28. Holt
Chapter 28
Holt
I ’m cracking eggs into a bowl, whisking them like I’m auditioning for a cooking show—probably more than I need to, but hell, it’s the only thing keeping my hands busy right now. My hands are steady. I’ve done this a thousand times after all.
But my mind? That’s a whole different beast. I’ve been awake for a whole fifteen minutes, and already, the air’s got this weird, heavy vibe hanging around. It's like the whole damn house is holding its breath.
Wyatt’s already out, handling something on the property. That man never stops. None of us do. Even snowed in, there’s always work to be done. More, even.
The sound of a door opening makes me glance over. I’m hoping for Ivy, but I’m sorely disappointed when a big, gruff bear-man exits his room. His hair’s an absolute mess. And, despite knowing Ivy is still somewhere in this house, he’s only wearing a pair of gray boxer briefs.
She didn’t come to bed last night. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened.
I throw the eggs into the pan with a sizzle that cuts through the silence. It should bother me. I know it should. Hank’s my best friend, my cousin, my damn brother in every sense that counts. And Ivy… Well, she’s not just some random girl I picked up at a bar, or someone I’d fuck once and forget about. No, she’s different.
I mean, I’ve shared before. I’ve had my fun. A one-night thing, no strings attached. It was just bodies and release. Hell, I don’t even bother with names half the time. But this isn’t that. She isn’t that.
Ivy isn’t just another face to pass the time with. No, I can’t shake this feeling that she’s…mine. But not just mine.
I don’t care that she’s with Wyatt and Hank, too. Seeing her lost in pleasure, drowning in it, makes my pulse quicken. There’s something almost…intimate about sharing her with the people who matter most to me. We’re not just sharing her body; it’s so much deeper than that.
Shit. When the hell did I get all mushy and serious?
I shake my head, cracking another egg into the bowl. Focus. Keep it together, Holt.
“Morning,” Hank says, his voice too casual. I glance at him, and his eyes flicker toward me before dropping to the ground like he’s trying to avoid the obvious tension.
"Morning," I quip back, cracking another egg. "You sleep well?"
He grunts and heads straight for the coffee. Classic Hank—acting like he doesn’t care when it’s written all over him. He’s trying to play it cool, but I’m not buying it. Not for a second.
No, he wants her just as badly as I do. It’s crazy how much I want her. And it’s even crazier how much I want him to want her too.
Fucking hell.
Hank grabs a plate and sits down, not meeting my eyes. Yeah, I’m not letting him get away with this shit.
I lean against the counter, flipping the eggs. “So, you finally gave in, huh?”
He looks over, gray eyes sharp. “To what?”
I snort. “Don’t play dumb.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Holt.”
“Really? Because my girl didn’t come to bed last night. And I heard some pretty interesting sounds coming from your room.”
Hank takes a slow sip of coffee, pretending like he’s not affected. He is. And it’s driving him insane.
I let the silence stretch, waiting him out.
“Not a big deal,” he mutters eventually.
I laugh. “Right. Not a big deal.”
Hank watches me like he’s waiting for me to lose my shit.
“You mad?” he finally asks.
“Why would I be?” I slide the eggs onto a plate. “Wyatt and I have been trying to tempt you for weeks.”
I’m flipping the eggs onto the plate, trying to distract myself. This whole situation has got me all twisted up. Then finally— finally!— the door creaks open, and there she is. My Ivy.
“Morning,” she says, voice a little off, without the usual playful tone she always carries.
“Morning,” I reply, but my voice sounds different too, a little tight, a little unsure.
Does she think I’ll be upset about what happened with Hank? She clearly hasn’t been paying attention if she does.
She sits down at the table, taking a quick look around but not making eye contact. I put the plate of eggs in front of her. I made them the way she likes, but she doesn’t pick up her fork and start digging in. She just pushes the food around on the plate.
Huh.
She looks down at the coffee I made, then takes a sip. I watch her face shift like the taste is something she wasn’t expecting.
“Too strong,” she mutters, setting the cup back down and pushing it away.
What’s going on with her lately? She’s been acting weird as fuck.
I grab my own plate and sit across from her, trying to keep it casual. "You sure you're okay?”
She doesn’t look up at me, but I see her stiffen just the slightest bit. She doesn't answer right away, and when she does, her words are short, clipped. “I’m fine”
She’s not fine. I’ve seen her fine, and this isn’t it. She’s been off for days now, maybe longer. I lean back in my chair, watching her, but she avoids my gaze, keeping her focus on her coffee cup like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
“You’ve barely eaten anything,” I say, trying to keep the concern out of my voice. “If you’re not feeling well, I can make you something else. Toast, maybe?”
She takes another sip of the coffee, cringing as she does. “I’m not hungry.”
I watch her for a moment longer, the unease settling heavier in my gut. She’s acting weird, but it’s not just that. She’s jumpier than a deer in hunting season. Napping randomly. Quick to snap when she’s usually so calm, so collected. Her eating patterns are all over the place too. One minute, she’s snacking nonstop, the next she’s not hungry at all. She seems to hate foods she used to love and now she’s barely touching her breakfast.
Is she getting cabin fever? I mean, yeah, I get it. She’s a city girl, used to the hustle and bustle. Being stuck in this cabin for weeks with nowhere to go, no one to see—it’s gotta be getting to her. Even if we are keeping her entertained.
Is she…is she plotting her escape? Maybe she’s already thinking about leaving once the roads clear. Fuck, I hope not. I’m not done with her, not even close. I don’t want to let her go.
The roads do clear a few days later, and the first thing Ivy does is ask for a ride down to town. My heart sinks like a stone.
“I can take you,” I say, trying to sound casual.
She nods and doesn’t say much else.
Fuck, baby. Please don’t go. Not yet.
Wyatt comes in, stomping snow off his boots. “What’s this about town?”
“Ivy needs a ride,” I say.
He grins. “I’ll tag along. Check in with Mason about your car, City Girl. I’ve got to run a couple errands, anyway.”