Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
The sight of Holden in my childhood bedroom is weirdly sexy. Something about those thick muscles and long limbs sprawled out on my blue butterfly comforter makes my heart race.
Even though his eyes are cast on his phone, a smile curves the corners of his mouth. “Don’t get any ideas… this bed can barely fit me.”
I cross the small bedroom, kicking aside the air mattress he’s been sleeping on and launch myself on top of him.
Holden lets out a surprised laugh as I nuzzle into his chest. His arms come up around me, enveloping me in his warmth. I breathe him in, that masculine scent I've come to love so much.
"Hey you," he murmurs, his fingers trailing up and down my back. I tilt my chin up to look at him, our faces just inches apart as the playful mood shifts.
Holden’s smile fades as his bright amber eyes meet mine. “How are you holding up?” he asks, those intense eyes searching mine.
Slowly, tentatively, I answer by lowering my lips to his.
The kiss starts soft, tender, almost reverent. But it quickly ignites into something more urgent, more passionate. Our mouths come together hungrily as the stress from the last week and built-up tension is finally released.
This.
This is what I need.
I need Holden. Now and forever.
My fingers tangle in his hair and his strong arms tighten around me, pulling me against him. I melt into his embrace, losing myself in the passion that’s been simmering under the surface for so long. We kiss deeply, ardently, making up for lost time. In this moment, even though I’ve been back in Indiana for a week, it actually feels like I’m home.
Holden’s arms, lips, embrace… that’s my home.
Our mouths move together hungrily as our bodies mold. I run my hands over his hard chest, feeling his heart pound in rhythm with my own.
Suddenly the cramped space feels electric. I become intensely aware of how close we are, how I can feel the heat from his body seeping into mine.
Holden rolls us over so I'm beneath him, his weight pressing me into the mattress. One hand cradles my head while the other explores my curves. I ache for him, my skin burning everywhere he touches.
When we finally come up for air, his forehead rests against mine. Our breaths mingle in the scant space between us.
“Katherine,” he whispers and takes my hands in his to stop their roaming.
“Mmmm,” I moan against his mouth. “Less talk. More tongue.”
Pulling back, his eyes meet mine, an intensity in them that makes my pulse quicken.
"We shouldn't..." he whispers, though his body language suggests otherwise as his hands slide down my back. “You’re… it’s just, it’s been a long, intense week.”
“I’m fine,” I say, peppering kisses down his stubbled jaw.
“You’re not fine. Your father just died, Katherine.”
His words strike me, stinging as sure as they were a palm to my cheek. I push up to my elbows and look Holden dead in the eyes. “Yeah and you just found out you might be a father. We’ve both had a shitty week, wouldn’t you say?”
“Those aren’t the same and you know it.”
I snort, pushing off of him and sit up. The moment’s gone, anyway, isn’t it? “Has Megan returned your calls yet?”
With a sigh, Holden rakes his fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. It’s easily a couple weeks past needing a haircut. “You know she hasn’t.”
“Why did she even come to the theater that night if she was just going to launch this grenade between us, then not do anything about it?”
He scrubs his palm down his face. “I don’t know, Katherine. I don’t fucking know. What I do know is that that little boy is either my son… or my brother. And either way, he’s family . I won't turn my back on family.”
“I know that,” I whisper. Hot tears fill my eyes, the full weight of this week catching up with me.
We’re both irritable, drowning in stress without a life raft in sight. In the midst of our frustrations and despair, it’s easy to forget why we care about each other. I reach out and squeeze Holden’s hand, pulling it into my lap.
“She was trying to tell me something the night of my mom’s wake,” Holden says quietly. “But I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to hear it.” He pauses to snort. “I don’t even know if my dad knows about this kid or not.”
There’s not a doubt in my mind that Erik Dorsey knows about Meg’s child. But it doesn’t feel right to say so. Not yet.
“Well, we’ll be back in New York tomorrow and start sorting all this out,” I offer, hoping it sounds more supportive than I feel. I’m not sure what to make of all this yet. Within a couple of months, I reconnected with Holden, lost my father, and potentially gained a future stepson. It was a lot for just about anyone.
But what I know is that I want to be with Holden. And if that means we become a blended family sooner than we thought? So be it.
Holden stands and tugs his suitcase from my closet, opening it and tossing his clothes inside. “You don’t have to come with me yet, you know. You can stay here and be with your Mom longer.”
