Chapter Twenty-One Hollis
Chapter Twenty-One
HOLLIS
I turn to see Presley’s mom staring at me as if she’s just seen a ghost.
Her eyes blink back tears. Apart from a few more laugh lines and gray hairs, she hasn’t aged a day since the last time I saw her.
She still has that laid-back West Coast vibe, complete with loose linen pants and a long cardigan to fend off the late-day chill from the ocean.
“Hollis?” She steps forward like she’s about to hug me.
My fingers dig into Pres’s waist, pleading for an intervention.
It’s not that I don’t want to hug her mom.
It’s just that I don’t want to hug her right now.
Not after I just experienced the most earth-shattering kiss of my life, and I’m suffering the physical consequences of it.
I shift behind her, a futile attempt to adjust myself.
No, definitely no hugs right now.
“Mom, why don’t we go inside and find the others? Then we can get all the reunions done all at once?”
She eyes us suspiciously. “And you’ll explain what I just walked in on?”
“Yes.” Pres laughs. “We’ll explain everything. Promise.”
She takes my hand, and we follow Tilly up the walkway, but I slow my pace so we fall behind a little. “You’re a lifesaver,” I whisper in her ear.
She snorts. “Pretty sure that’s not the introduction you were envisioning.”
“The making out or the boner?” I joke. “Because walking in on us making out looks pretty convincing.” Is it still considered walking in when we’re outside? I’m not sure.
She snickers under her breath. “The boner, you idiot.”
“Oh yeah, that would have been awkward,” I answer, but then add, “Sorry. I may have let things get a little out of hand.”
“It wasn’t just you,” she whispers. “And like you said, it was convincing.”
I swallow, remembering the feel of her body pressed against mine. “Very.”
“What are you two whispering about back there?” Tilly says over her shoulder, a contented smile now replacing her tears.
“Nothing!” we both answer.
“Some things never change,” I hear her say as we all step through the familiar front door.
The foyer is spacious and open. It gives off a California coastal vibe without coming off corny.
The walls are light to match the white oak floors and the contemporary art.
It feels like I’m stepping back in time.
“No, they don’t,” I murmur as memories assault me of the last time I stood in this very spot.
If I have to be miserable, so does he.
After she dragged me out of here, we ended up in some no-name town in some no-name state, where my mother could lick her wounds after being dumped. Again. I never learned the reason he kicked her out, and honestly, I didn’t care. I started making plans to leave as soon as I could.
And I never looked back.
As if she senses my discomfort, Pres takes my hand and pulls me toward the family room. “Come on,” she says softly. “Let’s go find everyone else.”
Nerves start to settle in the pit of my stomach. I’ve been so focused on Pres and the growing distance between us that I hadn’t given much thought to how I’d react to seeing her family today.
And now I’ve run out of time to prepare.
We round the corner past the impressive staircase to the living room that overlooks the Pacific. I don’t know how many hours I sat here watching the water wink out in the distance.
But today, I barely notice it because sitting on the sofa is Lance Creed.
“Hi, Daddy,” Pres greets him, still clutching my hand. “I brought a guest. Hope you don’t—”
“Hollis!” Lance pops up from the sofa to greet us.
His dark hair has turned a bit more salt and pepper than I remember, but he’s still rocking the vintage band tees and worn jeans.
He’s always kind of reminded me of an older version of Dave Grohl.
He’s even got a pair of stylish black-framed glasses now.
Lance doesn’t even bother with a handshake and just steps right up and pulls me into a tight hug. I tense as years of unresolved feelings toward this man surge to the forefront of my mind. But when I catch a glimpse of my wife, I push it all aside.
I am not here for that. I am only here for her.
“Good to see you, Lance,” I say when he finally lets me go.
“This is such a wonderful surprise,” he replies. “I wish the rest of the kids were all here to see you.”
“We’re the only ones?” Pres asks. Now that he mentions it, the living room is unusually quiet for the Creed family.
“Yeah, I’m afraid it’s just us this week,” Tilly says, coming up to join her husband. “Myles is rehearsing for an audition he has tomorrow. Mercury is sick, and obviously, Hendrix and Zara are still on tour.”
“Cash?”
“Oh!” Tilly laughs at her unintentional omission. “Taylor has a birthday party. Parents are required to stay the entire time.”
Now it’s Pres’s turn to laugh. “Oh, I bet he was thrilled about that.”
“Immensely. You know how much he loves social gatherings.”
“And people,” she adds.
