Educating Holden (Wishing Well, Texas Book 11)

by Melanie Shawn

  “The kiss rule,” we both said at the same time.

  Even at eight years old during what I later learned was my first panic attack, I’d hoped that the rule he was talking about meant he was going to kiss me. Not much had changed in twenty years. I really wished he’d kiss me now. I licked my lips.

  His eyes flickered down to my mouth but then they shot right back up to my eyes. Instead of lowering his head and pressing his lips to mine, he repeated the same thing he had all those years ago, “Keep it simple stupid.”

  I couldn’t help but feel the same disappointment. This time, it might even be worse. But I didn’t want him to see that, so I lifted up my chin and continued reminiscing, “You told me to show you how to do the dance.”

  “Yep.”

  “And you stayed at my house, learning the waltz routine, until after ten o’clock.”

  “Yep.”

  “You only left because your dad came to pick you up.”

  Holden’s smile turned wistful. “He was upset because I had a competition in the morning in Amarillo.”

  “You do remember.” I couldn’t help the wide grin that spread on my face.

  “Of course I remember.” There was a tenderness, a vulnerability that I didn’t see in Holden’s eyes very often. Not that I’d spent a lot of time gazing into his eyes lately, but even from a peripheral view, I hadn’t spied it.

  I sensed that he had more to say, but he remained quiet. As we glided across the floor, I couldn’t help but feel like I was living out another one of my fantasies. I’d dreamed about dancing with Holden almost as much as I’d dreamed about him showing up and confessing his undying love to me.

  Being with him here, like this, felt like a dream. Whenever we were together, no matter who we were around it always felt like it was just the two of us. That was exactly what it felt like now. Like we were the only two people in the world.

  “Why are you dating that asshat?”

  The harshness of his tone and the crassness of his question snapped me out of the bubble I’d been floating in.

  I straightened my shoulders. “Date. Singular. Not plural.”

  “He’s not good enough for you.”

  I wasn’t sure if his objection was coming from a brotherly place, and he was trying to protect me because I was Bentley’s little sister. Or if it was jealousy. I knew it wasn’t very enlightened of me, but I really hoped it was because he was jealous.

  “He’s a lawyer,” I defended Matthew just like I had Tyler and David and Brad and every other guy I’d dated in the past few months.

  Holden’s jaw tensed. “I don’t care if he’s the fucking pope, he’s not good enough for you.”

  Holden hadn’t ever been what I would describe as warm and cuddly, but I’d never seen him look this pissed off. I wanted to find out what was motivating him to be so agitated and vocal. Even during the years he’d spent ignoring me, he hadn’t been angry, just indifferent. As unhealthy as it was, I couldn’t help but love seeing some emotion from him.

  “He’s not that bad.” He was, but I didn’t want to admit that.

  “He’s been checking out every female under fifty that walks into his line of vision.”

  I didn’t care if Matthew had an orgy with every woman in here. I knew within sixty seconds of meeting him that it wasn’t going to happen. I was just going through the motions. “Well, I mean, there are a lot of pretty women here tonight.”

  Tension radiated off from him in waves. “Are you defending him?”

  I shrugged. “I’m just saying, it’s our first date. It’s not that serious.”

  “First date. Does that mean you’re going to have a second date?”

  Hell no, but there was no way I was going to tell him that. I was enjoying this way too much. “Maybe.”

  “I hope you’re fucking around because if you are serious, then you need to set higher standards for yourself. Maybe you should invest in some therapy or self-esteem books instead of going out with a different guy every day of the week.”

  His words felt like a slap in the face and I stopped dancing and just looked at him. I couldn’t believe that he had said those things to me. I could see that he was frustrated and upset but I didn’t care. He’d shut me out of his life for years, and he couldn’t just waltz—pun intended—back into it and call the shots.

  The music stopped and I pulled out of his arms.

  “Thanks for the dance.” I walked back to the table, where Matthew was speaking to a woman I didn’t recognize.

  I didn’t look back to see if Holden was watching me, but I could feel that he was.

  “I’m ready to go,” I announced as I approached the table and grabbed my purse.

  Matthew’s eyes lit up. I could tell that he thought something was going to happen between us. He was wrong.

  Chapter 15

  Holden

  “You make mistakes, mistakes don’t make you.”

  ~ Maggie Calhoun

  I paced back and forth in the front room and it wasn’t because my back hurt so much that I couldn’t sit down. Nope. I was wearing out the floor because I’d been a complete asshole and it wasn’t sitting well with me.

  Olivia had gotten home almost thirty minutes ago. I’d left the bar right after she had, but she hadn’t come home for close to thirty minutes after me. I hadn’t spied, watching to see when she got home, but I’d heard her come in the front door. I knew she was upset because the slam of her front door had rattled my walls. And since then, I’d had to actively stop myself from going over and apologizing to her.

  Olivia didn’t deserve the way I’d spoken to her. Bringing up the self-help books had been a below the belt blow. Bentley had mentioned that Olivia was reading a lot of them a few years ago, and like every piece of information about Olivia, I’d stored it. When I’d heard her defending the piece of shit that she was out with, it just came out. I hadn’t meant for it to.

