Chapter Twenty-Seven Hollis
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hollis
I bent my legs up underneath me, trying to get comfortable alongside Ranger on the living room couch, preparing myself for a deep dive into our texting past.
Ranger set his head on my thigh, his curious eyes pointed at me like I was doing something wrong.
“He gave me permission. Not violating your daddy’s privacy, promise.”
I was desperate to ask him what he meant by the November date being his reset point, but I knew better than to press my luck and push him to open up.
“Work or personal phone first?” I peeked at Ranger, and he bopped the work phone with his nose. “Okay, then.”
I opened Reed’s texts and had to scroll through several other names to get to mine. A group text with Ryder, Alex, and others was at the top. That thread probably had to do with me, but I wasn’t going to abuse the trust he gave me and read anything other than our messages.
I spotted my name and opened our exchange. No image of me for the profile, which made sense. Why would he want to look at my face when we swapped texts?
I swiped back as far as it’d allow, landing in late February of this year.
I read over the messages, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why I drove the man nuts.
I was not easy to deal with, that was clear.
My way or the highway when it came to a mission involving Audrey, and my God, what the heck .
. . Based on what I could gather from the texts about the operation, my best friend had been through a lot.
I stopped on a string of texts while we were in New Zealand undercover as a couple.
Me: Your suit is on the bed. I didn’t trust you to shop for yourself, so I picked something out for you.
Reed: I can dress myself, thanks.
Reed: And why were you in my room while I was in the shower? You could have walked in on me.
Me: Should’ve locked the door.
Reed: I did.
Me: Locked it . . . better?
Reed: Why Audrey likes you, beats the hell out of me.
Me: Same goes for why anyone puts up with you, Mr. Grump.
Reed: That’s . . . fair.
I smirked at our back-and-forth, reading between the lines, pretty sure we were flirting, not hating on one another.
There were a few more texts after that relating to the mission, but that was it.
I switched to his personal phone, my stomach aching at the first name at the top in his messages: Mom.
When I opened our exchange, I was surprised to see there was a profile picture of me in this one. I was outdoors, crouched alongside Ranger and smiling.
Interesting.
I swiped all the way back to our very first message and began there.
Me: It’s me. Figured I’d text on your personal line when it’s not op related.
Reed: Who is this?
Me: Your favorite person. Give you three guesses, but you’ll only need one: a sexy brunette who kicks ass for a living, drives you nuts just by breathing, and is a sucker for banana bread.
Reed clearly programmed my number at some point after that, since it didn’t say Unknown with my picture.
Reed: Did Audrey give you my number?
Me: Do you really think it was hard for me to find an unlisted number myself?
Reed: Why are you even texting me?
Me: It’s 0300 where I’m at, and I can’t sleep. Bored.
Reed: And you thought . . . let me bother Reed?
Reed: Where are you anyway that it’s so late?
Me: Russia.
Reed: Why?
Me: Classified
Reed: Bother someone else, will ya? Or you know, sleep.
Me: Well, you have my # if you ever want to chat.
Reed: The idea of talking to you because I want to has never, and will never, cross my mind.
And yet, a few days later, he reached out.
Reed: Just checking to make sure you’re home and didn’t die. Audrey would hate that.
I didn’t respond, so he’d texted the following afternoon.
Reed: You good?
It was as if I were eavesdropping on someone else’s life. Reading their story, not mine. I was relieved to see I finally answered him four hours later and hadn’t died (as if I wasn’t sitting right here, very much alive).
Me: Sorry, things went sideways. Let me tell you, Russian prisons . . . 0/10 don’t recommend. All good now. My dad made a call and a deal.
Reed: WTH
Me: Sweet you cared. Also, just pointing out the fact you texted first.
He didn’t respond back to that, but now I was hung up on the fact I’d been in a prison and my father had to negotiate for my release.
We didn’t text again for a few weeks, and it went about the same as before. Next three exchanges after that, too. I poked, he jabbed back.
The next back-and-forth, though . . .
Me: Thought you’d want to know I got back that artifact we had to auction off in NZ. Had to deal with lions, tigers, and bears to get to it.
Reed: You’re joking.
Me: The correct response to what I said is: “oh my.” Haven’t you seen The Wizard of Oz?
Reed: Nope. Why would I have?
Reed: So, the artifact was at a zoo, is that what you’re trying to tell me in your typical weird way?
Me: More like at the home of a rich asshole who collects wildlife.
Got what I went there for and set all the animals free.
Annnnd without getting mauled. Believe it or not, that scar above my brow was when a lion cub almost had me for dinner two years ago.
Gideon tranquilized him before he could eat me. Just a scratch.
It was hard to believe I was truly this person I was reading about. I took a few more seconds to digest that—decided I couldn’t—and moved on, back to our messages.
Reed: I don’t know if you’re being serious, but if you are, you’re stressing me out.
Me: Thought you don’t care about me, why would I stress you out?
Reed: Because Audrey’s your best friend. Told you before, if you die, she’d be upset.
Me: Ah, yes. Makes sense. Well, I don’t care about you either.
Reed: Good, great, please don’t.
Me: You’re extra grumpy tonight. What’s wrong?
Reed: It’s 0200, and I just got back from operating. I’m tired AF, and you’re texting me about wrestling wild animals.
Me: You didn’t have to answer.
Reed: I’ll remember to do that next time. Well, I’m glad an animal didn’t eat you. Now go to bed.
Me: Yes, sir.
