16. HOLDEN
HOLDEN
The jack creaks as I crank it up another inch, the car lifting just enough to take the pressure off the tire. Gravel shifts under my knees, biting through the thin layer of my shorts. It’s quiet out here—too quiet for all the activity going on inside my head.
Hattie stands off to the side with her arms crossed, keys dangling from her fingers, and impatience practically vibrating off her.
Dad could’ve come to help her. Hell, he would’ve if he’d seen the text before I did—she’d messaged us both. But I’d jumped on the opportunity like an idiot and took it for what it was.
An out.
As much as I don’t want to admit it—even to myself—I needed that excuse to leave Korie’s bed.
I didn’t want to. That’s the problem. I could’ve stayed there all day if things were different. But I’m trying to turn over a new leaf… or something.
It’s hard to remember my reasons when lust is still churning through my system.
Tightening my grip on the jack handle, I clench my jaw and crank it again, pouring all that frustration into the motion.
The memory still hits hard—Korie curled into me, warm and soft and right where they’ve never been before, their breath skating against my neck, one leg thrown over mine like it belongs there. In all the years we’ve shared a bed, we have never slept like that.
I woke up twice hard as rock, half-dazed and trying not to move because if I did—if I shifted even a little… well, I didn’t trust myself enough to find out. I would’ve slid a hand somewhere I shouldn’t have.
So yeah. I left as fast as humanly possible.
“Hey,” I say, dragging myself back to the present. “Where’s the—uh—the thing for the lug nuts?”
Hattie just stares at me.
“You know? The thing?” I crank my hand up and down.
Very slowly, Hattie reaches directly in front of me—right in front of my damn face—and grabs the wrench sitting on the ground where I’d set it not thirty seconds ago. She presses it into my hand.
“Oh.” I ignore the white hot embarrassment crawling up my neck. “Right. Sorry. Not awake yet.”
She hums low and completely unconvinced.
“You know, you could be doing this too,” I say. “Dad taught you how to change a tire just as easily as he taught me.”
“And mess up my work clothes? No, thanks.” She folds her arms. “But, um, thank you. And thanks for bringing the spare.”
I force my attention to the tire and tighten the lug nuts one by one. The metal gives with a soft creak.
Hattie’s gaze darts down my shirt to my shorts. “Why are you wearing that?”
“What? This? You got it for me, remember?”
“Yeah, for special occasions. I told you that when we got it. It’s a dress shirt.” She gasps. “Wait, did you go out with someone?”
“No. I just… hit the clubs.” The lie comes too easily, too fast, and much, much too flat. Hattie probably doesn’t believe it, and I don’t dare look at her to find out.
I keep my head down, shoulders tight, and eyes fixed on the tire.
She lets it go for about three seconds. “I guess that explains it then.”
“Explains what?”
“Your mood. You must’ve had another late night. Was it someone from the club?”
I flinch. That shouldn’t sting as much as it does.
“Something like that.”
She snorts. “Hey, at least one of us is getting it.”
“Hattie,” I complain. “Please. Can we not talk about this? Or like, at all?”
I really don’t want to hear about my sister’s sex life.
Hattie taps her foot, looking at her phone. “Dammit, I’m late.”
I finish securing the tire, then dust off my knees as I get to my feet. “There. You owe me one,” I say flatly.
“Yeah, whatever. Thanks, little brother.”
I roll my eyes. “Ninety seconds, dimwit. We were ninety seconds apart.”
“Still my little brother!” She waves as she crawls into the car.
I stand there for a second after she leaves, staring at the empty stretch of road. Now what? I could go back, crawl into bed with Korie, and make us some breakfast. But I know I shouldn’t. I need to be good. If I go back, I definitely won’t be able to keep my hands to myself.
With a frustrated groan, I climb into my car and drive off in the opposite direction. Toward home. I do a load of laundry, clean up my apartment, send Korie a few too many gifs, then head into work.
It’s Sunday, which means no summer camps today—thank God.
Imagine my surprise when I step through the front doors and get slammed with high-pitched screams and echoing shouts. I nearly turn around and walk out.