  It might not seem like it, given my track record, but the truth was I’d never want to do or say anything to hurt her. But that’s exactly what I’d done. When I’d said what I had, she flinched as if I’d slapped her in the face. I’d seen how badly my words had wounded her, and I knew that I needed to make it right, or at least try.

  But I figured the best thing to do would be to give it a night for us to sleep on it. If I went over there, I was pretty sure the door would slam again, but this time it would be in my face. If that happened, I wouldn’t blame her. Plus, as much as I didn’t want to think about it, there was a possibility that she might not be alone.

  The thought of her with that slimeball made my skin crawl and my stomach turn, but there was a chance that she was.

  I pulled my wallet out and took out the folded notebook pages that I’d stored in there for fourteen years. I’d kept her note to me in my wallet since the night I found it. I’d read it more times than I could count. She’d been so brave, and I hadn’t even had the balls to speak to her about it. Now, all these years later, I still hadn’t owned up to how I felt and, to add insult to injury, I was being a complete dick to her.

  My phone vibrated and I put the letter away and pulled my phone out of my pocket. It was a message from a number that I didn’t recognize.

  It read: Hey, it’s Kenna. I hope you don’t mind but I got your number from Bentley. I’d love to hang out and catch up sometime. I make a mean pot roast if you’re interested.

  She added a winky face and meat on a bone emoji.

  Women in the South were basically bred to believe that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. And they weren’t necessarily wrong. It just happened to be that my heart belonged to the woman that had shown up on my doorstep with her mama’s famous fried chicken.

  I did not doubt that Kenna could make a mean pot roast, but I had no interest in tasting it. I thought about ignoring her text, which if I were being honest would be exactly what I would do if I was back in L.A. The chances that I’d ever run into a woman that had slid into my DMs wa
s slim to none. Mainly because I never checked my DMs but also because that was really only an issue when you lived in a small town.

  If I ignored the text then it would be awkward the next time I saw her, but I supposed that turning her down would be awkward as well.

  I wrote and erased several responses before giving up altogether. I’d figure out what to say to her later when my head wasn’t clouded with regret for how I’d treated Olivia.

  Tomorrow. I’d go over and apologize to Olivia and message Kenna back.

  With that decision made I started up the stairs to call it a night. I’d only made it a few steps when I heard a loud crashing and scream coming from the other side of the wall that I shared with Olivia. Without giving it a second thought, I rushed out the door and knocked like I was the police and this was a raid.

  When no one answered, I knocked again and put my ear up to the door. I could hear movement, but I couldn’t tell what it was from.

  My mind went to the darkest place and I was imagining her being attacked. I was seconds away from kicking the door in when it opened. Olivia stood in the doorway with light illuminating her from behind. She was wearing flannel pajama shorts and an oversized T-shirt. Her hair was pulled up in a bun on the top of her head, and the way the light was hitting her it looked like a halo.

  “Are you okay?” I asked a little out of breath from the adrenaline racing through me.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I heard a crash.”

  “It was nothing.”

  Channing excitedly pushed past her and jumped up to greet me. When it wasn’t too hot outside, Olivia would leave him in the backyard when she went to work. On those days I’d been going out back and hanging out with him. It was my favorite part of the day and I found myself looking forward to it. When I was throwing the ball around or just chilling with Channing, I was calm and had a sense of peace. A ray of light would shine through the dark cloud that followed me around.

  After getting out of the service, my brother Hayden had started a program of rescuing dogs to train as therapy animals for vets who suffered from PTSD after getting his own rescue therapy dog, Ranger.

  Until spending time with Channing, I hadn’t fully understood the therapeutic benefits that dogs had to offer.

  “Channing, down!” Olivia commanded to no avail.

  “Sit,” I commanded, and the dog immediately obeyed.

  He looked up at me with his huge puppy dog eyes, his tail thumping against the tiled entryway, and his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. I patted his head. “Good boy.”

  Olivia looked up at me with wonder. “How did you do that?”

  “You just have to have the dominant mind.” Also, I’d been working with him doing basic training. Sit. Stay. Come.

  He had a lot of energy and seemed happier when he was being challenged. I wasn’t sure how she’d feel about me training her dog, so I kept it to myself.

  “Can I come in?”

  Her hazel eyes narrowed, and I could read the indecision in them. I’d rather not apologize standing on her doorstep but if that’s how it had to be then that was fine.

  Before I could though, she opened her door further and I stepped inside. When I did, I saw that the contents of her coat closet were pouring out into the front room and the bar that held her coats was broken off and the shelf was haphazardly dangling.

  “Do you need some help with—”

  “No!” She held up her hand like she was a Supreme singing “Stop in the Name of Love”. “I don’t need your help.”

  I might be taking things personally, but I really felt like she’d put a big emphasis on your.

  “And if you came over to lecture me,” she continued, “you can save it. I’m not in the mood. I don’t need or want your opinion on my—”

  “I’m sorry,” I cut her off.

