4. Holly
FOUR
HOLLY
“No kisses? Not even one on the cheek? I’m so disappointed in you.”
Tracey flung herself back on my worn, green sofa. I’d texted her as soon as I got back home, and she showed up ten minutes later. She was either waiting in town for my text or sped like a demon to get to me. I didn’t bother asking. Both were equally plausible.
“We said goodbye outside, and he ordered an Uber to get him back home. No kisses.”
Just laughter. His question why not you that I couldn’t get out of my head. I’d even offered to take him home, which was not like me. He declined, saying he didn’t want me to go out of my way.
“So how did you leave it then?”
“Are you going to block me after this?” he asked, the cold darkening his cheeks but not the shine of his dark eyes.
I opened my mouth to say yes. He was a risk I wasn’t sure I could afford despite how easily his flattery came. “Not tonight” came out instead.
His grin was as large as the mountain range as I climbed into my Jimmy and shut the door .
“He said he’d call me,” I told Tracey.
“Given the last few weeks, has he called yet?”
Chuckling, I checked my phone and found it blank of all notifications. “Nope.”
“He will.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because he likes you, which means he has good taste.”
I rolled my eyes. She flung a pillow into my face. For a brief moment, I was assaulted with the scent of stale smoke and beer before it evaporated into the air with dust. “Ugh. Gross. And yeah, he obviously likes me. It’s impossible not to.”
Which wasn’t true. Lots of people despised me, but they hated me because of who my parents were. On a good day, I had a pretty decent level of self-confidence, but it was nowhere close to Graham’s. It didn’t mean I thought he and I would ever work, and unlike Tracey, I wasn’t the stray-collecting type. I’d been so busy proving myself over the last few years I wasn’t sure I was any kind of type, but if I was, I wouldn’t have imagined choosing the smirking, flirtatious boy.
And I still couldn’t figure out if he was playing me or genuine. I would never betray that trust…
He’d seemed genuine then…
“I hate that I’m so worked up about this.”
“Maybe that’s because you like him, too.” Tracey suggested it in a voice that was far too sweet, almost like she was afraid I’d throw the pillow back at her but load it with bricks first.
I couldn’t argue with that. Maybe I was starting to like him, but liking Graham wasn’t my only problem.
“My dad called at dinner,” I admitted to her. “I didn’t answer.”
“Has he called back?”
“No, but I haven’t heard from him in a few weeks, so he’ll keep calling whenever he can get to the phones.”
Her face scrunched up. “I’m sorry. Did Graham know?”
“No. But he definitely thought it was weird.”
“You know.” Tracey sat up, kicked her feet off the couch to the worn floor, and leaned toward me. “If he’s as nice as he seems, I doubt he’ll care.”
“That my mom took off and my dad’s in prison? Tell me who in the world wouldn’t judge someone after hearing that?”
“I’m still your friend.”
“That’s because you have no common sense.”
She laughed and couldn’t deny it. We both knew it was true.
“It’s getting late. I should head back.”
“Drive safe.”
I walked her to the door, the whole six steps it took to get there, and waited while she bundled up in her coat and scarf and then stood in the cold doorway until her car backed completely out of our snow-covered, dirty driveway and out onto the main road.
Once her taillights disappeared through the tree-lined, winding road, I stepped back inside and locked my door.
What a day.
What a really strange day.
My stomach was still full from dinner, so I forewent my snack, grabbed my backpack, and plopped down onto the couch to get started on homework.
Except the flowers kept grabbing my attention. The beautiful bouquet that had three dozen roses. I knew it was that many because Tracey had counted them, twice, as soon as she saw them. They were tucked onto the small counter space in my kitchen, and every few minutes I found myself staring at them. Like my vision board, they looked so out of place. So sweet and pretty. And fragrant. I swore they were making the entire trailer smell better.
Graham hadn’t just taken me out to dinner. He’d made it special. On Valentine’s Day. Those flowers had to have cost a fortune given the day. I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt so special and seen.
I was certain no one had ever done something so nice for me.
I was equally certain I hadn’t been nearly appreciative enough.
Which was probably why I set aside my homework and grabbed my phone.
Me: Thank you again for dinner. And the flowers. They’re gorgeous.
