Chapter 2
TWO
IT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME.
B riar
The song drifting through the radio is one I know by heart. The Jonas Brothers. It was playing when I met him. It’s our song. At least, it used to be.
That’s all it takes for my mind to return to the one thing I’ve been trying to avoid: Vancouver, and the guy I fell in love with there. Or maybe it was just lust.
I knew the second I saw him; we had an instant connection. I wanted to know everything about him. Every time he touched me, it felt dizzying, like I was spinning on the fastest carnival ride.
But that time in my life is behind me. As hard as it was to leave my hometown, he gave me no other choice. I had to do what was best for me. So here I am, back in Reed Point. I’ll get through this, even if it means starting over. Every day seems to get a little easier. I haven’t thought of him or how he humiliated me since I boarded the plane at YVR—that’s one whole day. It’s not much, but it’s progress.
I roll down the window as I turn onto Haven Harbor, taking in the view of the ocean from the secluded street. Stupid song. I don’t want to think about him. Not today and actually, not ever again. Breathing in the salty air, I pull my car in front of the small split-level beach house that I’ll be calling home for the next couple of months.
I’m still not sure how this happened. One minute I was practically homeless and the next, I’m moving in with Holden Banks. I may have been distracted by that disastrous phone call, but I definitely noticed how good he looked when he showed up at Daisy’s place today. Fresh off his run, his dark hair a mess. He felt good too when I wrapped my arms around him. I didn’t need to pull him into a hug, but I saw the opportunity and I took it. I wasn’t going to miss the chance to feel his rock-hard body up against mine, and it didn’t disappoint. I bet he has chiseled abs under his shirt. I bet his skin would feel so good under my fingertips. He probably would be great in—
“Are you coming?”
Startled, I whip my gaze out the window to find Holden standing there, staring at me expectantly. I lift a hand to shield my eyes from the blinding sun. The temperature on the dash reads 94 degrees and if it wasn’t for the air conditioning in my car, I would be sweltering. A blush heats my cheeks as I swallow. “Yes, yes, I’m coming.”
“Thought you might need some help with your things.”
I smile. “I don’t have much. Most of my stuff is still in storage.”
I follow Holden to the back of my car, where I watch him pop the trunk then begin lifting my suitcases from the car.
“Let me show you inside.”
“Okay, thanks.” I open the car door and take Bear’s crate from the back seat, then I follow Holden up the driveway to the front door. I follow him inside, slipping off my Converse before setting Bear’s carrier down in the living room .
My eyes drift around my temporary new home. I immediately notice that it’s spotless. Every surface is clean and dusted, everything is put perfectly in its place—though “everything” may be a misleading description.
The place is practically bare. There is a black, oversized leather chair and matching couch in the living room with a single black throw pillow. There are no knick-knacks, no family photos on the bookshelf, no artwork on the walls—none of the personal touches that make a house a home.
Is he a minimalist or something? Maybe he isn’t planning on living here long? Maybe Tucker took most of the décor with him when he moved in with Daisy?
“This is nice, Holden,” I say, because the house itself is nice. The kitchen looks like it has been renovated, and the large windows reveal a beautiful view of the beach across the street. It’s just lacking character. Charm. Personality.
“Thanks.” Holden picks up my suitcase and nods to the stairs. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”
Up five or six steps is the second level of the house. There is a bedroom on the right which I assume is Holden’s, a bathroom on the left and then another smaller bedroom. He pushes open the door to that room and then steps aside, motioning for me to go ahead.
“We’ll have to get you a bed,” he says, following me into the completely empty bedroom.
“Oh. I didn’t realize your spare room isn’t furnished,” I say, my voice echoing off the walls. “Holden, I really appreciate the offer, but I don’t want you having to buy a new bed. Really, I can get a room at The Seaside.”
“It’s fine, Briar. We can get you one. It’s just won’t be today. For now, you can have my bed.”
Holden looks at me, nodding like he expects me to go along with it .
“I’m not sleeping with you, Holden,” I tell him, and he frowns at me in response. God, he’s still so attractive when he scowls. Broody and arrogant and ruggedly handsome. Why does he have to be so hot?
“What? Why are you scowling at me?”
He shakes his head, his frown deepening. “I wasn’t asking you to sleep with me, Briar. I was offering you my bed until we get you one. I can sleep on the couch.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. “I’m not taking your bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.” I grab the handle of my suitcase, ready to drag it back downstairs to the living room.
“You’re not sleeping on the couch. You’re a guest. I’ll change my sheets,” he says, motioning down the hall to his bedroom. “I’ll be in my room for a bit catching up on emails if you need anything. Just make yourself at home. I’m going to turn in early, I need to be at work for 7.”
“What do you eat in the morning?”
“Why?”
“I was thinking I’d make you breakfast.”
The frown returns. “It’s fine. I’ll grab something on my way to the office.”
