Chapter 8 River
Eight
River
Holden and I snuck out the front door and hurried down my driveway as twilight turned to night. I felt like a thief who’d robbed his own house.
“Let’s take your truck,” Holden said and waved at a driver leaning against the side of a black Cadillac parked just down the street.
“Why? Where are we going?”
“I don’t want you to accuse me later of kidnapping you.” He shot me a heated glance. “Mostly, I just want to watch you drive.”
Fuck.
Everything this bastard said or did, every look that flashed across his eyes, was sexy as hell.
“As to where we’re going,” he said as we climbed into the cab of my Chevy, “don’t worry about it. I’ll navigate.”
I started up my truck’s engine as the black sedan drove away. “That was your personal driver?”
“He was.” Holden turned to me with a grin. “Tonight, it’s you.”
Fuck again.
In the falling dark, we left my upper-middle class neighborhood and headed south.
The houses grew larger, separated by gates and dense trees that provided privacy.
It was a short drive. After only a few minutes, we crested a hill, and the ocean spread out before us, deep blue streaked the orange of the setting sun.
“That one.”
Holden pointed at a huge modern house in white with geometric windows framed in black steel. Every window was dark.
I gave a low whistle and started to pull the truck into the drive. “You live here?”
“Park on the side,” he said. “Can’t leave grease marks on the driveway.”
I parked, killed the engine, and started to follow him out of the truck’s cab when I came to my damn senses.
“Shit, wait. What am I doing? I completely ditched Violet.” I fished my phone out of my tux pocket. A text from her waited.
I’m here. Coming soon?
“I have to go back. I can’t do this to her.”
“She’ll get over it,” Holden said. “Trust me.”
“How the hell do you know?”
“I told you. She and one of my best friends are soulmates.”
“Didn’t seem that way at the party,” I said, then remembered Miller Stratton’s death glare when I joined Violet in the closet. “Miller’s your friend?”
Holden nodded. “We need to give them a chance.”
“But…she agreed to come with me to the dance. I can’t just ditch her.”
“You can if it’s for a good cause. Which it is.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know…”
“Can you please, for one goddamn second, spare a thought for yourself?” Holden demanded with sudden sharpness.
“Is that what you want? To be with Violet? Answer me honestly. If you do, then I’ll get out of this truck, and you can drive back to the school and have your dance and wear your crown and carry on, business as usual. Or…”
“Or?”
“Stay with me.”
Goddamn, Holden’s eyes in the light of my cab pierced me, flooded me with possibilities of a life that was closer to what I wanted. Closer to who I was. So close, all I had to do was reach out and touch it. Him…
I swallowed hard, and my fingers typed a text to Violet.
I can’t make it. I’m sorry.
“An excellent choice,” Holden said, now all smiles. “Stay quiet. This neighborhood is filled with stuffy busybodies. I don’t need anyone complaining to my aunt and uncle.”
“You don’t live with your parents?”
“They died in a tragic hot-air balloon accident over the Panama Canal.”
“What?”
“Just kidding. They’re alive and well in Seattle. Unfortunately.”
He kept walking, and I had to hurry to follow. Quietly, we went up the house’s immaculate walk. By the light of his gold Zippo, he punched in a security code on a black console. It made a mechanical sound, and then the door opened a crack.
I followed Holden inside, my heart pounding in my chest, wondering how far I was going to take this time-out.
The foyer was dark, but Holden didn’t turn on any lights.
Photos were black squares on the white wall, the faces indistinguishable.
The hall opened on an open-concept space: living room flowing into the kitchen.
Sleek, modern furnishings overlooked a backyard of pristine white cement and a glittering infinity pool, its underwater lights glowing.
Beyond the pool, the entire Pacific Ocean stretched out under a full moon.
“Pretty sweet digs,” I said.
“I’ll say.” Holden went to the fridge and rummaged around. “Ah, perfect. Beer. You like beer, right? Or maybe something harder?”
“I’m driving. Beer’s fine.”
Whatever was happening tonight, I was not going to get drunk with Holden Parish. I’d already let things go further than imaginable. Losing control was not an option.
I shoved my hands in my tuxedo pants pockets. “You going to turn on a light or what?”
“I like it better in the dark,” Holden said with a wicked grin as he handed me a bottle of beer. He went to the living room, where he glanced around in the dimness, searching until he found a minibar. “Ah, here we go. Be a pal and see if there are any olives in the fridge.”
