17. KORIE
KORIE
It’s been three days of Holden and me dancing around our schedules and connecting only through the phone. It makes me want to scream.
The heat that was simmering when he left my apartment is damn near boiling now. So when my sister calls to invite me to dinner on my day off, I jump on the opportunity just to get my mind off Holden.
She lives an hour away, but the drive helps clear my head. All the gorgeous desert scenery through some of the more rural parts of Southern California is something I’ll never get tired of. Honestly, I envy their house tucked away in the hills.
The front door flies open before I even cut the engine of my Mini Cooper.
“Momma! Korie’s here!”
Macy and Jocelyn bolt down the walkway like tiny hurricanes, all wild hair, flying limbs, and unlimited joy. I barely have time to open the door before they’re on me.
“Hey—whoa—okay,” I laugh, crouching down to hug them. “Miss me that much?”
“Yes!” Jocelyn declares.
“Obviously,” Macy adds, like it’s ridiculous I’d even ask.
I grin and kiss each of their heads. Macy stands a foot taller than Jocelyn now, looking more like her mother every day. Over their heads, I spot Cooper in the yard, kicking a soccer ball toward a net. He waves when he sees me.
I always knew Trista would end up with a house like this—full of noisy, endless energy. It wouldn’t surprise me if they added a couple more kids someday. She always wanted to adopt, like our parents did.
I take Macy’s hand as we walk toward the house. Trista greets me on the porch. “Perfect timing. Chris is pulling the ribs out now.”
My stomach growls.
The kids talk endlessly through dinner with rapid fire stories about their summer adventures, the horseback riding they’re looking forward to next month, and so many other things. It’s hard to keep up.
Finally, I tap Macy’s elbow. “Go get your yo-yo. Let’s practice those moves.”
The seven-year-old perks up, dashing out of the room.
As we sit on the floor in the living room, one child on each side of me, and Jocelyn in my lap, an image of Holden with a toddler in his arms hits me so hard it knocks the air from my lungs.
Woah. Where did that come from?
Would Holden even want that? I can’t recall him ever saying he wanted kids, and after his comments lately about the kids at work… who knows. Why am I even considering it, anyway? I’m not sure what we’re going to become.
I show the kids another trick with the yo-yo, earning a surprised laugh from Jocelyn.
“Where’d you learn this?” she asks.
I do the trick again. “Your grandpa taught me when I was your age,” I say. “He used to carry a yo-yo with him at work. Did you know that?”
Macy seems stunned.
“He said it helped him think through some of his tougher cases.”
Macy’s interest in the toy intensifies. She wants to follow in her grandfather’s footsteps and become a doctor.
After a few minutes, she asks, “Korie, why do you wear makeup?”
I smile at her. “Because I want to. Do I need another reason?”
She thinks about it, then shakes her head. “Lily at school said it’s weird for boys to wear makeup.”
I flinch. “Well, I think it’s weird for everyone to be the same. Don’t you?”
She scoots closer to me. “I think everyone is weird, so it’s kind of a moo point anyway.”
Trista chuckles. “Moot point, honey. Moot. With a T. But good use of the phrase.”
I tickle her stomach. “I’m impressed you even know it. You must be smarter than me.”
Macy agrees.
Once the kids are herded off for evening baths, Trista hands me a wine cooler and tips her head toward the back door. “Come on.”
We settle onto the patio swing, our feet tucked under us. The late evening air wraps around me just as it had last week at the play. The memory makes me smile into my hand.
“That’s the third or fourth time you’ve tried to hide a smile from me,” my sister says. “Anything I should know?”
I avoid looking at her, taking a long sip of my drink. “Nope.”
“Nope as in no, there’s nothing, or nope as in I don’t want to talk about it yet.”
I can’t contain another smile even when I try. But I don’t answer.
My older sister nudges me. “Fine. I won’t pry. But just know you’re not as sly as you think you are.”
“Maybe you’re just seeing things.”
“Oh, I’m definitely seeing things.” Her voice lowers. “And whatever it is, I like it.”
That gets my attention. I turn to her, and the warmth in her expression beckons me to open up. I almost say it. The words sit right there, ready to spill.
Holden and I might be dating. We kissed. He’s giving me butterflies. Everything is shifting so fast that I still haven’t caught up.
That part makes my chest tighten. I haven’t seen him since the second date to know if it was all real or if we were just caught up in the adrenaline. But would we stay up late talking on the phone every night otherwise?
Either way, I can’t tell Trista. She knows Holden. Hell, my whole family does. Telling her would open a can of worms I wouldn’t be able to close.
