Chapter Thirty-Two Hollis
Chapter Thirty-Two
Hollis
In the air
The engines droned like angry bees bottled in steel, a sound that didn’t seem to disturb the operators on board.
Nor did the intermittent hiss of hydraulics and fans.
Because when I surveyed the inside of the plane, looking beyond the cargo pallets and gear strapped down with bright-orange webbing, at least three soldiers were passed out.
Even if I didn’t have anything to do, I doubted I’d be able to sleep so easily. I’d been putting off going through Jason’s texts because I knew it was going to hurt. Like a thousand little knife pricks into my flesh as I learned why and how he’d become so closed off, broody, and not people-y.
This was a big deal. Huge. My knees had buckled when he’d offered me his phone in Charleston. The same happened to me when he told me I might be his second chance as well.
I glanced at Jason at the back of the cavernous cargo plane setting up a nylon-mesh hammock-thing. Talk about improvising comfort. He’d offered me a “bed,” but I’d declined, choosing to stay strapped into one of the red troop seats for now.
Jason turned to the side, slipping on a pair of headphones while catching my eyes. “You okay?” he mouthed.
I gave him a hesitant nod, then he forced a smile and climbed onto the hammock. Now or never. I typed in the passcode. My thumb hesitated over his mother’s name before I opened the thread. I flipped back as far as I could go. 2019.
Unrelenting shivers banked my skin as I read the messages. The phone became heavier the longer I scrolled, the weight of his past physically with me. He was giving me his memories, and I had none of my own to give him.
Endless requests for money and promises to change from his mother. She’d even opened credit cards in his name using his identity, and when he would ask her about it, she’d casually apologize. He’d pay off the debt, and she’d do it all over again.
Then there was her drug addiction. He’d beg her to get help. She’d agree, then blow the money he sent for treatment on more drugs. Apologies came, followed by his forgiveness. The same cycle of her taking advantage of him and him helping her anyway.
Rehab finally stuck, only for her to switch vices to alcohol when his father started getting sick. Forgive your father messages came next. He doesn’t remember hurting you. He doesn’t remember hitting you. Forgive him. Help him.
I had to stop and take a break. Pull myself together before I could finish. My heart broke for the abuse he’d suffered. No wonder you didn’t want me risking my neck for your father’s.
After fidgeting with the ridiculous chain I had to wear, I worked my way to their last text exchange. I may not have remembered anyone from my past, but no doubt in my mind he had to be one of the strongest men I’d met in my life.
I forged ahead to his father’s texts next. None had been exchanged in the last year. His texts had been hollow and brief, eventually muddled as his memory declined.
I checked on Jason. His headphones were still on, eyes shut. He had one knee bent, the other leg lazily stretched out with his arm behind his head as a pillow.
You were going through all this with his condition, and now I’m like this.
He’d carried his family like a rucksack full of bricks, and he’d never set it down. Now I truly understood why he didn’t talk about himself.
I went to his photo app next, nervous to go through his Don’t Give Up folder after everything I’d read. That folder had to exist because at one point he had wanted to give up, and he’d found the courage not to and come up with a way to fight through the pain.
The first image was from a newspaper article depicting tornado-ravaged homes from an F5 twister. There was a picture of a boy, maybe Chase’s age, standing in the rubble, the foundation of the home all that remained.
Is that you? I read the names in the article, confirming it was, in fact, Jason. I cupped my mouth, a few tears creating tracks down my cheeks. I tasted their saltiness on my lips, trying to keep it together to continue.
More screenshots of news articles from online from when he lived in Oklahoma, including another tragic F5 tornado event, along with an image of a food shelter, which had me assuming he’d had to eat there at some point.
I thought back to the kitchen when he told me he had to fend for himself when it came to food; he’d literally meant that, hadn’t he?
I wasn’t sure how much more I could take, and this wasn’t my life. My face was hot to the touch and puffy.
When I got to the pictures he’d saved from his service time, I lost it. I ignored the stares from the strangers eyeing me and unbuckled and made a beeline for Jason.
Alex met my eyes, his forehead tight with worry, as I rushed past him and Ryder to get to the man who’d opened himself up to me in his own way.
I stopped by his hammock, and his eyes flashed open when I tried to climb in with him. He shifted his headphones around his neck, setting aside his work phone they were attached to, and helped me up.
Still clutching his phone, I buried my face against his chest, and he sheltered me in his arms. I was grateful the hammock could hold our combined weight.
I knew he wouldn’t want me to say anything. No pity or apologies. But what this man needed was a hug and to never be hurt again. I had every intention of guarding his heart far better than I was supposed to guard sacred secrets and priceless artifacts.
“I got you,” he said into my ear, and the fact he was reassuring me when it should have been the other way around broke me.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed as we remained like this, but his heartbeat in my ear while being in his strong arms helped calm me down.
I tipped my chin up, peering at him. I had applied a little makeup before the flight, but I assumed since my eyes weren’t burning, my products were top tier and I wasn’t a total disaster. “What were you listening to?”
“My DGU playlist.”
I definitely wanted to listen to that at some point. I rolled my lips inward, fighting another ugly cry, when an idea suddenly hit me.
I attempted to sit upright, nearly flipping the hammock, but we both had fast reflexes and managed to save ourselves from falling.
Once we were stable, I unlocked his phone and held it out. “Act like you like me for a second,” I teased, sniffling.
Instead of focusing on the camera, he looked at me, a slow smile spreading across his lips, and I took the photo.
“There we go. RTBH. A new folder.” I moved photos into it. Pictures from Alex’s wedding, Ryder’s as well, and several images of Ranger. Lastly, I saved the selfie I took of us there.
“RTBH?” He took the phone from me and began swiping through the saved images.
“Reasons to be happy.” I rested my hand on his chest and angled my head, hoping he’d slant his mouth over mine for a quick kiss despite where we were.
He bent his head forward and kissed me. Zero hesitation.
“Not to be presumptuous,” I whispered in post-kiss bliss, a little lightheaded from the calming effect he had on me, “but I’m hoping I can be less of a pain in your ass and someone who makes you happy instead, someone who belongs in this new folder.”
His lips stretched into a wicked grin that woke up other parts of me, moving me from sad to something else entirely.
He discreetly pinched my butt. “You can be both. Make me happy and be a pain in my ass.” With his free hand, he held my cheek, directing my face close to his again, on the verge of another kiss. “Because you know damn well it turns me on when you give me a hard time.”