“Jamie? You there?” Dean says, and I come up for air, forcing Holden to move his kisses to my neck, biting, licking.
“Spread ’em,” Holden murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. I do as he asks, my arms around his neck as he slips a hand down the front of my shorts.
“Jamie!” Dean calls again, and Holden stops. Every muscle in his body tenses for just a moment before he releases me completely, putting an end to our madness. He takes a step back, shoving a hand down his shorts to adjust himself, and before I can even register what the fuck is happening, the front door bursts open.
“Hey, Jamie!” Brianna sings, sauntering toward us in nothing but a sports bra and tight shorts.
My mouth parts, but any words I have die in my chest. I grab my phone, hang up on Dean while Holden opens the oven and drags out the tray. He places it carefully on the counter, saying, “Perfect timing.”
Brianna’s on the opposite side of the counter now, and she leans over, inspects the food. “Is that the vegan lasagna recipe I gave you?”
“Sure is,” Holden answers, and even though I’m blinded by betrayal, I still manage to see them lean across the counter and kiss.
“You’re so sweet,” Brianna says, and I almost laugh at the thought. Holden? Sweet? My chest tightens at the realization that she’s right. Holden is sweet. When he loves you, when he adores you and wants to please you, Holden can be the single man to hang the moon.
“Are you joining us for lunch?” Brianna asks me, and I turn away, hoping they don’t notice my effort to blink back the tears, fight back the heartache.
“No…” I all but whisper. I clear the ache in my chest. “I was—”
Apparently, Holden speaks for me now. “Jamie helped set up a picnic outside.”
“Awe, thank you.” Sweet, naïve Brianna.
And stupid, pitiful me.
“Well, I was just leaving.” I don’t even wait for a response. Instead, I rush to the door and leave, passing the picnic setup as I go.
Tears well in my eyes, and a sob lodges in my throat, because how could I be so fucking pathetic?
“Jamie!” Holden calls after me, and I can hear his footsteps close. Too close.
“Fuck off!”
“Jamie!” He grabs my arm, spinning me to him. Whatever he sees on my face has his falling. His gaze shifts from me to his house, over and over. Slowly, carefully, he moves me behind an enormous tree trunk, hiding me from his girlfriend. From the world. “It was just a joke…” he says, his eyes searching mine.
“You kissed and touched me like that, as a joke?” I say, teeth gritted.
Holden doesn’t respond, just continues to watch me.
“Well, congratulations,” I murmur, shrugging out of his touch. “Because you sure made me feel like one.”
He shrugs. “Sorry,” he says, but it’s clear as day…
He’s not sorry.
Not even a little bit.
17
Holden
The first thing I stopped remembering about Jamie was her laugh, and hearing it now—it’s like a sudden piercing pain through my chest.
To be honest, after the shit I pulled yesterday, I wasn’t sure if I’d hear that laugh again. It was a dickhead thing to do, but I apologized, she didn’t accept, and that was that. I wasn’t going to grovel for her forgiveness, especially considering she never once asked for mine.
Her laughter comes in waves, I remember now, quiet at first, and then everything unleashes. I remember watching her once, remarking how much her laugh suited her smile—suited her. It was hard to get out of her the few weeks after the attack, but slowly, surely, I brought it back. A little for her, but mainly for me. I needed to know that what happened to us wasn’t going to break her, and I would’ve done absolutely anything to make sure of it.
I stop my work in the greenhouse so that I can hear it again. “It’s so much harder than it looks,” Jamie laughs out.
A male responds, but it’s not who I initially assumed she was talking to. “Yeah, you’re sure making it look harder than it is.” I instantly recognize the voice as Colton’s, my friend, and remove my gloves, throw them on the bench, and make my way out. I have no idea why he’s here, but him—around any girl—is a problem. I still cringe whenever I think about that one time he laid a hand on Mia’s leg, and her now-husband, Leo, almost choked him to death.
Colton’s a couple of years older, and we’ve always gotten along because we like to party the same way. The two of us—back in the day—are who the moms around here warned their daughters against. The difference between us? I’m always respectful. Colton has a habit of teetering on the edge. And fuck if I’ll let him do it with Jamie.
They come into view the moment I step out of the old barn. Across the driveway in the parking lot, Jamie’s in denim shorts and a loose black t-shirt that hangs over one side, revealing her bare shoulder and hot-pink bra strap. And then I take note of the rest of her:
helmet
elbow pads
knee pads
rollerblades.
Goddamn, she’s cute. And it pisses me way the fuck off.
She’s taking baby steps, no actual rolling to be seen, her arms out to attempt some form of balance.
Too late, I notice what Colton is doing, and my blood simmers, my anger brewing, raging just beneath my flesh.
He’s touching her.
He has his hand curled around her waist while the other holds her forearm steady. “You got this,” he encourages.
I’m moving before I can stop myself, yelling, “What the fuck are you doing?” I’m not sure who those words are directed toward, but it doesn’t seem to matter because they both stop in their tracks and look up at me. Colton looks confused while Jamie’s eyes are wide—deer meet headlights—as if I’ve caught her doing something she shouldn’t be. Was she flirting with this motherfucker, right here, in my home?
The fucking audacity.
“I was just trying something…” she says, her voice low, eyes refusing to meet mine.
“Bro, what’s your problem?” Colton says through a chuckle.
“My problem?” He’s still holding on to her, and she’s not stopping him. I should rip off his hands and beat him with them. One hand for touching her at the diner, and the other for this. Because he’s not worthy of the touch, no one is. No one but—
I stop my thoughts there… stop them from pulling me down, dragging me under. Jealousy is a dangerous emotion, and it’s one I hadn’t felt in years. Not until I saw Jamie again.
“My problem?” I ask, trying to keep my shit together. “My problem is that you look ridiculous, Jamie.”
The look on her face…
I wonder if I looked the same when Dean walked into that room.
“And this is a place of business. It’s not exactly professional having you looking like an eight-year-old flailing around on rollerblades. What if a supplier came in? Or a client?”
“Bro, it’s really not that big a deal,” Colton chimes in. As if he has a say. Fuck him.
“No, he’s right,” Jamie says. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”