4. Holden
Chapter 4
Holden
Day 47 without you: Happy Anniversary, Hurricane.
SIX YEARS AGO
I reach for the door of the pub when it swings toward me. One second, a gust of cool, late-winter air hits me in the face. The next, a soft body collides with mine.
A chuckle escapes my lips. “Where’s the fire?”
The person steps back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bump into you.”
“No worries.” I shrug and take her in.
Brown hair tied back from her face, pouty lips, and stunning almond-shaped eyes that currently gaze up at me. I can’t tell if they’re green, brown, or a mix of both, but there’s an undeniable spark in them. Although she’s tall, her eyes widen as she takes in my much taller and bigger frame. Something I’m used to at six feet six and two hundred and ten pounds.
“Do you mind?” She gives me a tight-lipped smile and points behind me.
Yup, I’m still blocking the way.
Move, you idiot.
I finally get my legs to work and step aside, making room for her to pass.
She weaves through the heavy wooden tables to the long rustic bar where a server stands with the owner, Tom. Only one table is occupied in the far corner, the man’s eyes transfixed on the large flat-screen TV mounted to the wall. It’ll be a few more hours until the evening crowd will flood this popular place.
Some come here for the drinks and company, others to place bets for the upcoming fights Tom organizes. Since my next one is coming up, he wanted to see me. He likes to check in with me, even if I regularly see him at the gym, where he watches us train. “His boys,” as he calls us. Archer, me, and a few other guys who needed something to keep us out of trouble. Making money from it helps too.
Tom is a good guy, but what does the girl want from him?
I was just about to leave, but now I can’t take my eyes off her.
I drink in her curvy body, because not even the unflattering, oversized grandma clothes can hide them. That round ass deserves so much better.
Tom shakes his head at something she said, and after a quick nod, she spins around and walks back toward me.
With her head held high, she breezes past, completely ignoring me.
Despite her cool exit, I still saw the slight shimmer in her eyes.
She almost had you fooled, just like your sister.
Tom calls me over, but I wave him off and run after the stranger.
The gloomy feeling from the chilly air and dark-gray sky matches the angry car horns that flood the air. Looking around, I spot the girl as the busy New York afternoon crowd swallows her up.
After a few blocks, the girl ducks into a cheap fast-food restaurant. She doesn’t know it—or me—yet, but I’m not far behind. The place appears run-down compared to Tom’s well-kept pub, with sticky floors, ripped seats, and forgotten trash on the tables.
The girl fidgets in line, counting the money in her palm twice before she orders off the dollar menu. She walks right by as it’s my turn, sliding into a booth in the corner.
I hastily grab my order and walk toward her table. “Hey. Do you mind if I join you?”
She stops unwrapping her food and glances up at me. The second she sees it’s me, her brows furrow. After a glance around the almost empty place, she narrows her eyes at me. “What are you doing here? Did you . . . did you follow me?”
Even when she’s down about something, she’s feisty. I love that.
Since I’m not sure what the best reply is, I ignore her question and ask, “A truth for a truth?”
She barely waits a second and shrugs. “Sure. But you go first.”
There’s a silent challenge in her eyes, and on a whim, I share something with her that not many people know. “Today is my sister’s death anniversary, and I don’t want to be alone.”
The confession rushes out of my mouth, surprising even me. Usually, I avoid people on this day.
Her features soften. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
I nod in a silent thanks.
She opens her mouth before I can say anything. “I lost my parents when I was twelve, and I still miss them every day.”
I never knew my dad. And last I heard, my mom was still alive. If you can call her constant drug-induced state alive. It’s been months since I’ve heard from her. Usually, she only calls me if she needs money.
But I don’t want to think about her right now. This day is already depressing enough as it is. “That must have been hard for you. I’m sorry.”
Rather than responding, she stares at me with inquisitive eyes. “Why do you want to sit with me?”
I shrug, continuing with our little truth game. “You looked like you could use some company too.”
She points at the bench seat opposite her. “Sit.”
I squeeze into the booth, and our gazes collide.
She grimaces. “That doesn’t look comfortable.”
“It’s okay. You get used to it when you’re my size.”
We focus on our burgers and fries for a few minutes, neither of us saying anything. As I grab a napkin to wipe my mouth, her head snaps up, and those beautiful eyes pierce right through me.
