Chapter Twenty-Three Hollis
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hollis
Monday came and went. Fast, but also somehow slow.
Reed had kept his distance most of the day, but it helped that we had a few distractions and obstacles between us from sunrise to sunset: Audrey and her son.
They’d kept me busy with movies, baked goods, and even board games while Delta Shield chased leads.
But we were now in Tuesday territory, and that hourglass Reed had tipped over Sunday night would run out soon, and his team still had nothing. Not a single lead to speak of, and the idea of reaching out to my family made me physically ill.
I paced my bedroom, on the verge of spinning out.
Gone was the happy middle between fearless and panicky.
I was teetering on the edge of full-blown anxiousness.
I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, not even Reed.
I hated when people looked at me like I was a stranger, even if I’d stared at them like that.
I collapsed onto the bed, resting my head in my palms, trying to chill out.
I needed to find something to distract myself with while I waited for Audrey to get here with Chase.
They were currently at a skating rink. Ryder was taking a brief break from work to spend time with his nephew, because apparently he used to play hockey and Chase loved the sport.
Reed had turned down my request to join them, which made sense. Probably shouldn’t leave the house. But then he’d also turned down watching more episodes of Mad Men with me.
He had to clean his guns. Sure, sure. He was just too scared to sit next to me on the couch. Worried our hands might brush against each other and we’d violate the three-foot rule he’d broken himself Sunday night when reaching for my chin.
I drummed my fingers on my legs, trying to come up with a plan to still my body.
Maybe the sauna would help? I made up my mind, grabbed a towel from the hall closet, then went into my room and took off my clothes, leaving only the chain on to mask my tracker.
I wrapped myself in a towel and made a hurried rush for the gym. I flung the door open with a little too much force, and remained stuck between the two spaces like I was in limbo.
With my one hand, I held the towel tight above my breasts, every part of me prickling with awareness at the fact I’d barged into his space like this, which was going to wind up on his list of rules, no doubt.
Still, urgency outweighed dignity, so I hovered there, waiting for him to notice me.
He was bent over a rifle, oiling the barrel with surgical precision in front of his wall of gun safes. The steel trapped in those safes could arm a small country.
He lifted his eyes, slow and steady, from my bare feet up my body.
My stomach dropped at the look in his eyes. Dark and unreadable, like he was seeing more than he wanted to. “And you’re wearing a towel—why?”
I tipped my chin toward his sauna, feigning bravado while my grip on the terry cloth tightened. “I’m feeling anxious, which I don’t like at all, and I’m bored. I think I need to sweat whatever is happening to me out of my system.”
Ranger ran around me and into the room, nails clicking on the floor, barking like he already knew the ground beneath me was giving way. Yeah, me too, buddy.
Meanwhile, Reed stayed maddeningly calm, wiping oil from his palms.
“The reason I’m spiraling, even though I know that’s out of character for me, is because we’re going on hour thirty-four of those precious forty-eight.
” My voice pitched higher, fraying at the end.
“Still nothing since you set that countdown. Cero. Zéro. Sifir. Nada from that Italian guy who’s supposed to be intimidating.
Zilch from Carter. No info from Sebastian and his secret society.
” Forget anxiety, I was officially free-falling into rock bottom every second I stood here.
“Ughhhh. This isn’t me. I know that. I don’t pace or freak out.
I know I don’t.” I crossed the space to him, Ranger glued to my side.
“Make it stop. Please,” I begged, feeling a tremor shoot through me.
Reed stayed silent, like anything he said could be used against him in a court of law.
I held my hand up so he could see just how far gone I was. The evidence of my anxiety was right there, my entire body visibly quivering.
He dropped the rag and abandoned his three-foot rule. He slid his warm palm under mine, his fingers steady and unyielding as he cradled my shaking ones.
His hand was rough, and the smell of the gun oil lingered, yet his touch was grounding.
Warmth pressed into my skin until the tremor slowed just as it had the last time we held each other like this.
My pulse didn’t slow, though. It hammered harder, out of sync with the calm he radiated.
We stood there, palms locked together, breaths mingling in the narrow space between us.
“Don’t focus on trying to act how you think you’re supposed to.
” His voice dropped low, almost intimate.
His eyes lingered on our joined hands before climbing up the line of my arm until locking on to my face.
“It took years for you to become the woman you are. Your past shaped you and how you respond to the world.” He smoothed his thumb along my hand once—absent-minded or maybe not—before he finished.
“If you can’t remember your battle scars and all that you’ve endured .
. .” He let the words trail off, but the heat in his eyes burned like he’d said them anyway.
I blinked hard, fighting for composure. “I—I feel like me sometimes. Other times? Like an empty shell of nothingness, and it hurts. It’s the worst feeling,” I sputtered, hating getting emotional on him, but I couldn’t stop it.
“You’re in there somewhere, I promise.” He took me by surprise again, drawing his other hand to my chest, partially over skin and the towel. “They may have taken your memories, but they didn’t take your soul. That’s the real you. Everything else is just flesh. Your spirit is unchanged, untainted.”
Those were the last words I’d expect from a man who claimed to be bad with people. It was like he’d just written scripture right onto my body. I could even visualize the words scrolling over every inch of my skin, calming me down.
“You’ll come back to me.”
I waited for him to correct the Freudian slip of me, but he didn’t. He just kept staring at me as if he could see through my flesh to that soul he’d been alluding to.
I squeezed down the lump in my throat and tried to will away the tears. “Okay,” I mouthed, unable to get my voice to carry the word. “I, um, still would like to sweat it out, though.”
“You really think it’ll help?” he asked as he slowly retracted both hands.
