Chapter 30 River #2
“That’s what I heard. Awesome, man.” I waited for a twinge of jealousy to find me, that he was living the life I could’ve had. It never came. “Who’re you hoping for?”
“Anyone but the Browns,” he said and laughed. “Kidding. I’m just ready to play.” He cocked his head. “Don’t you miss it?”
“Not even a little.”
“I’m going to have to take a little offense at that. Our signature Whitmore-to-Weatherly bomb was highly satisfying.”
“Those were pretty sweet, but I like cars more.”
“Cool, cool.” Donte’s trademark smile downshifted to a nervous grimace. “So yeah, I just came to see how you’re doing. It’s been a while. You free to grab dinner or a beer tonight?”
“Can’t,” I said, holding his gaze. “I have a date.”
Donte shoved his hands in his pockets. “That’s cool.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, I do. Whatever makes you happy, you know?”
“Since when?”
“My girlfriend’s brother is gay. I’ve been getting to know him and—”
“And lo and behold, it dawned on you that gay people are human too?” I snapped, the anger rushing to the fore. I sucked it back in. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I deserve it. And no, it dawned on me that I’ve been an asshole. That you needed my friendship, and I didn’t give it to you. I withheld it at the worst fucking time and for the dumbest fucking reason. You are who you are, and I miss you. I miss my friend.”
“Me too,” I said, not realizing how much until I’d said it.
Donte shook his head, remorse painted all over his face. “I’m sorry about all that shit that went down. I should’ve visited you in the hospital after the accident. I should’ve… Christ, I should’ve been at your mom’s funeral. I’m sorry, River. For whatever it’s worth.”
“I’ll take it. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Gratitude washed over his face, and he gave me a hug. “I am sorry, man.”
I clapped his back and pulled away before the cracks in the dam began to burst. “It’s all good.”
“So this date…” Donte cleared his throat. “Is he hot or what?”
I burst out laughing.
“Shut up.” He chuckled. “It’s a valid question.”
“I guess he’s good looking. I haven’t really thought about it.”
He’s not Holden.
Donte’s brows scrunched as if he’d read my mind. “Hey, whatever happened to that guy with the silver hair? Holden, right? Weren’t you two together?”
“We were but not anymore,” I said, my throat tightening. “He’s in Europe. Just published a book, actually.”
“Oh yeah? Any good?”
“It’s fucking brilliant,” I said with more energy than I meant to. “I mean, yeah. It’s good.”
“Cool. Well, I’ll let you get to it,” Donte said. “Let’s hang out though, before I’m shipped off.”
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
“All right, man. Good to see you.”
“You too.”
I watched Donte leave, like a ghostly visitation from my former life.
I’d been on autopilot for the last few years, letting the days slide over me, filling them with work so I didn’t go crazy missing all the people who were absent from my life.
Having Donte back felt good, but the biggest voids remained raw and empty.
I finished up work several hours later, went to my place, showered and changed for my date, feeling like I was about to cheat on Holden.
“Knock it off,” I told myself, pulling on a black T-shirt, jeans, and boots. “He’s not coming back. No calls. No texts. Live your life.”
My life. Whatever that was.
I met Brad at El Palomar, off Pacific Avenue. He was already there and waved me over to a table for two in the center of the restaurant. Brad had dressed in jeans, a blue button-down, and a sport coat that made me feel casual by comparison.
“Hey, good to see you,” he said, smiling brightly. He had a nice smile. Thick, light brown hair, nice build, nice eyes.
He’s so…nice, said a sly voice that sounded like Holden. How nice for you.
I smirked to myself, but phantom Holden was right. Brad Martin was nice with a capital N, and he’d make someone a great boyfriend; it just wasn’t going to be me. Before the waiter came to take our drink order, I knew we weren’t getting to a second date.
I listened hard as Brad told me about himself, letting him do all the talking while despair sank its teeth deeper with every passing minute. I wanted Holden. Three years gone except for one night in Paris, and I was still waiting for him.
When the check came, I grabbed for it quick, ready for the night to be over.
Brad’s hand covered mine over the little tray. “I should get this. I asked you.”
“Nope, I’ve got it.”
I slid my hand out from under his dry touch. I’d wasted his entire night. The least I could do was pay for dinner.
Outside the restaurant, we drew on our jackets and lingered in that awkward what-do-we-do-now post-date silence.
“You want to go somewhere?” Brad asked. “Grab a drink?” His nice smile turned suggestive. “I had a good time tonight. Kind of don’t want the night to be over.”
He leaned into me, his breath salty and tinged with his margarita’s biting sweetness. For a heartbeat, I froze, willing to let it happen. For Brad to kiss or even fuck Holden out of me so I could get on with my life.
Instinctively, I reared back before Brad’s lips could touch mine. “Sorry. I can’t. Early morning tomorrow.”
“Uh-oh,” Brad said, smiling tightly. “Pretty sure that’s code for this isn’t going to work.”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you… I’m getting out of a relationship.”
