27. Olivia
Chapter 27
Olivia
I wrote a hate song about you that got me a record deal.
S eeing Holden all serious makes my already anxious stomach flutter with even more nerves, causing the tension to topple straight into nausea.
But I have to tell him.
I don’t know what’s going on between us, but I know we’re stuck with each other for the majority of the next six months for sure, and I can’t do that with all this shit and baggage between us.
“Is it that bad, Hurricane?” Holden is trying to catch my gaze, but I avoid it.
I don’t want to see the look of indifference, or worse, contempt, in his eyes when he realizes everything that’s about to happen will fall back on him now too, with our marriage being public.
“After you left, I wrote a song about you.”
Holden coughs under his breath. “Sorry to tell you, but it’s pretty obvious “Burn in Hell” is about me.”
That was my angry song, which came after the sad song.
Heat rushes into my cheeks, and I avert my gaze toward my feet.
Left, right.
Left, right.
One foot in front of the other.
If you’re lost, just put one foot before the other, baby. Just keep going.
My mom had a lot of different sayings in that beautiful brain of hers. No matter the situation, she’d find the right words for me. Something that sounded wise and somehow always exactly what I needed to hear.
If you’re lost, just put one foot before the other, baby. Just keep going.
But what if to keep going, sometimes, we have to stop?
I come to a standstill, and Holden follows suit.
After a few more breaths of courage, I will the words to spill out of my mouth. “There was another song I wrote first, a less angry one.” I clasp my trembling hands in the kangaroo pouch of my hoodie. “Someone got a hold of it and sent it to Ian and the higher-ups this week, and they want it on the album. The person made it seem like I sent the email, and everyone is ecstatic about the song. They’re not giving me a chance, practically forcing me to record it.”
Holden’s lips draw into a tight line, the crease between his brows deeper than before. “Someone hacked you?”
“It seems so.” I should be relieved he’s focusing on that part of the problem because it’s a big one that needs to be addressed and solved. But my heart feels like it’s been stomped on ever since Heather told me about recording the song with Ian.
“Have you told Archer?” Holden is in full security mode now. He is my bodyguard and protector, stern and calculated, ready to solve any problem we encounter and eliminate any threat. The softness and heat from earlier are gone.
“I told my agent the email to Ian was an accident, but that’s it.”
He opens his mouth to say more, but I beat him.
“Holden. I . . .” Shit, I don’t even know how to say this. “This song. It’s emotional and raw. After you left, I felt so alone and hurt. There’s a reason why this song never saw the light of day. It was only for me and no one else.”
The change on his face is immediate. His features soften, and his whole posture droops.
He knows writing songs is the easiest way for me to let out my emotions. It’s always been my thing. Writing whatever is on your mind is easy, especially since no one will see it. Saying the words out loud lends them a vulnerability I’m not ready for at that stage.
“Hurricane.”
Holden’s gaze is empty, yet too full, a dam ready to fracture.
“Fuck. This wasn’t how I planned to tell you, but I can’t stand this any longer.” His lips part, hesitate, then press shut again, trembling enough to betray his emotions.
My nails dig into my palms until I’m sure they leave marks, and my muscles shift under my skin, bracing for impact. If my gut is correct, this won’t be pretty.
Whatever happens, I’ll get through this.
I’m a tough cookie and have survived worse.
It’ll all be okay.
Right now, I just have to get through it to come out on the other side.
I balance on my heels, my shoulders curled inward. “Please just tell me, Holden.”
The words are barely a whisper, but I know he heard me.
“It kills me that you think I could have just left you behind easily. I . . .” He lifts one of his hands as if to touch me before dropping it again. “Shit. The reason I left is because I went to prison.”
Wait. What?
He went to prison?
Holden drags his palms down his pant legs. “I went to prison because I killed Felix. I’m the reason he’s dead.”
Felix was killed.
My stomach lurches like something rotten is inside it, the same way it always does when I hear that name. My skin prickles with goosebumps, but confusion tries to poke through the disgust and dread, trying to process the other half of what Holden said.
Time seems to slow down to a crawl as I blink at him, because he just said he killed Felix, right?
Or did I misunderstand?
I shake my head, trying to clear the fog in my brain. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. What did you just say?”
This time, he doesn’t hesitate. “I went to prison because I killed Felix. That’s the reason why I left.”
Oh my God, he really did say that.
My heart kicks against my ribs, its rhythm erratic and sharp like a bird got trapped inside. A wave of dizziness rushes through me, and I thoughtlessly reach out to steady myself. “I think I need to sit down.”