Given how frequently he’d texted me before, I almost expected my phone to vibrate as soon as I set it down. Instead, it stayed silent. I got up, went to the kitchen, and poured a glass of water, rifled through the cupboards, and jotted down a quick grocery list. Between working my second job in town, studying, and running to the grocery store, my weekend was already booked. Which meant I shouldn’t have been spending my time thinking about a boy.
My phone vibrated on my coffee table, and thank goodness Tracey was already gone. I moved way too quickly. She would have been in a laughing fit over my hurry to get to the phone. Water splashed over the rim of my glass in my rush to set it down.
Graham: Food was good. Flowers were pretty. How was the company?
Please. Like he had to hunt for compliments. I wasn’t ready to put myself fully out there. That required a vulnerability I didn’t possess.
Me: It didn’t suck.
A laughing emoji appeared like he knew I would say something like that.
Graham: From you, I consider that a compliment. Plans this weekend?
Me: Yeah, hopping on my private jet to Bora Bora.
What did he think I did on the weekends?
I threw in an eye roll and then typed:
Me: Grocery shopping and work. You?
Graham: Asking me questions? I knew you were interested.
Please …well, maybe.
Graham: I’m headed out of town, actually. Nowhere as exciting as Bora Bora, though.
I sat there, fingers poised to see if he’d tell me where he was going. Debated if I should ask when he took the chance from me.
Graham: I need to get to bed early tonight. I’ll see you when I get back.
For some reason, that made me smile. The audacity of this man.
Me: You’re assuming I want to see you. Not even going to ask?
Graham: You haven’t blocked me. You want to see me.
Ugh. I could practically see his smirk coming through his text. Based on the way my cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong. Not like I was going to tell him that.
Me: We’ll see what tomorrow brings.
I tossed my phone to the couch, grabbed my water and television remote, and pretended that hadn’t just happened. That I hadn’t flirted back.
That I wasn’t interested in this guy. Not even a little bit.
* * *
I used my key to unlock the back door of The Premiere Grille, what most locals simply called The Grille. One of the first two restaurants in Deer Creek, it was a staple in town, and my grandparents on my mother’s side had proudly bought it and taken it over when my mom and her sister, Caroline, were young girls. They grew up in this restaurant that was more of a diner than fine dining, and on the days I wasn’t with my father, I was in the office, working on school work. As soon as I was old enough, I started washing dishes. Every year older I grew, more age-appropriate responsibilities came my way.
By now, I could walk through this restaurant blindfolded and find my way to every cooking station and weave around every table and booth without so much as stubbing a toe.
Inside, I shook off the shivers from the frigid cold air outside and unwrapped my scarf. I took the first right into the back office. Caroline’s scattered and messy office was piled with a mess of over-orders and folders. Every spare inch of space was covered in something, so I took one pile and set it on top of another. It was precariously close to tipping, but fortunately, the weight of my purse, coat, and gloves on the table didn’t send it tumbling to the floor.
Although organizing papers might end up being more productive than working out front, it was Saturday, which meant all hands on deck.
I grabbed a server’s apron, tied it around my lower back, and gave Caroline’s office one last scan. Soon, I’d start working on her taxes, and while I was doing so, I’d get this place cleaned and organized.
My aunt fell in love with this restaurant from the very beginning. She not only owned and managed it now, but she spent time cooking, prepping, and serving. It was in her blood.
For my mother, it’d been a job. One she apparently hadn’t liked enough in the end.
For me, it was a means to an end. There was peace in this restaurant, memories of my entire life, both good and bad. But in the end, the bad outweighed the good, and this wasn’t where I wanted to stay forever.
I waved hello to the cooks and the dishwasher, checked the salad station to make sure it was stocked, and found everything cleaned, filled, and ready to go for the day.
Pushing open the swinging metal doors that separated the kitchen from the dining area, I gave the restaurant another scan on instinct. A plastic bin was overflowing with napkin-rolled silverware. Next to it, the water glasses were stacked, and the trays were ready to grab and go. Tables were cleaned. Everything was pristine and set up for the day.
Caroline was talking to one table of two retired teachers. The women came in every Saturday between the breakfast and lunch rushes and spent hours sipping coffee and talking about whatever books they had stacked off to the side. It was their own weekly book club, and there was something endearing about watching them and hearing their laughter.