“I’d just like to do something nice for you, since you’ve been so kind to let me stay here.”
“It’s fine, Briar.”
“Okay, so you don’t like breakfast. Got it.” I say, pushing the handle of my suitcase down to the base.
I’m about to tell him again that I’m not okay with taking his bed, but he’s already gone, stalking down the hallway to his bedroom, closing the door behind him a little harder than necessary.
He hates me.
Dropping my face to my palms, I squeeze my eyes shut, regretting my decision to stay here. I should have thought this through. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Maybe I just need to give Holden a day or two to get used to having me here.
Holden and I spend the rest of the afternoon locked away in our respective bedrooms. Attempting to get my life together, I unpack my suitcase, organizing my stuff in the bedroom’s small walk-in closet. I let Bear out of her carrier and watch as she explores the empty room, looking for an escape hatch. After spending an hour or so on the floor with my laptop, I stand and stretch, realizing how hungry I am. I tuck Bear back in her crate and then head down to the kitchen to make myself something to eat.
There’s no sign of Holden, who must still be working upstairs in his room. I open the fridge to find it’s about as empty as my new bedroom. There’s a liter of milk, a bunch of energy drinks, parmesan cheese and a few apples in the crisper. The state of his pantry isn’t much better—I find some pasta and a few different boxes of cereal. Does this man live on energy drinks and Cap’n Crunch?
I’ll go to the grocery store tomorrow.
But for now, I can make spaghetti. I take the parmesan from the fridge and grab a small bottle of olive oil and salt and pepper from the kitchen counter.
I’m tossing the cooked pasta in a pan with a splash of olive oil when the creek of a floorboard down the hall stiffens my spine. I was hoping I wouldn’t see him for the rest of tonight, but I guess a man has to eat. Especially one of Holden’s size. He must be six-foot-one. Probably 200 pounds, maybe more with all that muscle. And that is exactly the reason I was hoping to avoid him.
I can’t look at the man without imagining him naked. Imagining what he has going on under his clothes. Does he have chest hair? Is he hiding a 6-pack or an 8-pack under his T-shirt? How big is he? Is he long and straight or does his dick have a curve to it?
I look up from the stove to find Holden leaning against the doorframe, watching me. I feel my heartbeat kick up a notch. Why can’t I just look at him like a roommate? Or Tucker and Daisy’s best friend?
Because he’s ridiculously hot, that’s why. Too attractive for his own good. And any girl in my shoes would want to see Holden Banks naked.
“Briar.” He snaps me back to reality.
Turning my attention back to the pan, I sprinkle in some parmesan and toss the noodles to coat them. “Hey.”
A pair of gray joggers and a faded Reed Point University T-shirt grace his body, stretched perfectly over his pecs and broad shoulders.
God, he’s perfect.
“I was going to order us takeout. You should have told me that you are hungry.”
“Oh.” I awkwardly shrug my shoulders. “That’s okay. I made enough for both of us but if you’d rather order in, that’s fine. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”
I turn my gaze to meet his sea-green eyes and find him staring back at me with a frustrated expression. Does he just hate pasta? Or avoid carbs? His reaction catches me off guard. It’s becoming crystal clear that Holden Banks isn’t interested in my cooking or my company. I’m surprised by this version of him. I didn’t know him very well when I last lived in Reed Point, but he always seemed so fun and charming.
“You don’t need to cook for me, so we’re clear, but it smells good. Thanks.”
He grabs two plates from the cupboard and sets them down next to the stove. I pile pasta onto each, and then he takes them to the table. I slide into the chair opposite his.
“Can I grab you a drink?” he asks before shovelling a heaping forkful into his mouth.
“I’m fine, thanks. Not a big energy drink girl. I’ll make myself a cup of tea after dinner.”
“Huh.”
I pause and look at him, my fork hovering halfway to my mouth. “What’s the huh for?”
“Nothing, I just didn’t take you for a tea drinker.”
“What’s wrong with drinking tea?”
“Nothing,” he says through a mouthful of pasta. “If you like water-flavored nothing.”
I shoot him an unimpressed glare before taking a bite. “So, what you’re saying is, I’m not going to find a selection of tea in your pantry?”
Holden laughs. It’s the first one I’ve heard from him all day. “Unfortunately for you, you won’t. But I have water, that’s practically the same thing, right?”
“Well, that’s a start.” I smile, noticing the crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “What’s your favorite drink?”
Holden hums, sitting back in his chair. Another frown. I immediately miss his smile. “A cold beer. Gin. A cup of coffee in the morning.”
“I can’t stand the taste of coffee. I’m telling you, there’s nothing better than a steaming cup of peppermint tea before bed. You should try it sometime.”
He shrugs. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Holden is cute when he’s not wound so tight.
