolate and caramel drizzle. What else?” he says.

  “Exactly.” I grin. “Is there any other option worth even considering?”

  He grins and pulls out a bottle of white wine.

  “And a refreshment or two,” he says with a wink.

  He opens the wine and pours us a glass each. I take mine and smile. I sip it, enjoying the dry, nutty flavor. He begins to open the dishes, and I start in on a chicken breast.

  “So how was your date last night?” Holden asks me as he grabs a sandwich.

  I think he’s aiming for casual, but he misses the mark by a mile. He’s jealous. I can hear it in his voice, and by the telltale flaring of his nostrils.

  “Fantastic,” I say. “He flew me to Paris, and after we went sunning in the Riviera, we had a romantic dinner by the Louvre and afterward, we went to Rome, where we watched the most amazing sunrise over the Piazza Navona.”

  “Haha very funny,” Holden mocks.

  “It wasn’t funny. It was delightful and quite romantic,” I say.

  “So where’s he taking you next? Venus?”

  “Mars,” I correct him.

  “Always a good choice. The lack of oxygen can really spice things up. Or so I’m told.”

  “Oh, well, I’ll look forward to it then,” I say.

  “You should. It’ll be out of this world,” Holden says sarcastically.

  I groan, but I can’t help but laugh.

  “Did you read that in a fortune cookie?” I ask.

  He makes a fake shocked face.

  “How dare you? That was an original line.”

  “Hmm. I sure as hell wouldn’t admit to that if I were you.”

  I reach for a sausage roll and nibble on it.

  “He was a nice guy,” I say, going back to Holden’s original question. “But there was no chemistry. I think I made a new friend though.”

  I don’t know why I told him that. Yes, I do. I want him to know my life is full and active, but I still want him to know I’m available. I guess what I really want is for him to fight for me. He gives me those looks, he acts jealous when I mention another guy, but ultimately, when I told him I was over him, he didn’t do anything to try and get me back.

  Maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe he’s over me, and he’s relieved I feel the same way. Maybe he wants to go back to being best friends.

  “That’s a shame,” he says.

  The grin that is dying to form and curls the side of his lips up ever so slightly gives him away. He doesn’t think it’s a shame at all.

  “So what about you?” I ask. “Anyone special in your heart?”

  He shakes his head.

  “There’s not a whole lot of time for romance in the military, but there is this one girl,” he says, suggestively meeting eyes.

  “Bullshit,” I scoff. “Plenty of military guys manage it.”

  He looks at me, serious all of a sudden.

  “You want the truth?” he asks.

  I nod, suddenly sure I don’t want the truth. He’s going to tell me about how he fell for some girl, and it’ll break me into pieces.

  “There wasn’t a whole lot of room in my head for romance when all I could ever think of was you.”

  “Holden, don’t …” I say.

  “I’m sorry, Grey, I have to. I’m going to. I know you say you’re over me, and while I pray that’s not true, even if it is, I left without saying goodbye, and I’ve always regretted it. And I’m going to tell you why. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I hope maybe you’ll at least understand.”

  My appetite is suddenly gone, and I put the sausage roll back down, half eaten. This is it. The moment I’ve waited seven years for. The moment Holden tells me how he was able to walk away from me without a second thought.

  I’ve pictured this moment in my head a thousand times, playing out a thousand different scenarios. Now it’s finally happening for real, I’m not sure I’m ready for it. But I will hear him out. Not for him, not because I owe him anything. But for me. Because I do owe myself this. I owe myself a chance to close the door on the past and finally get the closure I’ve always needed
.

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  “You know I kind of fell in with the wrong crowd before I left. You told me time and time again to ditch those guys and stick with my real friends. But I knew better. Because I was a dick, and I knew everything. Or I thought I did. I thought they were cool, and the truth be told, I guess I needed that bit of a rebellion, you know? I was always the straight A student. Always did what my parents, coaches, teachers, everyone expected of me, and one day, I just got sick of living up to my father’s expectations, just to fall short of being good enough.

  “I thought I could have some fun, and at first it was fun. We’d drink, mess around, get into the odd fight here and there.”

  He pauses, a faraway look in his eyes.

  “I started to figure out these guys were bad news when the fights stopped being minor scuffles and became real fights. Fights that left guys bleeding, unconscious. And they weren’t random anymore. They were organized. I should have walked away, but as stupid as it sounds now, that would have felt like I was just giving in to my father.

  “He was getting increasingly pissed off with me and my attitude, and he made it clear I wasn’t allowed to have anything to do with those guys anymore. That just pushed me toward them even more. The night I left town, it was too late. It all blew up in our faces.

  “They organized a fight with some gang or other. I don’t remember who or why. But I remember going with them. I remember being nervous. I knew it was a bad idea, but once I was there, I couldn’t walk away. I didn’t want them to think I was a coward, so I went along with it; I laughed and taunted these guys, just like they did.

  “And then the fight started. And something changed in me. It didn’t feel wrong to punch someone in the face. It … it felt good. And at that moment, I hated myself. The fight went too far. Some of the guys had knives, and a guy was stabbed badly. He was bleeding out in front of our eyes, and we fled. If he didn’t get stabbed, who knows how far I would have gone?

  “I ran all the way home without looking back once, and I tried to sneak in, but my father was waiting up for me. I was a mess, inconsolable. I felt like I had nowhere to turn, but I needed him. I told him everything. I didn’t stab that guy, Grey, but I was there and knowing how the adrenaline flooded me when I was fighting, it made me question everything. It made me question how far I would go to fit in. It fucking terrified me.