“You don’t know?”
“Do I look like I go grocery shopping?” Holden asked, shaking vodka and ice in a silver mixer.
I found a jar of green olives in the stainless-steel fridge.
Just as I started to close it, the yellow light fell over a magnetized family photo on the other door.
Mom, Dad, two kids, all with dark hair, all with white smiles beaming from brown skin as they posed in front of a golden temple surrounded by a huge pool of water.
A little graphic ran across the bottom: Our trip home! Amritsar, India, Summer of 20—
“Fuck me.”
I shut the fridge door and rejoined Holden in the dim living room, sure that at any moment, spotlights were going to glare on us, and police would shout to put our hands up.
I shoved the olives at Holden. “You don’t live here, do you?”
“Never said I did.”
“Jesus Christ, are they home? Upstairs? What the—”
“Relax,” he said, dropping an olive into his martini. “They’re on vacation for the next two weeks. My aunt Mags is friends with the Sridhars and offered to water their plants while they’re away.”
“Dude…this is breaking and entering.”
“We’ve only entered. There’s been no breaking.”
“That’s not how that works.”
He took his cocktail to the sliding glass door that opened onto the patio. “Are you coming or not?”
I stood halfway between Holden and the front door. I could end this madness now and salvage the dance with Violet.
And go back to your plastic, pretend life.
I grabbed my beer off the bar counter and joined Holden.
He carefully set his martini on a small table and stretched his long form out on a lounger facing the pool. I sat on the edge of another lounger, still in my tux.
“Gorgeous night, don’t you think?” Holden said.
“Sure. Perfect for committing petty larceny.”
“No one’s losing their shit over a missing beer and a few olives.” He pondered his martini glass, turning it in the moonlight. “Though they might wonder where a few ounces of their C?roc vodka has run off to. This stuff isn’t cheap, but then again, we’re taking excellent care of their plants.”
“Do you break into people’s houses on the regular?”
“On occasion. It’s easier when the owners give you the security code but not as fun as slipping in unannounced. You’d be surprised at how many people leave a window unlocked.” He shot me a look. “Or their front door.”
“Why?”
“The thrill of it, mostly. And because I’ve only ever lived in a house and don’t know what a home looks like. And yours, River, is the homiest home to ever home.”
I sipped my beer to soothe the sudden ache in my throat. “Not for long.”
“How long is not long?” Holden asked softly.
“She’s a fighter so…a few months? Maybe.”
“I’m sorry. But I’m even more glad that I brought you here. You need a time-out. Whatever you want to call it. A break.”
I started to protest, but he was right. I was tired. Mentally exhausted. I took another pull from my stolen beer. The tightness coiled in my muscles loosened, and I settled into being here. With him.
A few minutes of easy silence passed. The night air was warm, even this close to the ocean. I loosened my tie and shook out of my tux jacket while Holden seemed perfectly content in his heavy clothes.
“Aren’t you hot?” I asked.
“I thought it was obvious.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean. Maybe not now but what about during the day? When it’s pushing eighty.”
“No.”
“Okay, but…why?”
“Why do I dress like it’s winter? Because it always is.”
The words were dramatic but came out on a current of pain, and he drew his thick coat tighter around him.
“You want to talk about it?” I asked after a minute.
“Are you always like this?” he asked, perplexed. “This…nice? I’ve given you no reason to trust me or even like me, and here you are.”
I grinned and took another sip of beer. “I’m still waiting on my apology.”
“Do you still need one?”
Or was I right?
I heard his unspoken question and sighed, toying with the label on my bottle. “I don’t know. That’s the story of my life—I Don’t Know.”
“How does it start?” Holden asked quietly.
“You really want to hear this?”
He held out his hands. “We’re here, aren’t we?”
I nodded and picked at the beer label, slowly peeling it off the glass, letting myself just talk.
“I’ve been eating, breathing, and sleeping football since I could get my hands around a ball.
My dad was set to go pro, but an injury killed his career before it got started.
He was devastated, so he poured all his broken dreams into me.
Pushed me to be the best. From day one, the NFL was the only goal.
Early on, I liked the game. Loved it even.
But it took over everything, and I just…
got lost.” I glanced up at Holden. “The question you asked me in the closet at Chance’s party? ”
He nodded slowly.
“The answer is no one. Not even me.”
I peeled more label, careful not to tear any off from the whole.