Her throat bobs on a swallow, but she lifts her chin a fraction. “I need to find a job, a safe shelter I can afford, and a fake husband to save me from being dragged back to my crazy community where I’ll be married off.”
I choke on the small sip of soda I managed to take, waiting for her to laugh and say, “Just kidding.”
But she never does.
“What do you mean, crazy community? Where are you from? Are you safe?”
She fidgets with her blouse. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’m fine. For now, at least.”
Fuck.
Her words repeat in my head, two words specifically.
Save me.
I take in her ill-fitting clothes again. “So you ran away?”
She nods.
“Do you have a place to stay?”
She averts her gaze. “A motel for one more night.”
Shit.
The bench protests when I lean back against the hard plastic. “So let me get this straight. You ran away to find a husband so you don’t have to marry someone else?”
“I don’t want a real husband, just a fake one.”
“A fake one?” At this point, I’m just a parrot.
She nods like we’re talking about something completely normal, and I’m too dense to get it. “Yeah, just on paper, you know?”
“Of course.” I study her. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen.” She clears her throat and mumbles, “Almost.”
My eyebrows shoot up. I don’t even know why I’m surprised. She seems young, especially without a trace of makeup on her face.
But why would someone her age want a fake husband? She said her community is trying to marry her off, but that shit can’t actually still happen, right? Especially if at least one of the involved parties isn’t willing to do so.
I open my mouth to say something, but she holds up a finger to keep me silent.
“Listen, I only told you all of this because of your truth-for-a-truth game, okay? Don’t stress out about it. It’s not like I just proposed to you. I’ll be eighteen in a few days, hopefully making it easier to find a job. Then I can find a place to stay, and things can only look up from there, right? No biggie.”
“No biggie?”
“Yeah.” She nods and takes another bite of her burger.
My mind is spinning, and I’m still trying to process everything she said. It still sounds absolutely ridiculous. She just made all of that shit up. She must have. “Where exactly are you from?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
I inhale deeply, strangely intrigued by this girl. Is it a coincidence that she slammed into my life on one of the worst days of the year?
The memory of the last time I saw my sister pops into my head. Unwanted, as always. She’d dumped her bag in some guy’s car, ready to leave for an “adventure,” as she called it. I didn’t like him. Even when he smiled at her, it felt wrong. She ran back to me and gave me a tight hug.
I hugged her back, and she winced. I hated that she was hurt—something that happened far too often after one of Mom’s boyfriends visited—but I was also upset because she was leaving me. She was the only person in my life who really mattered. The only person who cared about me. Who would make sure I’d have something to eat and go to school? Who would climb into bed with me when one of Mom’s boyfriends was getting angry again? Who would sing me back to sleep when Mom would cry and scream for hours?
She put her hands on my shoulders and gave me a bright smile—her fake one. “I’m sorry, buddy. I know you don’t understand, but I can’t stay here any longer. I’ll come visit once we’re back from our trip, okay?”
I nodded because what else was I supposed to do? I was only twelve, and she was sixteen. Sixteen-year-olds take summer trips with their friends all the time, right? After one more hug, I watched her walk away.
“Be the person they should have been in a different life,” she yelled out the window as the guy revved the engine and sped out of the trailer park. Her familiar sad eyes and big smile were firmly planted on her face. “Be the light.”
It was the last time I saw her.
Two days later, cops showed up at our doorsteps to tell us about the car crash.
My sister was gone, and nothing was ever the same again.
A few months later, I met Archer. If it wasn’t for him and his grandma, I probably would have starved to death. After Mom’s boyfriends started using me as their punching bag, their place became my escape and my refuge when Mom disappeared entirely for days, sometimes weeks on end.
Even back then, I realized my mom was a lost cause. But I should have done more to help my sister. I should have made her stay. I should have stood up more against the men who frequented our place. I should have done something. Anything. But what’s done is done.
I stare at the girl across from me.
“Be the person they should have been in a different life.”
“Be the light.”
I clear my throat to get her attention. “Listen, I know you don’t know me, but Tom—the guy from the pub—he’s my landlord. And right now, the apartment next to mine is empty. It’s nothing fancy, just one bedroom, but it’s definitely better than a motel.”
A flicker of hope appears in her eyes, and I know I’m doomed.
“I want to help you.” The words keep spilling out of my mouth, my jaw firmly set, my mind made up. “I’ll be your fake husband.”