“Oh yeah? Did it end pretty recently?”
It hasn’t ended.
“Yeah, pretty recent. I thought I was ready to get out there, but I’m just not.”
“Well, it was a nice dinner anyway.”
Brad gave me a hug, and again, I waited for my body—deprived of sex for three years—to respond. But Brad smelled different, felt different in my arms, and I let him go easily.
“Have a good one, River.”
“Yep. You too.”
Holden, you asshole. Where are you?
We went our separate ways, and I drove back to my apartment. I flipped on the light and tossed my keys on the table by the entry. Hard. My heart pounded in my chest, and I fought for control.
I stripped down to my underwear and climbed into bed with Gods of Midnight. Again.
Because I’m fucking pathetic.
But in moments, I was lost in the complex story of one man, Oliver, who lives a seemingly perfect life—loving husband and career—but who dreams of another version of himself every night: Jules, who lives a wild, reckless life of sex, drugs, and alcohol…and who dreams of Oliver.
Holden seamlessly wove their narratives together until the climax where Oliver and Jules see each other on opposite sides of the same bathroom mirror in a seedy club in Amsterdam.
When their reflections touch, they’re transported to a black lake in a snow-covered wasteland.
Both struggle to the surface, but only one climbs out, shivering and naked.
The reader is left not knowing which one emerged or if either truly survived at all.
Maybe the life of one man was merely a drug-induced hallucination of the other as he died in that Amsterdam bathroom. Maybe not.
I felt Holden’s conflict dripping from every page, his yearning to be free of his demons, and the relentless power they wielded over him. But the open ending was a big question mark, leaving me without answers.
A sudden growl erupting out of my chest, I hurled the book across the room. The hardcover smacked the dresser and landed face down, pages bent and the spine dented.
“Fuck.”
The silence in the small apartment crowded in, and I nearly let go. Nearly screamed and let every ounce of grief—for my mother and for Holden—come pouring out. I felt it rise in my chest, like a boulder that needed to be coughed up.
It was going to hurt.
It was going to tear me open.
I fought it down while part of me begged to let it out.
My phone rang. Violet. I sucked in a deep breath. Then another. When I trusted my voice, I answered.
“Hey, Violet.”
“Hey, you,” she answered. “You sound terrible. Chest cold?”
I cleared my throat. “No, I’m…fine.”
“Oh good. I know it’s late, but it’s been too long since we spoke.”
“It’s been about a month. Not that I’m counting,” I added, forcing a smile over my words. “What are you up to? How’s Miller?”
“He’s great. Perfect, actually, now that he’s done with touring.”
“I’m happy for you, Vi.”
“Thanks, River.”
She quickly changed the subject, as if her happiness would chafe against my loneliness. She updated me on her medical school progress and how she and Miller were planning on moving back to California as soon as she graduated from Baylor.
“Having you here will not suck,” I said.
“I can’t wait. I miss it so much. So, what are you up to?”
“Guess,” I said bitterly.
“Reading Gods of Midnight.”
“You forgot to add, for the sixth time. Don’t sugarcoat my pathetic existence.”
“Stop. You’re not pathetic. First of all, the book is brilliant. I’ve read it twice myself. Second, it’s all him. As if he ripped himself open and laid it all out there.”
I closed my eyes. “I know.”
“You still haven’t heard from him?”
“No. So I did something stupid and went on a date.”
“You did?” Violet practically shrieked. “That’s great, not stupid at all. Why do you say that?”
“Because it was pointless. I wasted the guy’s time, and it felt like I was cheating on Holden.”
“River,” Violet said quietly. “It’s been three years since you’ve been with anyone. Two years since you’ve seen him. You’re allowed to live your life.”
“I know, but I told him I’d wait for him, no matter how long it takes. But Christ, sometimes I feel like I’m going to implode. Taking care of the family, the business…”
“Who’s taking care of you?” Violet asked gently.
“I’m fine—”
“Stop saying fine. I can hear the hurt in your voice. Makes me want to jump on a plane tonight. How are you really?”
“Not great,” I admitted. “It’s why I went out, Vi. To make a connection or…I don’t know what. But it was a mistake.”
“Was he an asshole?”
“Just the opposite. He was a good guy. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t anything.” I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. “Maybe I’m not gay after all. Maybe I only want Holden.”
“Or maybe you’re just in love with him.”
“Yeah, well… It’s looking pretty one-sided. At what point do I give up?”
“You don’t. When it’s real, you can’t give up. I’ve loved Miller since we were thirteen years old. Fate and circumstance tried to keep us apart, but it didn’t work. Nothing will. You and Holden will find each other again. I know it.”
“Thanks, Vi,” I said, genuinely grateful for her love and support, but her theory only worked if Holden felt the same way about me.
All I had was his book, but if the answer was within its pages, I couldn’t find it.
Or maybe that was my answer—nothing.