We finish our dinner in silence. Holden keeps his head down, which gives me the opportunity to sneak a few glances at him. Thick chestnut hair with a slight wave at the ends. Sharp jaw with a five o’clock shadow. Deep, green eyes.
It’s strange how he’s been nothing like the guy I got to know before I moved to Vancouver. Not that I knew him well, but because our best friends were dating, we were together at a few parties. He seemed playful, always up for a good time. This Holden is different. He’s quiet. There’s something mysterious about him.
After we eat, Holden insists on washing the dishes while I tidy the kitchen. I keep my mouth shut when he begins to clean the countertops again, going over the same surfaces I just wiped down.
“Thanks for the company,” I say when there’s nothing left to clean up. “I’m … um…going to have a shower.”
“There are towels underneath the sink, and I changed the sheets on my bed. It’s all ready for you,” he says, not looking up as he scrubs at the sink. “And before you try to argue with me… don’t.”
“Holden—”
“I said don’t.” He places the sponge in its holder and then finally lifts his eyes to meet mine. My knees go weak.
“Okay,” I relent, sighing in resignation. “Thank you.”
He holds my stare, unwavering, before I turn to leave.
“Hey, Briar?” he calls, stopping me.
“Yeah?”
“Who’s Braxton?”
My shoulders stiffen. “A friend of my ex’s.”
“Then who’s Justin?”
“No one important. Not anymore.”
“If he’s not important, why won’t you tell me who he is?”
I flinch, doing my best to act like talking about my ex is not a big deal. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time. ”
His eyes hold mine as he leans back against the counter, one ankle crossed over the other. He looks relaxed in his gray sweatpants, his feet bare. But I can see the concern in his gaze. He must have picked up on the tension when I mentioned Braxton and Justin to Daisy earlier today.
Drop it. Please drop it. Holden and I shared a nice dinner together. It feels like we’re beginning to get along. Talking about Justin will definitely ruin the mood. But the way he’s looking at me, the way he’s refusing to look away, tells me that he doesn’t want to let this go. It’s unnerving, but also undeniably sexy.
“Fine,” I sigh. “We used to date. Back in Vancouver.” The words taste sour on my tongue. “Until he decided he didn’t appreciate monogamy. He just didn’t bother to tell me he had moved on until I found them together on my couch.”
Holden’s jaw tightens, a pulse ticking below his cheek. But he doesn’t speak. He just stands there, motionless, watching me as I nervously talk about my ex.
“It was humiliating. I sort of lost my mind for a little while. I keyed his car and gave all his stuff to Goodwill while he was at work. So, he got his.”
Holden looks impressed. “I bet he was pissed.”
“An understatement.”
“He deserved it. And just so we’re clear, as long as you’re staying here with me, you will not be calling Justin or his friend. For anything. He doesn’t deserve to talk to you. He doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you. Understand?”
I swallow. “Understood. Now, I need you to drop it. Please. I want to move on with my life and it’s easier if I forget he ever existed.”
Holden nods.
“Thanks. ”
I leave him in the kitchen and head back up the few stairs, grabbing a pair of shorts and tank top from my temporary closet before going to the bathroom. Talking about Justin made that old hurt return to my heart. I turn on the shower and step under the hot spray, taking slow, deep breaths until the pain subsides. I tell myself I’m fine.
Will this feeling ever go away? Every damn time I think about Justin it comes right back, strong as ever. The way he betrayed me. The way he humiliated me with the photos that were supposed to be for his eyes only.
I should have known better with a guy like him. I should have seen the warning signs; there were enough of them. For months, there was a voice in my head telling me something was off, but I ignored the red flags. I pretended we were good. God, I was good at pretending. Sometimes I swear I even believed the lies I told myself.
But never again will I allow myself to be used like that.
If Holden only knew the half of it, but he never will. I don’t need to relive that humiliation.
I allow the spray to wash over my face and my shoulders until I turn off the faucet, towel off and get changed. I quietly glance down the hall to make sure Holden isn’t in his bedroom. I stand outside his door, stiff and uncomfortable in the dark. Assuming he has already gone to bed on the couch in the living room, I nervously push open the door and pad into his room.
The first thing I see is his bed— it looks like a king size— with crisp white sheets and a dark gray bedspread. Not surprisingly, the room has no photos and very few personal items, but the window gives a nice view of the beach across the street. There’s a dresser with a TV mounted on the wall above it and two side tables with table lamps that he must have turned on for me. That was sweet of him, I think to myself, doing my best to keep my racing heart in check. There’s something so personal about being in someone’s bedroom. I feel like I shouldn’t be in here, but I cross the room anyways and crawl into his bed.
And that’s when I notice the mug on the nightstand, filled with steaming hot water, a tea bag still steeping— peppermint tea.
I take the mug from the table and raise it to my lips, settling back into the plush pillows behind me.
Maybe Holden doesn’t completely hate having me here.