Holden grabs my arm, but I don’t look at him. I can’t.
“Are you okay?” His voice is soft, almost pleading.
Grateful for the help, I cling to his arm, close my eyes, and inhale deeply several times. “I just need a moment, please.”
“Can you walk a few steps? There’s a small bench over there.”
I have no idea where over there is, nor do I particularly care, but I nod anyway. “Sure.”
Holden guides me while I keep my eyes downcast.
“Here. Sit down.”
We stop, and Holden gently lowers me.
I plop on the bench, the metal cool and hard underneath me.
Holden doesn’t let go of me. “There’s some water at the pool house. Will you be okay for a second?”
I nod and lean forward to put my head between my knees.
“That’s good. Stay down, and I’ll be right back. Do you need anything else?”
His voice sounds muffled to my covered ears, and I rasp a quiet, “No.”
His hurried footsteps retreat and disappear.
The familiar tinkle sound of Stormy’s collar tag swinging tells me she’s somewhere nearby but probably too occupied with her new playground to see me sitting here.
I try to take steady breaths and stare at the dull green color of the grass, and the neat trim it must have gotten only a few days prior, without a single weed in sight.
But my brain isn’t fooled for more than a few seconds.
Because what the fuck?
Holden killed Felix.
He. Killed. Him.
That’s why he knew Felix was dead. That’s why Holden disappeared from one day to the next without a single word. Without a goodbye. Without a trace or any other sign.
A cold stillness washes over me like my body and brain have forgotten how to function.
This isn’t even close to all the reasons my brain has fabricated over the years.
How am I supposed to react to this news?
How does anyone handle it when their stomach plunges into a free fall that has no end, as if the ground just dropped out beneath their feet?
One foot before the other, baby. Just keep going.
The faint sound of my mom’s voice in my head breaks through the aching hole in my chest, punching the air straight out of my lungs.
The first tear forms, and I let it roll down my nose and fall to the ground. It disappears between the grass blades and into the soil like it never existed. I wish pain were the same way.
One foot before the other, baby. Just keep going.
Another tear.
One foot before the other, baby. Just keep going.
My heartbeats even out, and my brain slowly reboots.
Look at the bright side. Holden never wanted to leave you. He had no choice.
But he killed someone.
He didn’t just kill someone . He killed the guy who did unspeakable things to you. He killed the monster who hurt you and wanted to trap you for the rest of your life.
A laugh bubbles out of my mouth.
It sounds wrong. Too shrill. Too loud.
It opens up something inside me, allowing my emotions to escape.
The disbelief over what my life has turned into—the pain of having Holden back in my life after so much uncertainty and anger. To finally learn the truth, one that’s painful to accept but strangely also offers relief.
Will I finally be able to close that past chapter of my life that was constantly in the back of my mind, no matter how much time passed or how much my life changed?
Holden told me Felix was dead, but a small part in the back of my brain was constantly worried that maybe he wasn’t.
But he’s really gone. Never to return.
A deep calm unfurls within me, a weight lifting off my chest I wasn’t aware of, followed by a soft warmth bubbling in my stomach.
I shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t feel this good over someone’s death.
A strange whimpering noise escapes my throat as a hand gently touches my back.
I start, and the touch disappears.
Something hits the ground in front of me with a loud thud.
Holden is on his knees. “Tell me what to do, Hurricane. Please.”
The words tear out of his throat, rough and jagged, his plea ending in a strained gasp.
He held on to this for all those years.
I have so many questions, because why didn’t he tell me? Why did I never hear about Felix’s death or Holden’s arrest? Why did the police never question me?
Remember, you couldn’t find any information about him online either, and you searched for weeks.
Archer’s name reverberates through my head. He must have erased all online traces of Holden back then. So much work.
But that’s for later. Right now, nothing is as potent as the urge to comfort Holden. My hands are itching with the need to touch him. To console him and reassure him.
I take in his slumped shoulders and hanging head.
The sight only intensifies the heavy ache behind my ribs.
My throat tightens with words that don’t want to form, so I let my body do the talking for now.
I lift my shaking hand and brush it over his hair. Raking my fingernails through his soft strands and across his scalp. I continue, and he closes his eyes almost reverently, like he can’t believe I’m touching him.
This man.
I follow the invisible string in my chest that pulls me toward Holden and drop to the ground before him.
He starts as if a bolt of electricity shocked him, his head shooting up as he stares at me with wide eyes.
I swallow hard against the lump of emotion pressing against my voice and ask the question we both need answered, “What happened with Felix?”