“Wait? Are we talking about the same Cash?” I ask, because the Cash I remember was a total book nerd, but he was also immensely popular. He rarely came home from college because he was always busy with some club he was in or he had plans with friends.
Tilly shrugs, a shadow falling over her. “People change.”
Lance takes her hand as his expression shifts. “So what brings you to Malibu, Hollis?”
“Yes.” Tilly smiles, eyeing us both with a knowing grin. “I’d love to know that as well.”
Oh, here we go…
“Uh…actually, Dad, that’s actually something we’d like to discuss. You see, the thing is…” She falters, trying to find the right way to tell them.
So I just come out and say it.
“We got married!” I announce, grabbing Presley’s hand in mine as both her parents’ mouths drop open. Two sets of eyes land on the matching gold bands they now realize they somehow missed.
“You’re married?”
“It was a spontaneous thing,” Pres says, the words rushing out. “But we’re happy about it.”
“More than happy,” I add. “And we hope you’ll be happy for us.”
They both just stare at us. I can’t tell if being at a loss for words is a good thing—like they’re just processing and trying to catch up—or if they’re trying to find the nicest way possible to tell us we’re completely crazy.
Because, as much as they love me, or used to anyway, this does come off as a little nuts. Especially when a few weeks ago, Pres was here for a family dinner with a completely different man.
A man they all hated, but still.
“Why don’t we go sit?” I suggest, realizing we’re still all standing in the middle of the living room, awkwardly facing each other.
“Good idea,” Pres agrees. She takes my hand again as we all head toward the oversized sectional. It’s different from the one I remember, and now that I look around, I notice several new things in the room. A new abstract painting over the mantel. A fancy TV. A toy box.
Tilly’s gaze stays fixed on our joined hands as we all settle in. Even though I know Presley is holding it to sell our story, I can’t help but feel a little more at ease with her fingers curled around mine.
Her presence has always had that effect on me.
“So maybe we should start at the beginning?” I suggest.
Tilly and Lance nod. “That would be helpful.”
“I’m sure by now Mom has told you that Hollis and I have been talking for a couple of months. It started before that night he called during family dinner.”
Lance’s bushy gray brows furrow as Tilly’s cheeks go red. “Uh…no, I actually hadn’t mentioned that to your father yet. He’s been busy with work, and I wasn’t sure it mattered since we all got to chat with him in the end.”
“Oh.” Pres looks around awkwardly. “Well, that night Hollis called—that wasn’t spontaneous. I called him. We’d already reconnected. Mom was just covering for me.”
“Why did you keep it a secret?” Lance asks.
“Because it was new,” Pres explains. “And confusing. When Hollis first contacted me, I was so glad to have him back in my life, but then my feelings for him started to change, and I didn’t know how to handle that.”
She says it so effortlessly, I almost believe her.
“Wait,” Lance holds up a hand. “Your mother made it sound like you reconnected with him through social media. But he contacted you? How?”
Oh, fuck.
“He texted me.”
Lance’s gaze settles on me. “How did you get her number?” he asks, but it’s not really a question. He already knows the answer.
I let out a heavy sigh. This is a conversation that’s been a long time coming—one I wasn’t exactly planning on having five minutes after walking through the door. But I guess we might as well get it out of the way. “I always had it,” I confess. “I never lost any of your numbers.”
“So all the texts I sent…”
I shake my head, knowing this is gonna hurt. It’s taken a lot of therapy to get me to this point. To finally understand all the things I did to sabotage my own happiness in a futile attempt to protect myself. “I never got them, Lance. I blocked all of you the moment I walked out of this house.”
“Why?” He looks as wrecked as I felt that day.
“Because leaving you was something I could control. Walking away hurt a lot less than staying and someday finding out you didn’t want me,” I admit, as Pres squeezes my hand.
I rub my thumb over the smooth skin of her knuckle.
“I grew up believing I didn’t deserve anything good.
That year I spent with you guys almost changed my mind.
But when my mom showed up here demanding I come with her, it all just fell apart.
Every ounce of self-worth I’d built crumpled at her feet, and I was nothing but a scared little kid again. ”
“I’m so sorry, Hollis,” Tilly sniffles, her eyes glistening with tears.
“We tried everything,” Lance says, his voice hoarse. “I hired a lawyer, but by the time we could work anything out, your mother was long gone, and I couldn’t get a hold of you.”
I manage a sad smile. “It’s okay. I left as soon as I finished school, and I’ve had a good life.” I glance toward Pres, whose own eyes are a bit misty. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”