CHAPTER 3
HOLLYN
Even though the last thing I want to be doing is eating when I should be on the road; the deliciousness of the sandwich I’m devouring in the café inside Storyville Stories, which is also part bookstore, clearly, certainly helps.
When I saw the cute little shop and café, I figured I might as well stop in.
I wasn’t expecting to be roped into a meal, but here I am.
I’ll probably walk through the book aisles as well. Honestly, it would be a crime not to since I’m here already.
Waiting for word about my car in the café is a lot better than in the waiting room at Easton Auto. It looked like it had some comfortable chairs, but this is better. The best I would have gotten there was some coffee of an uncertain age and powered creamer. No thank you; I’ll pass.
Just as I sit back in my chair, glad for the break I’ve had in this little town, even if it wasn’t part of the plan, my phone rings.
I fumble it a little as I practically dive into my bag to grab it.
The number is unfamiliar, but I answer it anyway while hoping it’s the auto shop and not some telemarketer call.
“Hello?” My voice is tentative while I cross my fingers and send up a little wish—not a Christmas one—that whoever is on the other end will have good news for me.
“Hello, is this Hollyn?”
The voice on the other end of the line is deep and masculine, but it doesn’t sound like the same guy I talked to when I dropped my car off. Whoever that was mentioned his brothers, so maybe this is one of them?
“This is Hollyn,” I confirm even though I’m wary. What can I say? I don’t trust easily; I never have. My tone is prim, and my words are clipped as I ask, “How can I help you?”
The man chuckles, the sound filled with banked amusement, before clearing his throat. “This is Oliver Easton over at Easton Auto? You spoke with my brother earlier after we towed your car in?”
“Yes,” I sit up a little straighter, my voice folding in a note of hope, “do you have good news for me?”
“I guess it depends on what you consider good news,” he muses.
I bite my lip to stop myself from snapping at the man.
It’s not his fault that I want to be on the road.
He has no idea about my plan; one mapped out with Hillary in some of her weakest moments.
The memory of those moments feels like a vice around my heart and chest making it hard to breathe.
It hasn’t been long, and I realize that isn’t helping, but it’s difficult to imagine a time when this pain isn’t as sharp.
Every time I think about my best friend it feels like a knife to my gut, and I’m left looking down at the blood pumping from the wound all over again.
If this is how I have to live, I’ll find a way to deal with it, but, fuck, it hurts.
Losing Hillary is a first for me. Maybe I was sheltered. Or just lucky. But no one I was close to has died. Not until Hillary.
I had no idea the chasm left behind by her absence would be so deep. I had no idea it would feel like she’s still there, just a phone call away, more often than not. Part of the reason I didn’t want to put off this trip was because I thought it might make this whole thing feel real.
If I was on the road by myself then she was gone and every day in the car would be a reminder. But it’s not what has happened.
I shake my head and blink a few times because I refuse to let my tears fall. Not right now. I can’t break down again. Not yet.
“I’d consider you telling me that my car is in fine working order and ready to be picked up to be good news,” I try to keep the snark out of my voice, but I fail. Epically.
“Well,” Oliver holds out the word and my stomach drops, “then I guess I don’t have good news, just news.”
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath which causes Oliver to bark out a laugh. “Fine,” I whine, not caring about what the man on the other end of the line thinks of me, “let me in on the news.”
“It’s fixable,” he begins and I blow out a breath. I hadn’t even realized I was worried about something being so fucked up with my car that getting back on the road would be next to impossible.
He starts talking and telling me exactly what is wrong with my car, but I zone out for a moment. It’s not that surprising; while I appreciate the fact that this guy isn’t talking to me like I’m some stupid little woman who knows nothing about cars, he could just cut to the chase.
I zone back in just as he says, “The parts will take a few days to come in, but once they do the fix won’t take long.”
His words piss me off, but I force myself to count in my head. This guy doesn’t deserve my anger and frustration. It’s not his fault that I’m stuck in some random Colorado town when I should be on the road.
“Okay,” I breathe out as my mind starts to race.
Now I have a lot of unanswered questions swirling around in my head. Where the hell am I going to stay? I didn’t see a motel or anything when I was driving in. I didn’t see a B it’s not like I don’t know about the pace of small towns considering I grew up in one.
“We’ll get the work done as quickly as possible to get you back on the road. ”
“Okay, Oliver,” I try to keep my voice steady even though part of me wants to scream and take all my frustration out on the man delivering the bad news, “thank you. Keep me updated?”
“Of course,” he assures me before promising to let me know when the parts come in so they can get started on the fix.
I nod absently, my eyes moving up and down Elwood as his large body looms over the table I’m sitting at. He would dwarf the dainty table if he sat down. Is it because the table is small or is it because he’s just that big?
Either way, the part of me that wants him to sit so I can crawl into his lap is very loud in my head. Too loud.
I’ve never been the kind of person to rely on a man, or anyone really. It’s easier that way.