  She crossed her arms defiantly. “Sorry for what?”

  I could see that she was not going to make this easy on me and there was no reason that she should.

  “Are you sorry for being a dick tonight or an asshole for the past fifteen years?”

  I put my hands in my pockets and cast my eyes down to the ground. She had every right to call me an asshole. That is exactly what I’d been. But hearing her say it was harder than I’d expected it to be.

  “I’m sorry for both.”

  “Why did you stop talking to me when we were kids? What did I do to make you—”

  “You didn’t do anything. It was me.” I knew that my explanation sounded lame, but it was the truth.

  “Okay, what did you do then?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “It matters to me.” She pressed her palm to her chest.

  I knew that there was no point going back and forth with this and we were getting into dangerous territory, so I took a step toward the door. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. We can talk tomorrow. It’s late.”

  “I’ve missed you.”

  When she said those words, it felt like a punch in my gut. I turned back to her and when I did, I saw the depth of emotion that she’d written to me about in her letter reflected back at me. But it was more than just the love and devotion she’d told me she had, now there was also heartache and sadness mixed in.

  “Haven’t you missed me?” she asked quietly as she took a step toward me.

  “Yes.” I couldn’t deny it and I wasn’t going to lie to her.

  We stood silently staring at one another. The energy between us was alive, crackling with tension. I could feel that she had so much more she wanted to say, but she was waiting for me to say something. Waiting for me to make a move. But I couldn’t.

  My heart was beating so hard and fast that it was all I could hear in my head.

  She licked her lips and swallowed as her hazel eyes lifted to mine. “I really want you to kiss me right now.”

  Her confession was both innocent and seductive. And the temptation to give in to her desire was nearly impossible to resist. But I kept telling myself that if I crossed that line with her, I’d never be able to go back. And I wasn’t any better than that assclown in the suit, or the guy in the tuxedo shirt. Not only was my body broken down, I’d been a selfish prick for years.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “If this is because of Bentley, then that’s bullshit, because he’s marrying my best friend.”

  I couldn’t help but smile seeing her getting all worked up. “It’s not because of Bentley.”

  “Is it because you’re not attracted to me?” I could see the vulnerability in her eyes, and it shattered my heart.

  “No.” That was definitely not the problem.

  “Then what is it? Why can’t you kiss me?”

  “Because…” I didn’t know how to explain it to her so she’d understand. I knew that if I tried, she’d just argue with me. So instead of trying to make her see what I felt, I went with a truth. “You’re way too perfect in an infinite amount of ways.”

  She stared up at me and for a brief moment, opened her mouth, then closed it again. I’d achieved the impossible. I’d rendered Olivia Calhoun speechless. I figured I’d better stop while I was ahead, I turned and walked out the door.

  Chapter 16

  Olivia

  “You don’t find a happy life, you make one.”

  ~ Maggie Calhoun

  I wasn’t sure how long I stood there staring at the empty space that Holden had taken up just moments before. My mind must have short-circuited because I couldn’t process what had just happened.

  Over the years, in all the times that I’d played out scenarios when Holden and I would finally talk about my feelings for him, none had ever ended like that.

  Holden’s parting remark was playing on a loop in my head.

  You’re way too perfect in an infinite amount of ways.

  “Wha
t does that mean?” I asked out loud. I wasn’t sure if I was asking myself, Holden (who was gone), or Channing.

  “Arf-arf,” Channing responded.

  “He can’t just say something like that and then leave. He did the same thing at yoga. He called me magic and walked out.”

  Channing’s only response this time was to plop down on the floor with a big sigh. He was obviously not as outraged as I was about Holden’s behavior.

  Frustration was building in me with the speed and velocity of a snowball in an avalanche. But since I couldn’t do anything about that, I figured I might as well address my actual avalanche. I turned and finished shoving the contents of my hall closet back in place. Some people had junk drawers, I had a junk closet.

  I’d been upset after my dance with Holden. Then I’d spent a good twenty minutes dealing with Matthew’s ego and cluelessness as he tried to make a case for why we should sleep together. Which served to top off an already frustrating night.

  By the time I got home, I was slam-the-door mad. Literally, I’d slammed the front door so hard it had knocked two picture frames off the wall.

  So, after I returned a call from Molly, who had texted me during my date after someone from the bar told her that Matthew had a wandering eye, I changed into my pajamas, took off my make-up and decided to hang the frames back up.

  When I’d gone into my closet to retrieve my toolbox, which of course was behind a suitcase and under dozens of costumes from my ballroom, jazz, and tap performances, the bar that held them came crashing onto the floor, along with the shelf that held two boxes of childhood mementos. I’d barely registered what had happened before someone was pounding on my door. After the interruption from Holden that I couldn’t quite decipher—if it was sweet or rude—I was in no mood to tackle the closet.

  “Ugh!” I grunted as I stuffed it all back in, and then had to put my shoulder into it to get it to close.

  Channing stared up at me with mild disdain. Or maybe that was just me anthropomorphizing him.