“They’ve already pushed the opening of our show back more than a week for me. I can’t make them do that again. McCay would kill me.”
“Fuck McCay,” he snarls.
“I’m ready for life to resume. I’ve never felt at home here in Indiana.”
“I’m just saying, you can take more time if you need it.”
Frustration prickles the hairs on the back of my neck. I lean back against the headboard and sigh. I know Holden is just trying to be considerate, but all I want is for things to go back to normal. Or at least, the new normal we’re forging together in New York.
“And I’m just saying, I don’t need it. I need to be back home. On the stage.”
A soft knock at the bedroom door makes us both jump.
"Kate? Can I come in?" my mom's muffled voice calls out, diffusing our growing tension.
“Come on in, Mom,” I say as I slide off the bed and straighten my clothes while Holden quickly zips up his suitcase.
Mom peeks in, eyes darting between us knowingly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything..."
"We were just packing up to head back to the city tomorrow," I explain.
"Of course, of course," Mom says, and fidgets with a box she’s holding in her hands. She looks uncharacteristically nervous.
"Was there something you needed, Mom?" I prompt.
"Oh! Yes, sorry." Her cheeks flush pink. "Two things, actually. First: this is for you.”
I step forward and take the simply wrapped box from my mom, confused. But quickly, I recognize the handwriting of my name on the card taped to the front.
My dad’s.
Four little letters in his thick, bold cursive.
“Your dad has had this gift for you for years.”
My hands tremble as I clutch the box tighter. “Why didn’t he give it to me sooner?”
Mom gives me a small smile. “You’ll see.” Then, glancing at Holden, she says, “ I also wanted to talk to you both about something before you left. I-I wanted to let Holden know I've been thinking more about his offer to buy the pub. The more I consider it, the more it makes sense. The pub has been a burden for years, and the money would really help me out. So if you're still interested, I'd like to accept your offer."
Holden's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he quickly regains composure and strides over to me to pull me into a tight embrace. As his familiar scent envelopes me, I feel myself relax in his arms, the tension from our earlier argument melting away.
"Of course, I'm still interested,” Holden says. “I'll have my lawyer draw up the paperwork when we get back to New York." He smiles warmly at my mom. "I think this will work out for everyone, especially if you’re open to a few small changes here and there to make it more profitable."
“What about Mallory?” I ask.
Mom’s spine straightens. “I’ll handle your sister.”
I worry my lip, not entirely sure my mom is equipped to handle the wrath of Mallory. And not for the first time, I wonder just how much Mallory knows about what happened at the Kennedy Center during mine and Holden’s performance. Tons of people saw that show in DC and still don’t know the whole story. So how does Mallory? Or is she bluffing?
“But,” Mom says, her voice suddenly stern. “I expect your contract to be more fair than that joke of an offer your father drew up for us five years ago.”
“What?” I ask at the same time Holden whips his gaze to my mom.
“What are you talking about?” Holden asks, looking genuinely confused.
Mom’s brows scrunch and she tugs her sweater closed tighter around her. “You don’t know?” Mom pauses looking carefully at Holden. “I assumed that’s what Mallory was talking about.”
Holden still only shakes his head as he falls softly to sit on the edge of my bed. “Tell me… what were the terms of that offer?” Mom is back to wringing her hands nervously and only continues speaking after I give her an encouraging nod. “Well, when Katie was a freshman, he offered us bailout money for the pub. But only if we used some of the money to transfer Kate to Northwestern.”
“Why would he do that?” I whisper.
With tears in his eyes, Holden looks up at me. “Because you were the one person he could never buy off. The one person he couldn’t corrupt or ruin. So he thought he could get to you through your folks.” Blinking, a single tear slips down his cheek and Holden quickly wipes it away. With a deep breath, he looks at my mom, giving her a sad smile. “Luckily, your integrity was obviously genetic.”
Mom sighs and tenderly cups Holden’s cheek. “And luckily your integrity is learned, not genetic.”
The sight of my mom bending to place a maternal kiss to the top of Holden’s head makes my heart squeeze in my chest. “Now come on you two, I made lamb chops for dinner and packed you some sandwiches for the plane tomorrow. It’s time you get back to New York. Indiana was never your home, sweet girl,” Mom adds, giving me a wink.
I turn my triumphant smile to Holden. “See? Told you.”
He stands and follows my mom out of my bedroom toward the delicious scent of lamb and plum sauce wafting toward us. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?”
Mom squeezes me into a hug. “In this case, no.”