The front door opened, and a tabletop of six greeted me, three men and three women. And so the weekend began…
“Hi, welcome to The Premier Grille. Six of you today?” I started piling menus into my arm.
“Eight actually,” the gentleman said. “We’re still waiting for two.”
“Sounds good.” I gave him a smile and led them to an area where I could quickly pull two four-top tables together. The men helped, and soon, they weren’t the only ones entering the restaurant for lunch.
Luckily, we were busy, and I didn’t have to spend all day thinking about last night’s dinner. The flowers still sitting on my kitchen counter, the floral scent that filled my trailer, or the late-night flirtatious texts Graham and I had sent.
By the time we were midway through the dinner rush, I was finally able to catch my breath. Weekends at The Grille went either way. Sometimes it was full of locals, making my job difficult, or it was full of weekend vacationers who needed to come down from the mountain and get some food.
Tonight it was the latter, which meant my tip pocket in my apron was bulging. Things were good. I still had three tables, and then I’d be able to go grab my own meal.
I glanced at the door and immediately cringed as our weekend hostess, Emma, walked to the hostess stand.
Mia and Hannah, two girls from my high school, walked in, unzipping their coats as they reached her. “Two, please,” Hannah said. “And not in her section.”
She skewered me with a look that had long since stopped hurting. She didn’t hate me because of my dad. She hated me because in seventh grade Corey Franklin asked me to the middle school dance, and she’d had a crush on him. Ironic that Mia was now engaged to that same boy, and they were still best friends.
Whatever. I rolled my eyes and walked away, going back to help a table that always requested my section, tipped well, and didn’t hold a single thing against me.
“Still having trouble with that?” Eddie Ferentz asked and glanced at the women Emma sat in her section instead. He was one of Deer Creek’s police officers, one of the men who’d showed up at my trailer after the accident to let me know about my dad. Across from him was his partner, Cole Paxton.
“It’s nothing.” I shook my head.
“We can help, you know.”
I smirked at Cole and refilled his water. “What are you going to do? Arrest them for unkindness?”
“I can think of something. You shouldn’t have to deal with that crap.”
There were a lot of things in my life I shouldn’t have to deal with.
“Can’t save everyone, Officer,” I teased.
“I can sure try.” He glared at me, but it wasn’t in anger at me. Protecting people was what he did, and he took his job seriously.
“Let it go, guys. I appreciate you, you know that, but you have to know by now that the town seeing you in here talking to me hasn’t changed a thing and it won’t.” They started coming in after my dad’s arrest to show their support for not only me, but Caroline and The Grille.
It’d been a sweet gesture, and considering no one wanted to be sat in my section at the time, something I was sure they’d gotten wind of through the gossip mill, their generous tips had helped.
But it’d been a full year, and while some people reluctantly let me serve them and take care of them, more than most refused.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eddie leaned back in the chair and grinned. “We come for the pleasant company.”
I snorted. “Sure you do.”
Both men chuckled. “I’ll be back with your checks.”
They came, they ate, we chatted, but they didn’t linger, considering they usually stopped in while they were on duty. And I knew they did that to show up in uniform, making it clear they wouldn’t allow any harassment.
I returned with their checks and set them both in folders on the table. “Have a good night, guys. Thanks for stopping in.”
Cole leaned in closer. “I hope you know that you can always come to us. If anyone harasses you, Holly, or does anything they shouldn’t. You don’t have to keep taking it and putting up with it.”
“I know. I appreciate it.”
We both knew I wouldn’t. Not unless it was serious.
“Take care,” I told them both and went back to work.
It was nice to know I had people at my back, but I’d learned a long time ago to let it go. Sometimes fighting for fairness only made life more difficult, and I’d had enough difficulty.
* * *
By Monday, most of the snow from Friday had melted, leaving the streets and parking lots slushy with small piles of darkening snow scraped off to the edges of the campus sidewalks. The campus was drying by Tuesday, and even better, I found a spot in the covered parking garage. I grabbed my scarf and hat, tugged on my mittens, and then slipped my backpack over my shoulders. By the time I got outside the ramp, I flinched from the bright sun. It took my eyes a second to adjust, and when they did, I cursed at the vision in front of me.