Whenever I’ve tried being in a relationship, the guy didn’t want me for me. They wanted to change me, which was never going to happen.
They wanted to make me brighter and more upbeat.
Honestly, they wanted a cheerleader, someone to stand on the sidelines of their life with pom-poms while wearing a short skirt to cheer them on.
Would they do the same for me? Nope, not even a little bit.
Did they care that I would never be a cheerleader kind of girl? Nope, that was immaterial.
Needless to say, those relationships never lasted. They wanted someone like Hillary and picked the wrong girl. I learned a long time ago not to apologize for being me, and I wasn’t going to change myself for a man or anyone else.
After the call is over, I’m left staring up at Elwood. Hopefully, I don’t have a look of awe on my face; that would be embarrassing as hell.
Without me offering, the man sits down in the chair across from me, his light blue eyes intense and focused like he’s capable of reading my mind. It’s for the best that he’s not because right now I’m wondering if everything on this man is as large as I think it is.
“How long is it going to take for the Easton brothers to fix your car?” His voice is curious, his gaze taking me in like he’s soaking me up while not wanting to miss a drop.
“Um,” I uncomfortably shift in my seat, but it’s obvious that he wants the answer, “it could take a week. The parts won’t even come in for a few days,” I admit honestly.
My shoulders slump as I realize just how screwed I am. The only good thing about this situation is having a few days to get some work done on my computer. That is the nice thing about my job, I can do it anywhere I have an internet connection.
Even though my clients have been great about my spotty communication, having a few days to devote to getting a lot of things taken care of will be a good thing. Not like I’ll be admitting any such thing out loud.
Elwood makes a humming sound and wipes his hand over his mouth. My eyes narrow as I look at his lips because I swear he’s hiding a smile behind his hand. What is there to smile about in this situation? Not a damn thing.
He holds his hands up in surrender, reading the danger he’s in on my face with ease. Good.
“Do you need a recommendation for a place to stay?”
“Yeah,” I admit begrudgingly, “that would be great.”
Elwood nods and glances out the window of Storyville’s Stories. “There’s the Rosseau Paradis,” he offers. “It’s built around the hot springs and a little on the fancy side. I can take you out there if you’d like, the library is all closed up now.”
I groan as my head falls back on my shoulders while annoyance fills me. Just my luck that I would find myself in a town where the only place to stay is some fancy fucking resort.
“I don’t need all that,” I admit. “I just need wi-fi and a bed with clean sheets.”
While I have some money in my savings, I have no idea how much fixing my car will cost and I’ve been trying to keep the cost low throughout this entire road trip. It was all part of my plan with Hillary and I’m going to hold to it.
Exhaustion sweeps through me as the days on the road as well as the grief I’ve been trying to ignore weighs me down. This isn’t a huge deal, but it feels astronomical right now. It’s a feeling I hate.
“I have a spare room,” Elwood offers, his voice uncertain while his gaze remains steady.
“It’s yours if you want it.” When I shoot him a look filled with wariness, he smiles softly.
“I’m 30, born and raised right here in Storyville, and I love books.
Books aren’t the only thing I love, though.
I also like hiking, cooking, and music of all kinds.
When it comes to books, I prefer fantasy and memoirs because there’s something special about people leaving parts of their life behind for others to discover.
I have a sister named Greylin. She’s 26 and a partial owner of Green Mountain High which is a dispensary, bakery, and event space.
She opened it with her three best friends who are like sisters to me as well.
I’m single, my favorite holiday is the Fourth of July because of the fireworks.
Christmas is a close second because it’s the only time of year when I can believe in miracles.
I don’t like horror movies but love psychological thrillers.
My favorite color is green and while I’m a good cook, I’m a horrible baker. ”
For some reason, his words, which are a clear attempt to put me at ease, have my shoulders relaxing.
He looked into my eyes the entire time he shared about himself which allowed me to see his sincerity.
We stare at each other for a long time, the silence stretching between us. But it’s not uncomfortable.
Which is what I’m blaming when someone asks why the words slips past my lips, “Are you sure?” With his nod, I let out a breath which feels like it’s been trapped in my chest for far too long. “Okay. Just for tonight,” I clarify while ignoring the way my words taste like a lie.
Elwood’s eyes light up even though he tries to hide it. Fuck. This might be a horrible idea.
He stands up and holds his hand out to me. He murmurs, “How about we go by Easton Auto and grab whatever you need and then we’ll go home?”
As I slide my hand into his while pressing my lips together hoping he can’t see how much I want to smile, I push down how damn good the thought of ‘home’ sounds. His large hand is warm and comforting. It feels like a lifeline, steady and sure, when far too much feels uncertain at the moment.
I remind myself that it’s his home, not mine.
What will I do about tomorrow night? What have I gotten myself into? Why do I feel so safe with Elwood?
None of this makes sense, but I ignore everything that should be making me think twice about this plan and follow Elwood out of the shop without looking back.