Reed: I hate you.
Me:
A text popped up from his mother, interrupting my reading. I quickly discarded the notification so I wouldn’t see what she’d texted. Not my business.
I was a little sad to discover I was near the end of our exchanges, though. I wanted to read more. Also, I needed a happily-ever-after; their story—shit, our story—couldn’t just be left hanging.
Reed: You staying out of trouble?
Me: Just can’t help but check on me, huh?
The time stamp was from about two weeks ago. When he didn’t acknowledge my response, I sent a follow-up.
Me: In France with my brother working on something.
What had I been working on? And didn’t Lyra say Gideon had checked my place in France and it’d been found tossed?
Me: I’m going to swing by Audrey’s later this month to say hi. Will you be around?
Reed: I’ll plan not to be.
Me: Sure, sure. You wouldn’t miss seeing me.
Reed: Haven’t had a good eye roll in a few days, you’re right.
That would have been the weekend before last, not too long before I went to Italy, right?
Me: See you then. x
Reed: That x supposed to represent a kiss?
Me: Don’t you wish?
Me: Why wait until I come when you can roll your eyes now?
Reed: How kind of you.
We had one final brief exchange Wednesday morning of last week.
Me: I heard you’re in Panama for an op. Be safe.
Reed: I planned to do the opposite actually.
Me: Smart-ass.
Reed: Only for you.
I had to have been in Italy when I sent that text, and then . . . I was taken and woke up like this. No wonder I never checked to ensure he made it home safe from his operation—I’d been MIA by then.
I took a moment to process everything I’d read, my skin flush and warm, goose bumps peppering my arms.
Reed had said our texts would make me understand why we’d never work, but that was not what I got from our messages at all.
I gently patted Ranger, letting him know it was time to get up and confront his daddy. Standing, I held both phones and slowly made my way to the gym, my heartbeat quickening every step of the way.
Outside the door, I shifted the phones to one hand so I could open it, then looked at Ranger. He tilted his head, ears up, staring at me as he was waiting for me to turn the knob.
“Need alone time,” I told him, gesturing to the hall with my head, hoping the smart dog would understand. He yelped, but he turned and took off.
I took a calming breath, then opened up.
Reed’s back was to me, and he had multiple firearms spread out on the table in front of him.
“Your mother texted.”
His back muscles flexed, drawing the material of his tee together. “And?”
“I didn’t read it, just thought you should know.” I finally got my butt moving, and I set his phones on the table near a Glock.
He picked up his personal one, quickly checked the text, then returned it to the table. “Are you done reading our messages?” He slowly turned, drawing his arms across his chest like a guard, probably because I was also violating rule one by being in his personal space.
I visually tracked the vein in one of his corded forearms. “I am.”
His throat muscles moved with a deep swallow as our eyes connected. “Now you understand?”
“That I have a death wish?” I half smiled. “The woman I was in those texts would most definitely sneak off to Rome and risk her neck if the cause was worthy. That much I know.”
Worry lines bracketed his mouth. “And what did you conclude when it came to you and me?”
That there’s supposed to be an us. I kept that to myself, stepped over his rule, and held his hard biceps.
He studied my hand as I lightly squeezed his arm. “What are you doing?”
“Touching you.” Nervous, I walked my hands up to his shoulders, then to the sides of his neck. I wanted his hand on me like it had been on Sunday. Cupping my jaw, ass, throat. Taking command of any and every part of me. Just as long as his hands were on me, that was all that mattered.
“I’m well aware.” His voice deepened. “But why?”
I hit him with another small smile of surrender. “Those messages read like a love story. It’s only missing the ending where the two people confess their feelings.”
“What?” His arms relaxed to his sides as his eyes narrowed in disbelief. “No, that’s not—”
I brought a finger to his lips, silencing him, and he scrunched his face but obeyed.
“I just want to wake up. I want to remember the woman I was when I sent those texts.” My voice cracked as I brought my hand over the sexy scruff along his chiseled jawline.
“And what else do you want? What can I do to help you in the meantime?” The sexy, gritty sound of his voice slid under my skin, sending a shiver up my back.
“You can’t wake me up with a kiss . . . but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love you to go ahead and try.”
He shut his eyes, and I thought he might retreat. Tell me to go fly a kite. Leave him alone and follow his rules.
Instead, he slowly turned his face into my hand, then flicked his tongue against my skin before sliding his lips across my palm in a kiss, lighting me up inside.
“Hollis,” he hissed as if saying my name pained him. “Please don’t ask me to set my mouth on yours.”
“Why not?” I asked in a shaky voice.
His nostrils flared, and his eyes flashed open.
“Because I’m going to snap the second your mouth touches mine,” he nearly growled before brushing his lips over my palm again.
“You saw what happened in the kitchen. You know what would’ve gone down had you thrown another pillow at me in your bed. You know I can’t . . .”
“Can’t what?” I needed to hear the words. That dream may have been implanted in my head, but it didn’t change the fact we did have chemistry now and before. My feelings were real. Soul—not skin—deep. “Reed?”
“Jason . . .” he said on a sigh. “You can call me that if you want to. Only for you.”
Only for you. That’d been his last text to me before I disappeared, and here we were, and he was giving a piece of himself to me.
“Jason,” I said around the knot of pressure pushing into my throat from my chest.
He leaned in, resting his forehead to mine. His guard was slipping. Willpower waning. “Yes?” he responded, voice ragged.
“Go ahead,” I whispered, “and snap.”