Besides, I’m a little afraid of what she might say. Would she judge me? Call me crazy? Or would she support me like she has in every other adventure in my life?
I’m not sure which way I want her to push me.
Trista squeezes my shoulder before getting up to water her plants. When she’s a safe distance away, I check my phone. No new messages. Fuck, I came here to distract myself from Holden and clearly it isn’t working. I miss him.
Finally, I get to my feet and go to my sister. “I better go. But call me the next time you’re in town.”
Trista hugs me tight. “You know I will.”
In my car, I send Holden a picture from the view from my sister’s front yard.
Me: Think we could ever live somewhere with a view like this?
I realize how it sounds after I hit send, and my heart jumps into my throat. I shouldn’t imply we have a future when we haven’t even talked about things yet. I’m not sure this is what he wants—or even what I want.
But the dream plants roots, anyway.
It’s all I can think about on the drive home—Holden and I in a nice house with a few kids and a couple of dogs, laughing on a front porch with empty takeout containers at our feet. It’s so vivid and real that my heart aches for it.
I didn’t think I was ready to date again. But ever since the play—since The Gravis Garage, really—I can’t seem to shake the pull I feel toward Holden, and worse? Since he kissed me, I can’t seem to see us the way we were before. It’s unsettling.
An hour later, when I’m out of the car and walking on a sidewalk, I pause and blink up at the gray siding.
“How—oh my God,” I laugh to myself.
I look up at the window of Holden’s second-story apartment. How did I even get here? Am I that desperate to see him again that I drove here without realizing it?
Just as I am about to get into my car to leave, Holden’s black sedan swings into his reserved spot directly next to my car.
Our gazes lock through his windshield, and heat rushes up my neck instantly. I can’t read his expression in the dark—but I don’t need to.
Holden is out of his car so fast, grinning from ear to ear as he pulls me in for a tight hug. “What are you doing here?”
I was just asking myself the same thing. “Just… you know. Thought I’d say hi.”
His earthy scent, along with the smell of chalk and musk, is addicting. My arms slide up his back. It would be so easy to turn and kiss him… and I want to. Does he?
I pull back, needing to see his face, but Holden chases me, kissing me softly. Heat and joy and something like relief rushes through me. I lean into him, kissing back. Holden groans softly, pulling me tighter against him.
I’m breathless when he finally lets go.
Holden smiles at me, then pulls me toward his front door. “You hungry?”
“I ate at Trista’s.”
He seems surprised. “You went to your sister’s?”
I shrug, hoping not to reveal too much. “Just for a few hours. It was nice. Taught the kids more yo-yo tricks.”
Inside, he kicks off his shoes by the door and tosses his keys on the table, then pulls his shirt over his head as he walks to his room to change.
I force myself to turn away, set my bag on the table, and lean against the back of his couch.
When he comes out a few minutes later, Holden is still smiling.
He makes himself a sandwich then grabs us some drinks before we sit down, and his hand immediately lands on my knee. I lean into him, sliding my arm under his.
Holden’s eyes are soft, his touch gentle. “Admit it. You got tired of talking on the phone, didn’t you? Had to see me?”
I elbow him in the ribs. “Don’t get cocky.”
He laughs.
When he lifts his arm, I curl against his side, arm across his middle. We stretch our feet out on the ottoman, but he doesn’t bother with the TV. Instead, we talk, legs tangled together and arms around each other like we’ve done this a thousand times.
“You know,” Holden says after a while, voice lazy, “I’m a little surprised you haven’t taken my poster down yet.”
I turn my attention to the hideous Black Eyed Peas poster on his wall and groan. “One of these days, I will. And I’m going to burn it. You’ll thank me for it.”
“You’ll have to get me a new Sleep Token one to put in it’s place.”
I sit up, eyes wide. “Are you finally admitting you like them?”
He scoffs. “Hell no. But if it makes you not want to burn my apartment down, then I guess I’ll tolerate it.”
I make a face, shoving him.
Holden holds his stomach as he laughs.
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. You tolerate my music?”
“Hey, we like a lot of the same stuff. But Sleep Token is—”
I hold a finger up as a warning. “Be very careful how you finish that sentence.”
He thinks about it. “Mildly good.”
I narrow my eyes. “If Sleep Token is mildly good, then Daughtry needs to retire.”
He gasps like I’ve wounded him. “Don’t you dare!”
I laugh under my breath, and he smiles immediately, like he likes hearing it.
The room goes quiet again for a second, comfortable and warm. I lean back against him, tossing the blanket over us.
Holden makes a show of tucking one side under his ass. “Better lock it in before you steal it.”
“I do not steal blankets.”