Ellis looks like she’s barely holding it together when I reach the front desk, dark hair slipping from her tight bun.
“Why are we so busy?” I ask. Sundays are usually our quietest day of the week.
“There are back-to-back birthday parties all day,” she explains.
I drop my head back and groan. Of course there are.
“Hurry. We need you on the floor.”
I toss my stuff into my cubby and pour myself some of the gross break room coffee before heading out onto the floor. I’m going to need it.
Two hours later, my attitude hasn’t improved.
I’m standing in the middle of the mat, watching a teenage boy scale the forty-foot wall.
“Feet higher!” I snap. “You’re not even trying.”
The kid startles, unaware that someone had been watching him. He scrambles to adjust his footing.
Great. I’m officially that asshole today.
I regret raising my voice. He was trying. He just… isn’t experienced.
“Sorry. Just—watch your footing. Put your weight on your toes. That’s better. And don’t reach too far either.”
The kid nods, still a little wide-eyed, and keeps climbing.
“Damn,” Blaine mutters as he passes me, arms full of harnesses. “Who pissed in your coffee?”
“No one.”
“Uh-huh. You’ve been snappy all day.”
“I have not.”
He’s right. I’m in no mood to deal with restless kids. Grabbing a stack of ropes, I start coiling them, tighter than necessary. My hands move fast, practiced muscle memory taking over while my brain stays somewhere else entirely.
Did Korie find the note? I’d left it on the pillow like a coward instead of waking them up. Maybe I should’ve, given their insecurities.
Shit. What if I hurt them? What if taking the easy way out ruins what we just started?
I toss a rope into a bin a little too hard. It tips over, spilling the contents.
“Holden.”
I glance up to see Ellis leaning against the counter and watching me like she’s trying to solve a puzzle.
“You’re gonna take someone’s head off if you keep that up,” she says.
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah,” Blaine cuts in. “You’ve been fine, alright. Super approachable. Ten out of ten customer service.”
I flip him off without heat, but drop my hand when I see a kid looking in my direction.
“I didn’t mean just the climbers,” Ellis says in a stern tone.
They’re both watching me as if waiting for an explanation for my mood. But fuck that. They’ve had bad days too. They can give me one without an interrogation.
“Just cool it, you hear?” Ellis says finally. She rarely calls people out on their behavior, so she must know I’m borderline losing my shit today.
I sigh. “Yeah.”
Turning away, I grab another rope and keep working. If I stay busy enough, maybe I won’t think about them.
About how perfectly they’d felt in my arms.
I already want to go back to Korie.
God, even thinking their name makes me smile.
Soon, Kor. Hopefully we can be together again soon.
It’s late by the time I finally clock out. The damn birthday parties made us work an extra two hours cleaning up their mess.
My shoulders ache, my hands are raw, and my head pounds harder than it has in a long time. But I’ve reorganized half the gear room and fixed things that have been broken for months, which is better than yelling at more innocent kids.
After grabbing my things, I step outside. The evening July air is hot and sticky, the parking lot half full. My mind drifts to Korie, where it never really left.
I’ve thought about them all day long. Every idle moment.
It’s crazy how I ache for them in a way I never have before—in a way I didn’t even know was possible. How could I want someone this badly when they’ve been right there my whole life?
I pull my phone out to call them and see there’s already a text waiting for me.
Korie: Thinking of you… xo
And just like that, the weight of the day disappears. I smile instantly.
I type a message as I walk. Hope your day was okay. Miss you.
Three bouncing dots appear almost immediately, as if Korie was waiting for me to get off.
Korie: Hey. Do you want to grab dinner?
My shoulders shake as I stifle a laugh.
Me: You asking me out now? ;)
Korie: I mean… yeah. Can you blame me? ;) I want to see you…
Warmth spreads through me, making every step feel lighter. Damn, these feelings. Where were they hiding all these years?
But I know I need to say no. I’m one bad decision away from bulldozing through every line I’ve been trying to hold, and I don’t want to ruin what we’ve started.
I hit call as I climb into the car.
Korie answers on the first ring. “Hey.”
I drop my head back against the headrest, happy to hear their voice. “Hey.”