My breath snagged at the loss of his touch. “I think so.”
He sighed, shoulders falling with that deep breath. “Ten minutes, max.”
“Will you stay in here to keep an eye on me?” I half smiled. “I mean, to ensure I don’t faint or something from the heat?”
At his hesitant nod, I took that as my cue to hurry to the sauna before he could change his mind. Inside, I shut my eyes and prayed, not just for my anxiety to go away but also for a miracle. For even just one memory to return.
But after ten minutes passed by, I nearly cried when he opened the door and nothing ever came. I did feel a little better, but I was pretty sure that was thanks to him, not the sauna.
“Fourteen more hours left,” I muttered, remaining frying on the wooden bench. How hot did he like it in here? This heat was brutal and beyond what a human could tolerate.
“That number’s not fixed in stone. We can push it to tomorrow afternoon. Only surrender to your family if we have to and when you’re ready. That help?”
Having one more full day? Actually, yeah, it did. “Yes.” I lifted my head. “Thank you.”
“I’ll run it by Ryder and the team when they get back from the rink. I’m sure they’ll be fine with it.” He braced the door open with his shoulder and offered me his hand.
Breaking your rule again, huh? I stood, and of course, my towel started to slip. I caught it fast before I wound up flashing him. That didn’t stop his eyes from flicking down my body, his mouth tensing as if holding back what he wanted to say.
He was probably even more grateful for my fast reflexes than I was.
And now, the heat in the sauna had nothing on the heat of his stare when his intense eyes found mine.
He remained staring at me for a few quiet moments before letting go of my free hand.
He stepped aside, keeping the door open with his body so I could exit.
He shut the door and went for his phone, and I circled him, curious whether someone had texted with an update. “News?”
He shook his head. “My mom.” He slid the phone back into his pocket, his dark gaze drifting from my collarbone to my neck.
Was he remembering when he’d held on to me there? Because I was. A rush of desire pooled between my legs at the mere thought of that exchange on Sunday. At least I now had a few new memories flying around in my head to think back on, since I was missing almost thirty-five years of my life.
“Everything okay?” I hesitantly asked, worried about broaching the subject of his parents. I licked my salty lips, nerves tangling me up again.
“She wants me to visit my, uh, dad. She doesn’t get that I can’t just drop everything whenever she calls.”
“Does she know what you really do?”
He frowned, then shocked me by actually answering. “No. Just that it pays much better than the army. I got out because . . .” He propped his hand on the sauna door, muscle flexing.
I didn’t press or poke. I remained a good girl. If he wanted to tell me about his past, that was his choice. He’d asked me not to do that, and so I’d behave, even if I was dying to know more about him.
“Bills don’t stop,” he said, his voice low.
“Even when you’re overseas fighting someone else’s wars.
You come home and the battles are waiting.
Debt. Family. All of it.” He exhaled through his nose.
“Ryder offered me a position at Delta Shield a few years back, and so I didn’t re-up.
Took the job hoping it’d ease the burden of the back-home stuff. ”
“And did it?” I couldn’t help but ask.
He lifted his shoulder, a nonanswer.
“You did it for your parents. To help them despite—”
“Despite hating both of them, yeah.” His throat flexed, but instead of getting mad at me for violating his no-talking-about-his-past rule, he continued, choosing to share more of himself.
“They’ve always needed bailing out. Debt.
Spending money they don’t have. Even before I was paying for my dad’s treatments and his facility this year, they bled me dry. ”
“You really are a hero, aren’t you?” I stepped forward and palmed his cheek. I had to let him know I was there for him, and if I hadn’t been before, well, screw that me. I’m here now.
His eyes snapped to mine like I’d just rocked the boat and triggered the calm peace that’d been happening between us. “I’m not. Just a guy cleaning up after two people who had no business being parents.” The gravel in his voice gutted me.
He caught my wrist, and my thumb grazed his lower lip before he pulled my hand away, returning it to my towel. “Don’t let that fall.”
I obeyed his request. “I’m so sorry.” For what he went through, for asking questions again, for all of it. For not remembering our past, even if it was allegedly a rocky-ish one.
He walked back, his arm returning to his side. He nearly tripped over Ranger, muttering a curse.
“Don’t forget, it took years to make you who you are now,” I said, unable to tame my tongue. It was like trying to roll a boulder up Everest. Impossible. “Your past shaped you, too.” I stepped closer, the towel clinging to me, sweat still dripping down my skin, and I didn’t care.
“Don’t use my words on me. That’s different.”
But is it?
“I can’t do this. I couldn’t on Sunday, and I don’t know why I thought I could do it now.” He shook his head, body visibly tensing. “You don’t know me, not the real me.” He brought a hand to his chest for emphasis. “I’m no saint. No hero. Not special. A nobody.”
His stare tangled with mine, fierce as he demanded I believe what I never would. His words from Sunday hit me hard all over again, right along with my mother’s despicable comment about him.
Oh God, you don’t think you’re good enough for me, do you? Who made you feel this way? I bit my tongue, nearly drawing blood as I refrained from speaking my thoughts out loud this time.
“But you?” he went on. “You’re everything.”
His voice was so stripped down and raw, the pain of his past right between us. I couldn’t remember mine, but I could feel his like it was something tangible I could reach for.
“I’m not that husband, that father, from your dream.
That’s just a fantasy, Hollis.” His breath fanned across my skin as he leaned closer, our noses nearly touching.
“And in the real world? For people like me?” He faked a dark laugh, righting his posture.
“Dreams are only an illusion. Just when you think you can have whatever you want . . . it’s taken from you. ”