Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Holly
Well, slamming my fingers against the keyboard with increasing force isn’t working, dashing any hope that if I hit these keys hard enough, my computer will get its shit together and cooperate.
For the sixth time in twenty minutes, the WiFi drops, taking my presentation updates with it into the digital abyss.
"What did that Mac ever do to you?" Charlie asks from her perch on my bed, swirling her cocktail. She showed up ten minutes ago with fruity drinks and concern.
I took the drink—shrugged off the concern.
"Nothing yet, but the night is young." I jab viciously at the refresh button. "And this WiFi is personally victimizing me."
The soft glow from the bedside lamp casts shadows across the room, making it feel smaller, more intimate. Like the kind of space where secrets slip free.
Or where you hide from them.
Charlie takes a deliberately casual sip of her drink. "So... rough day?”
I snort. “That’s what we’re calling it?”
“I meant the computer, sorry.”
“Just technical difficulties.” I try for breezy, miss by about eight emotional octaves, and land somewhere between strangled and hysterical.
“And judging from Santa’s precision dropping his sac of computer glitches on me, he has no problems hitting the bowl.”
"Mmmhmm." She studies me over the rim of her glass. "And this… frustration has nothing to do with my brother? Nothing at all.”
“Nope.” There’s that emphasized pop again.
“That’s good, then it definitely has nothing to do with a certain blonde bombshell who crashed?"
"Please." The word is more of a cracked yelp.
A dying seagull.
Helium-like, but solid.
But I totally stuck the landing.
Judges—would totally give my graceless swan dive into life's unflushed toilet an 8.3.
Ahhhhh, a solid foundation of skills I can build on.
"I couldn't care less about GI Joe's blast from the past."
"Right. And I'm sure finding out about his ex-wife had nothing to do with you bailing on dinner tonight."
"I was working." Click, click, click, fucking click, thwacccckkkk.
"MMA style from the looks?"
"Don’t knock my cardio. Maximum calorie burnage and barely breaking a sweat."
Charlie laughs, but it’s not the goddamned guffaw I need.
It’s gentle. Understanding.
Which somehow makes everything hurt even more.
"Holly..."
"Don't." My voice cracks. "Just... don't."
The walls close in, squeezing until every insecurity I've tried to bury comes bubbling to the surface. "How did I not know?"
She sets her glass down with a soft clink. "It's not exactly his favorite topic."
"That's not the point." The frustration building in my chest threatens to choke me. "I've known him my whole life. How did I not know he was married? And divorced?"
"Because you were away at school when it happened. And after... well, it wasn't exactly dinner table conversation. None of us even met her."
“Even Sierra looked like she knew." The bitterness in my voice surprises even me. "But I guess they’re still friends. Secret handshake, probably."
I spit the words out, skidding to a complete stop before adding bootie calls and dickie dunking to the list.
The very picture of restraint.
"Holly..."
"It’s fine." I drain my glass. "Clearly, blondes have more fun. And better WiFi, apparently, because this—" I gesture at my laptop's black screen"—is seriously starting to feel personal."
"That's not?—"
"Charlie, really... I'm used to being the one left behind." I slam my laptop closed harder than necessary. "Story of my life, right? Always too young, too loud, too... much."
"That's not?—"
"Seven years, Charlie. There are seven years between me and Chance. You and Eve sit in the middle, so you get to slide right in with the guys whenever you want.
At best, I get a clear view to watch from the sidelines."
Charlie's quiet for a long moment. "Is that what this is about? Still feeling left out?"
"No. Yes. Maybe." I drag my fingers through my hair, frustrated with my inability to articulate this ache in my chest. "How can I ever expect Dad to take me seriously when I can't even get Chance to stop shoving me back to the kids' table?"
"Holly—"
"And I know it shouldn't matter. I know I shouldn't let it get to me. But..." I swallow hard. "I can't have this in my head during—this week.”
I stop just in the nick of time. I can’t tell her. Not that I don’t trust her—I do.
I love what I do. I’m fucking good at it. I’m not self-conscious, per se. I'm just easily distracted.
My brain drags the smallest observations and details in for rapid-fire processing.
If I tell them, just knowing they’re waiting on the sidelines to see the outcome is a distraction I can’t afford.
The WiFi icon mocks me with another disconnection.
Growling, I jab at the keyboard again.
Charlie pulls out her phone. "That's it. I'm calling Nick."
"What? No?—"
But she's already dialing. "Hey, handsome, I know you’re busy, but Holly’s WiFi is edging her hard…” she winces. “Sorry, not the best choice of words. But yeah, she can't stay connected for more than two minutes… a virgin at a strip club has better stamina…” she nods at whatever he’s saying as though he’s right in front of her. “Uh-huh… Yeah, good idea. Definitely ask him."
My stomach drops. “Who him?”
“The cyber guy, of course.”
"Charlie, don't you dare?—"
She holds up a finger. "Disconnect? Yeah, she’s got that covered.” She tips her phone away from her mouth. “Nick says Chance will be right up. Don't touch anything until he gets here."
"I don't need his help."
"Level with me, Hols." Nick's voice carries through the speaker. "If your hesitation is awkwardness from witnessing the kiss he and I shared earlier, just know it was a one time thing you’ll never have to witness again. It’s not him, it’s me. He assured me it’s not me, it’s him. Just two ships passing in the night." Nick’s full-bodied laugh rumbles through the phone.
Despite myself, my own laugh catches me by surprise. "I hate you."
"No, you don't. Look at it this way—payback for being a prick can start here.”
My heart stutters at the sound of the knock on my door.
"That's my cue. I’ll see you in a few, babe." Charlie ends the call and bounces off the bed with suspicious enthusiasm. "Try not to kill each other."
She throws open the door to reveal Chance filling the frame, laptop tucked under his arm.
The sight of him sends an unwelcome flutter through my stomach.
"Here for the WiFi issues." His voice is carefully neutral.
"Right, just the Wifi issues. Got it." The words slip out before I can stop them.
“I didn’t mean… ” He scrubs his hand down his face. “Nevermind.” His ordinarily mischievous blue eyes are filled with defeat.
The tired kind I’m intimately familiar with that comes from fighting battles you’ve already lost.