I’d spent far too much time over the weekend consumed with thoughts of that certain smirk and lock of curly dark hair.
“How’s it going?”
Oh. So it wasn’t a mirage or a trick of the sun’s blinding glare.
I stumbled over nothing and righted myself as Graham stepped closer.
“How in the world did you know where I parked?” My eyes narrowed on him. “Are you tracking me? Slip an AirTag into my coat or something?”
As I asked, I patted the sides of my coat. There was no way he knew my parking preference, and I hadn’t been able to get a covered spot last Friday.
“Settle, Spitfire,” he teased, laughing. “This was a best guess based on the business building.”
Well, that made sense. “Oh,” I mumbled.
“Thought I’d walk you to class.”
“How gentlemanly of you.”
“I can be.” He shrugged and grabbed the straps of his backpack as he fell into step with me. “How was work this weekend?”
“Busy.” I squinted from the bright sun. “I work at a diner in Deer Creek that my aunt owns. It’s near the Crystal Mountain ski slopes, so it’s always busy this time of year.”
I felt, more than saw, the weight of Graham’s gaze on me.
“What?” I asked, glancing at him.
“Nothing.” He faced forward. “Just that’s the first information you’ve given me without me having to ask.”
Man, he made me sound super fun and nice. I stopped walking, and it took him a step to notice.
“What’d I say?” he asked. There was a line between his thick black brows.
“Why are you talking to me?”
“What?” He leaned back and scanned the area around us that was quickly filling with students. His chin dipped in someone’s direction before coming back to mine. That same, confused expression on his face. “What do you mean?”
I shrugged. That was a stupid thing to say. “It’s just…I have a lot going on, and I haven’t had a great year, so if this is just a way to pass the time or have some fun…”
“You’re not,” he said, and it was said with such confidence, such depth, I sucked in a breath. “I saw you at Golden’s and thought you were hot, yeah. But you dish out sass, and I don’t have a lot of people willing to be honest with me, so yeah, I like that too. Is it a crime to get to know you?”
Getting to know me wasn’t a crime, but would he be so flippant if I pulled up an article from last winter? Or the summer after my father’s trial?
“Hey, Graham!”
“Marchese!”
People around us shouted his name as they passed. Some grinned and dipped their chins. More than one group of girls laughed as they said hi to him.
I glanced around. “You know a lot of people.”
Graham chuckled. “We’ve been here four years, you probably know a lot.”
I didn’t. I’d always kept to myself even before, and while I didn’t particularly like being alone, I did like not having gaggles of friends ghosting me and spending their time gossiping about me. In hindsight, I was pretty thankful. At least this way if people gossiped, it wasn’t personal…just ignorant.
We stopped walking once we reached the business building. “Thanks for letting me walk you to class, Holly.”
I shook my head. As if I’d had a choice. “Thanks for stalking me.”
He chuckled. “See you around?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“You could have told me to go away, you know.”
Odd. I hadn’t even considered it.
“Maybe tomorrow I will,” I said, but I was laughing, and somehow I think we both knew I wasn’t serious.
Graham stopped laughing first and took a step closer to me. “Can I tell you something that might scare you?”
“Maybe?”
His smile vanished, and something dark flared in his eyes. “You made me laugh that first night, and I liked it. You’re not the only one who’s had a hard year.”
With that, he turned on his heels and sauntered away, leaving me gaping after him.
I was bumped on the sidewalk and shook my head. Whatever that meant, I doubted he’d tell me if asked. Somehow it seemed he knew how to avoid questions as easily as I did.
And I hadn’t even asked him about his weekend.
“How’d you do it?” A blond stepped in front of me. Several inches shorter than me, I jerked back when I realized she was talking to me.
“How’d I do what?”
“Graham Marchese. He never talks to girls. So what’s so special about you?”
She seemed pissed. All dolled up with a face full of makeup and in jeans and a lacy shirt beneath an opened fuzzy coat. She was dressed inappropriately for winter, and most likely whatever class she was going to… unless it was fashion.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I went to move around her, but she slid in front of me. “Seriously. What makes you think you’re special enough to be talking to Graham?”
“Nothing,” I told her and absolutely meant it.
I slid past her and dipped into the building.
Who was this guy? And how did half of this morning’s campus seem to know him?