Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
Jesse
Hollie hesitated, her eyes dropping to my hand then back to my face. When she didn’t move, I smiled. “It’s up to you.”
Slowly, she slipped her hand into mine and let me lift her from her chair.
I launched us into a slow, swaying two-step, something to get us warmed up.
I was no pro by any stretch, but I could do basic stuff, and she followed my lead like we’d danced together a hundred times.
My left hand curled around her waist, careful not to pull her closer than I needed to.
This was for her, not me.
I’d connected my phone to the bluetooth in the truck, playing country hits from my own playlist. The starting chords of I Remember Everything by Zach Bryan and Kacey Musgraves filled the air and I smiled—a favorite of mine. Perfect for a slow dance.
Hollie’s movements, though accurate, were stiff and her feet kept catching gravel.
“You okay?” I asked.
She paused then shook her head. “I feel embarrassed.”
“Of what?”
“Of letting something as simple as dancing wreck me so much.”
I shook my head. “Dancing didn’t wreck you.”
“Well, I don’t think I’ll ever truly enjoy it again.”
“You didn’t enjoy the last time we danced?”
A smile toyed at her lips, but she pushed it away. “I did enjoy that.”
“Because you weren’t in your head about it.”
“The things Garrett said to me make me never want to dance again.” She whispered the words under her breath, as if she was having a revelation.
“Like what? Keep saying them out loud.”
She huffed, the sound traced with annoyance. “Out loud is your favorite tactic.”
“Because it works.”
She fell quiet, not immediately answering my question.
Pressing a little closer to me, she situated her head near my chin.
And I moved my hand from her hip to the small of her back relishing in her familiar scent and the warmth of her body.
Through the chorus and second verse, we silently danced.
Then she made a sniffling sound. When she looked up at me, her eyes were watery. “He told me…”
My gaze roamed her face, committing every detail of her to memory.
“That it…” Her lips twisted and she squeezed her eyes shut. A tear leaked out, resting on the shelf of her cheek. “It embarrassed him when I got so lost that I closed my eyes.”
My brow knitted as I tried to understand. “While you danced?”
She nodded, sending that lone tear on its journey.
“The first time we met was after my winter showcase when I was a senior in high school. I had a solo and I cried while I performed. He said it was beautiful and passionate, but then later, when I danced at home, he said my emotions made him feel uncomfortable. But I didn’t know how to dance without them…
” She shrugged. “I don’t know why I internalized his embarrassment. But I made it my own.”
Every single thing she said about that guy made me feel like I could drive my fist through a wall.
Any woman deserved better than that, but the idea of Hollie being oppressed by his infantile self-absorption made my head swim with anger.
He couldn’t watch his wife be happy, passionate, or emotional? What a cupcake.
I’d known a lot of good men who considered it their privilege to make their women the best they could be. It was smart too because a woman’s happiness contributes to the health of a relationship and Garrett was a disgusting pig if stealing her simple joys bolstered his life experience somehow.
But maybe the problem for Hollie wasn’t truly the dancing. Maybe it just signified the things he stole: her individuality, her happiness, her freedom of expression, her safety. Dancing likely felt nostalgic, a nod to her true self before Garrett carved her into a shell.
Steadying my voice, I responded, “The other day, I told Cade we are going to struggle with our hurts for the rest of our lives. I think the fear of loss will wane over time, but…it’ll always be a shadow that follows us, you know?” I swallowed, surprised by the sudden emotion in my throat.
She nodded again, squeezing me. I leaned my cheek on her forehead, thankful she wanted to be close to me.
“Those losses and betrayals change the way we take up space in the world. Sometimes, they’ll be the only thing we can see, sometimes they’ll be under our feet.
They’ll never really go away.” I took a shaking breath, thinking about Laurel and the way I would always ache for her. “But we can’t stop living, Hollie.”
She sniffled, burying her head in the crook of my neck and shoulder.
“Our kids need to see us choosing to make something beautiful of life every single day. They’re worth that. And so are you.”
“I know you’re right.” Her tears pressed against my skin.
“If he took dancing from you, take it back. Every chance you get.”
A small cry rose from her throat as she nodded against my shoulder.
The starting piano introduction to Somewhere Over Laredo by Lainey Wilson filled the air and I smiled again, even as a lump formed in my throat.
Maybe comparing my feelings for Laurel to my feelings for Hollie wasn’t right, but I couldn’t stop myself.
Laurel and I had companionship and history that couldn’t be rivaled by a few weeks at Meadowbrook, but I knew care when I felt it. And I knew love.
The realization stole the breath from my lungs, nearly knocked me flat as conflicting feelings declared war in my chest. Would loving Hollie somehow change the way I still loved Laurel?
The part of me still loyal to her wanted to dig in my heels and hold myself back.
But I didn’t know if I could. The current dragged me toward the fall.
I couldn’t say I loved Hollie, no, but love stood on the horizon like an oasis in the desert.
I was well on my way. Almost there.
I took a deep drag of Hollie’ scent then murmured, my voice rasping with a strong cocktail of feelings. “Do you trust me?”
She lifted her face, and I swiped a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “I do.”
“Then close your eyes.”
They fluttered closed and her brow furrowed. Cupping the back of her head, I pulled her into my chest, escalating the tempo of our two-step just a touch to join Lainey’s lyrics about red eye flights and window seats. I held her against my beating heart and clenched my jaw against my own tears.
In something as inconsequential as a dance, we faced our darkness.
She danced while I fell.
On the first strum of the chorus, I lifted my hand, spinning her away, smiling when I saw her eyes were still closed. She followed step by step, back into the cradle of my arms then followed my lead when I rolled her out to the left.
Lainey crooned the familiar words over us, and I let myself feel all the things they brought to the surface of my soul.
The ache, the regret, the threads of hope.
Hollie felt them too, her tears and soft smile the evidence.
On the final chorus, I dipped her. She leaned into it with a level of grace and trust I’d never seen in a dancer before.
I leaned with her, keeping most of our body contact, greedy to let my hands linger on her arched back and waist and unwilling to let her get too far away.
When she came back up, her arms clasped around my neck, and mine settled low on her waist. Her eyes finally opened as our foreheads pressed together.
Man, I wanted to kiss her. My eyes fell to her soft, pink mouth.
Keeping my head when I knew how eager those lips were was no small feat.
But, she had so much to think through. So many decisions to make.
Kissing her again might feel right in the moment, but make her future more complicated than it had to be.
I wouldn’t do that until I was certain she wanted this as much as I did.
A sharp whistling sound pierced the night and a flash as bright as lightning pulled our gazes upward. A loud snap washed the dark sky in brilliant red and gold. Hollie smiled, her eyes brightening. “You were right. This is a great view.”
The end of the song got drowned out by booms that shook the atmosphere.
Clasping her hands, I turned her under my right arm until she spun backwards into my chest, our hands joined over her torso.
Holding her from behind, I watched the fireworks, my body aware of nothing but her—the way her curls tickled my nose, the way she leaned into me, the way she lifted her face to look at mine.
Without meaning to, I snuggled in, tucking my head against hers, my fingers slowly kneading her hands, wrists, and arms.
Tangled, we watched the fireworks until the sky went dark. And I felt, in that moment, the looming dread of loss. She only had eight days left in Texas.
Then I’d lose her too, wouldn’t I?