Chapter 9 Holt #2
For a suspended moment, they were frozen in an awkward yet intimate dance, June's body pressed against his chest as his hands instinctively supported her weight and steadied the plates.
The bit of appetizers balanced precariously between them, creating an absurd tableau that might have been purely comedic under different circumstances.
But there was nothing humorous about the way June felt in his arms, or the way her face had tilted up toward his in surprise, or the sudden electric awareness that seemed to crackle in the air between them like a live wire.
Their eyes met and held, and Holt felt the rest of the world fade into complete irrelevance.
This was the woman he'd fallen in love with when they were both young enough to believe that love could overcome any obstacle.
The woman he'd married in a small, intimate ceremony many years ago, surrounded by family and friends who had been certain they were meant to spend their lives together.
June's lips were slightly parted, her breathing quick and shallow, and Holt found himself leaning incrementally closer without making any conscious decision to do so.
The plates balanced between them seemed like an insignificant barrier compared to the years, the hurt, and the fundamental misunderstandings that had kept them apart.
"Mom, I think the—" Willa's voice cut through the charged moment like a blade as she stepped back into the kitchen to retrieve something.
June and Holt sprang apart with such startled speed that the plates nearly went flying in their haste to put an appropriate distance between them.
"Watch out," June said breathlessly, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal as she gestured toward the floor tiles. "There's something wet on that section of the floor."
"Oh," Willa said. “It was probably Blaze dripping water from his mouth like he does after he is finished drinking.”
“I’ll get that cleaned up for you,” Holt offered, needing to do something with his hands that still tingled from holding June. “We don’t want anyone slipping on it.”
"If you don’t mind,” Willa said, her eyes filling with gratitude. “There’s a mop in the utility closet next to the pantry."
"You really don't have to," June started to object. “You’re a guest, and I’ve already put you to work cutting vegetables. I can do it.”
"It's absolutely not a problem," Holt assured her, grateful for any task that would give him something constructive to do with his hands besides think about how perfectly right June had felt in his arms.
As he retrieved the mop and began systematically cleaning the wet area on the floor, Holt found his mind wandering into genuinely dangerous territory.
He couldn't help imagining what their life together might have looked like if circumstances had been different.
If he and June had stayed married, if they'd had children together, if Willa and Rad were their children.
This kind of evening would probably be routine in that alternate timeline.
Relaxed family barbecues where he and June worked seamlessly as a team to host their extended family and friends, where their adult children naturally sought advice and assistance from both parents, where the comfortable rhythms of shared responsibility were as natural and automatic as breathing.
The thought was at once appealing and deeply painful, offering a glimpse of the parallel life he'd abandoned when he chose career advancement over the hard work of maintaining marriage.
"Mom, can you help me grab some more snacks from the pantry?" Willa asked June. "We're running low out there, and there are six hungry teens that are drooling over the uncooked barbecue meat.”
“I’ll go get the rest of the dishes, and we can top up the snacks,” June told her and left the kitchen.
Once Holt was done with the floor and put away the mop. He washed his hands and walked toward Willa.
“I can help you with the snacks.”
"You really don't have to work during what's supposed to be a relaxing social evening," Willa said with obvious embarrassment as she began pulling various bags and containers from the neatly arranged shelves.
"This is supposed to be fun for you, not an opportunity for me to put you to work in my kitchen like some kind of unpaid caterer. "
"Nonsense," Holt replied firmly, taking several items from her hands to help carry the load. "Your mother and I go way back, so you're practically family as far as I'm concerned. I'm genuinely happy to help with whatever needs doing."
Willa's expression shifted to unmistakable curiosity as she reached for a large bag of chips on one of the higher shelves. "How do you know my—"
"Willa!" Mina's voice called from the kitchen door with the kind of authoritative tone that suggested she had appointed herself the unofficial overseer of the evening's hosting duties. "Where are the dinner rolls? And we're running quite low on chips out here!"
Willa sighed deeply and rolled her eyes in the universal gesture of adult children dealing with well-meaning but demanding matriarchs who had taken charge of situations.
"Coming!" Willa called back toward the patio, then smiled apologetically at Holt.
"Thank you so much for all your help. I really, truly appreciate it. "
She hurried out of the kitchen with an armload of snacks and supplies, leaving Holt standing alone near the pantry with her unfinished question echoing persistently in his mind.
The realization hit him with completely unexpected emotional force: June had systematically erased him from the story of her life after their divorce.
Not just romantically, which would have been entirely understandable and appropriate, but completely and thoroughly.
She'd never told Willa about her first marriage, never even mentioned that she'd been married to someone else before Trevor.
It was as if all those intense years they'd spent together, the dreams they'd shared and built and lost, the profound love that had once defined both of their lives, had simply never existed in the version of her personal history that she'd shared with her daughter.
The knowledge stung far more than Holt had expected it would.
He'd understood intellectually that June had moved on after their divorce, that she'd built a successful and fulfilling life without him.
But somehow he hadn't fully grasped that she'd accomplished this by completely removing all traces of his existence from her personal narrative.
Almost immediately, his own guilt crashed over him with equal emotional intensity.
He'd done essentially the same thing, hadn't he?
Rad knew that his father had been married before Lillian, but they'd never discussed the details in any meaningful way. Holt strongly doubted that his son even knew it had been June he’d been married to.
They'd both independently chosen to protect their children from the potential complications of their shared romantic past, but in doing so, they'd created a situation where Willa and Rad, two young adults who somehow fate had thrown together to be working closely together in professional capacities, had absolutely no idea that their parents had once been married to each other.