“So… dinner?”
“I’d love to, but I can’t tonight, Kor.”
Korie is quiet for a moment. “Oh. Okay.”
“It’s just been an insane day. I’m wiped.” That part isn’t a lie. I’m probably going to crash as soon as I get home.
“No, yeah. I—I get it.” They don’t sound like they get it at all. They sound disappointed.
I keep talking to Korie the entire drive home. When I walk into my apartment, I slump on the couch, missing them like crazy.
“Hey, Kor?”
They hum.
“Can I ask you something?”
Korie shifts on the other end, and I imagine them stretching out on the couch. “Yeah.”
“Did you always know you wanted to be a radiology tech?”
“That’s—what?” They laugh in surprise. “Where did that come from?”
I chuckle and scrub my face, sighing deep. “I don’t know. Rough day at work, I guess. It’s making me rethink my life choices.”
“Ah, Holden. Don’t do that. You love the gym. We all have hard days.”
“I know. It’s the kids. They’re exhausting.”
“You say that every summer.”
“Because it’s true. They’re energy vampires.”
They laugh.
Reaching over my head, I tug my shirt off and toss it to the floor. “Tell me, though. I want to know. When did you know that’s what you wanted to be?”
Korie is quiet for a moment. “Mom took me to work with her when I was… I don’t know, maybe eight or nine?
I saw how the machines worked, and how the doctors could make entire diagnoses from a single picture.
And it just fascinated me. I fell in love with it right away.
” They shift again, voice lowering. “I think radiology school actually helped me understand myself too, weirdly enough.”
I rub my chest. “What do you mean?”
“It helped me see how we’re all the same inside.
I mean, sure, we’re different obviously—biologically.
But there’s so much of us that’s the same.
And there’s so much of who we are that we’re taught too—how we’re expected to present ourselves.
” Their voice lowers. “But not everyone fits the boxes we’re given. Some of us live outside them.”
Korie had loved radiology school. They talked about it so much that I felt like I could pass their classes before it was over. But I never realized how it brought them clarity in their own journey too.
“That’s a good way to look at it,” I say. “Can I ask you something else?”
Korie waits.
“You don’t need to answer, but I’ve always wondered why you never went on hormones. You talked about it a few times, but then you never did.”
Korie makes a soft sound. “HRT, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
They’re quiet for a moment before saying, “You’ve never asked me that before.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to.”
Korie hums, as if pleased. “You can always ask me about this, Holden. I’d want you to.”
I roll to my side, waiting.
“I did consider HRT, but ultimately, it never felt right. I’ve drifted between male and female so many times, I didn’t want to change my body in a way that might only fit one part of me. I need something that can move with me, not lock me into one place.”
“What about your pronouns?” I ask. “I don’t think you ever told me why you stayed with they/them.”
“Same thing, honestly.” I hear them moving around again, and I picture them pulling that big purple blanket around their shoulders.
Aris sings in the background. “In the beginning, I tried different pronouns depending on how I felt, but it just made everything… louder, I guess. Like I was constantly explaining myself. They/them fits all of me, no matter where I am on any given day. It feels right, you know?”
I don’t know. I can’t possibly know what Korie is going through. But I try anyway. “It makes sense. But just know, if you ever need me to change something, all you gotta do is ask, okay?”
Korie is quiet for so long, I almost think I said the wrong thing. Then they sniffle. “Thank you.”
I wish I could touch them. Whenever Korie opens up about this, there’s always something in their voice that stands out to me—a quiet determination buried under everything else.
I’ve learned not to mention it or to call them brave. Korie doesn’t like that word being associated with their identity. But what else are they if not brave? Honest. Authentic. All that is true, but so is brave. I’ll never see them any other way.
We talk until my words start to blend together and I can’t make it through a sentence without yawning.
“Do you want to go?” Korie asks with a soft laugh.
“Not really,” I say. “But yeah, I think I better. Can we talk tomorrow?”
I can hear them smile, even if they’re disappointed. “Of course. Good night, Holden.”
“Night, Kor.”
I drop the phone onto my chest, telling myself I’ll get up for food in thirty seconds.
I’m out within five.