Holt covered the completed salad with plastic wrap and placed it carefully in the refrigerator, smiling despite his complicated emotions when he noticed how meticulously organized the interior space was.
Either Willa had inherited June's everything-must-have-its-proper-place habits, or June had been systematically reorganizing her daughter's kitchen during her recovery stay.
Knowing June's personality as well as he did, it was probably both factors working together.
As he closed the refrigerator door with a soft click, Holt found himself thinking that maybe it was finally time to have a completely honest conversation with both Willa and Rad about his and June's shared history.
They were adults, after all, and they'd be working together in various professional capacities as the investigation continued.
It would be significantly better for them to hear the truth directly from their parents than to discover it accidentally through old photographs or town gossip.
The thought of actually having that conversation made him genuinely nervous, but it also felt like the right thing to do from an ethical standpoint.
Secrets had a persistent way of surfacing at the most inconvenient and potentially damaging moments, usually in the most hurtful ways possible.
Holt also knew that it might be time he told June another secret he’d been carrying for many years that had haunted him and plagued him with guilt.
Holt made his way back toward the patio, planning to find June and suggest they discuss telling their children about their shared past sooner rather than later.
But as he passed through the comfortable living room, he caught sight of the deck through the sliding glass doors that led to the outdoor entertaining area.
June and Dean stood together at the far end of the deck, engaged in what appeared to be an intense, deeply private conversation.
As Holt watched with growing discomfort, they walked down the wooden steps together and headed toward the beach, their heads bent toward each other in the intimate posture of people sharing intimate thoughts.
Something sharp and entirely unwelcome twisted painfully in Holt's chest. Jealousy, he recognized with uncomfortable clarity and more than a little self-directed irritation.
He had absolutely no right whatsoever to feel jealous about who June chose to spend her time with, no legitimate claim on her attention or affection after all these years of separation.
But watching her walk away with Dean brought back all the old insecurity and possessiveness that he'd thought he'd successfully outgrown decades ago.
He forced himself to take a deep, steadying breath and deliberately look away from the beach.
It was none of his business who June spoke to or went for a romantic walk on the beach with.
She was a free woman who could spend her time however she chose, and he had no standing whatsoever to object to her friendships or personal relationships.
"Holt!" Noah's voice called from near the barbecue setup, effectively snapping him out of his unproductive brooding. "Come join us over here. Lucy has some really interesting ideas about promoting Sandpiper Shores, I think we can all get behind.”
Grateful for the distraction from his increasingly complicated personal feelings, Holt made his way over to where Noah, Tom, Rad, Lucy, and his mother had gathered in a loose conversational circle, drinks in hand and expressions animated by the kind of genuine civic enthusiasm that made small communities function effectively.
A trickle of laughter caught his attention, and he turned his head to see Ace and Willa at the barbecue, arguing playfully about how Ace was cooking.
Again, that overprotective fatherly type instinct nearly overwhelmed him.
He had to physically force himself not to march over there and demand to know what Ace’s intentions toward Willa were.
Holt remembered seeing Ace out with Tom’s daughter, Sienna, the other night, so he put his protectiveness down to that.
Ace was clearly trying to charm Willa while dating Sienna.
Holt would try to protect anyone from that pain and humiliation.
"We were just discussing various strategies for attracting more business investment and younger families to the area," Lucy explained, pulling Holt out of his thoughts and drawing his attention back to the group he’d joined.
"The town has so much natural beauty and authentic character to offer, but we need to find creative ways to market our advantages without compromising the essential qualities that make this place special in the first place. "
"It really is a delicate balancing act," Tom agreed. "We want sustainable growth that enhances what we've built here, but not rapid development that overwhelms our infrastructure or fundamentally changes the character of the community."
"Tourism could definitely be part of the long-term answer," Mina suggested, her years of local business experience informing her perspective.
"But we'd need to be very selective about the kind of tourism we actively encourage.
Family-friendly, environmentally conscious visitors who respect and appreciate what we've worked to preserve here. "
For the next ten minutes, Holt found himself genuinely engaged in the discussion, his mind occupied by practical concerns about economic development strategies, infrastructure improvements, and comprehensive community planning.
It was a welcome distraction from more personal preoccupations, and he genuinely appreciated the way the conversation revealed different facets of the people he was gradually getting to know better in his hometown.
The animated discussion was suddenly interrupted when his phone began buzzing insistently in his pocket. Holt pulled it out and saw June's name flash on the screen, and his heart immediately lurched while a strange sense of concern and a growing dread gripped him.
Holt stepped away from the conversational group, pressing the answer button as an inexplicable but powerful sense of impending crisis settled heavily in his stomach.
"June?" he said, his voice automatically sharp with worry. "Is everything okay?"
"Holt, thank goodness you answered," June's voice came through the phone connection, tight with unmistakable anxiety and barely controlled fear.
"I've been trying to call everyone, but no one's answering their phones.
Please get Carmen, Willa, Tom, Ace, and Lucy together.
You all need to get into town right now. "
"June, slow down and tell me what's happening," Holt said, alarm shooting through his entire system as he registered the genuine panic in her voice. "Where are you? What's wrong?"
"We’re at the veterinary clinic, we came here to check on Margo and Lacey…” June's voice cracked slightly with emotion. "The clinic… it’s… it’s on fire.” A trembling pause. “The fire department is here fighting it, but they're having serious trouble getting inside the building.”
“Okay…” Holt breathed. “I’ll round everyone up.”
“Holt, hurry,” June’s voice dropped and was filled with fear. “We think Lacey and Margo are trapped inside."