“Wow.”
“Yeah, so now you know.”
“You’re a good man, Colton Callahan.”
“He’s my son. There is no other option but for me to try and be both mom and dad for him, and love him unconditionally.”
“Thank you for telling me. For trusting me with your past.”
“I’m not going to push you, but I want you to know that you can trust me.”
She gives me a weak smile. “It’s late. I should get to bed.” She stands, and downs the rest of her beer, with yet another grimace. “That is truly awful.”
“You didn’t have to finish it.”
“Isn’t that alcohol abuse?” she asks with a hint of mischief in her eyes.
“That it is, Hollis. That it is. Thank you for tonight. For putting up with my crazy family, your help with Milo, and listening.”
“Anytime. Goodnight, Colton.” She stops in the kitchen and tosses her bottle in the trash, then disappears into the laundry room.
I stare after her long after she’s gone. I’m disappointed our night was cut short. I could have spent the entire night talking to her. I don’t want to push her, but I want to know her. It’s more of a need at this point. I want to know what makes her who she is. I spent my entire adult life in the Army. We strive for discipline and patience. Let’s just hope I still have that skill set in me. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t fight it.
Hollis Taylor is quickly becoming my addiction.Chapter 6HollisI keep myself busy, submerging myself in my work throughout the next few days, even though I can hear Colton and Milo move around on the other side of the wall. The rest of his furniture was delivered Monday, and he stayed home that morning to oversee the job. His place is now equipped with a complete living room, kitchen, and bedroom furniture, as well as a few more things for Milo. This place is really starting to look like a home.
Even though we’re two separate homes.
The temperatures are starting to dip, and now I see the disadvantage of moving to the Midwest. Southern California left my skin tanned and thin to the elements, not really prepared for what November in Missouri brings.
First stop today: the strip mall for some warmer clothes.
I hop into my car, noting Colton is already gone for the day. He usually takes off around seven, dropping Milo off at Gabby’s sister’s house before heading to work. I’ve heard a lot about the gym in the last week, especially from Gabby. She talked to her boss, Harrison, who’s married to her sister, Gwen, and he’s agreed to update the website. I sent him a mock-up of a new site yesterday but haven’t heard back yet. The wait is killing me.
The first place I stop is a boutique for women. The lady behind the counter greets me the second I walk through the door, asking if she can be of any assistance. “I’m just looking,” I tell her as I glance around the store.
I’m not really a big fan of shopping. I never have been one of those girls who likes to browse and try on everything and anything. I’m more practical. Come in, get what you need, and get out before the credit card starts to smoke. Fortunately, I don’t need much today. A few sweaters to go with my leggings and jeans, a coat and gloves, and maybe a pair of warmer boots since my ballet flats probably aren’t going to cut it in the Missouri winter.
I head over to a display of sweaters and check the price. They’re a little higher than I’d like to spend, but this is a small, locally owned boutique. I decide I can spend a little extra on a sweater here and find one in a soft blue and gray. The material is thick, promising to keep me toasty this winter, so I find my size and decide to buy it. I glance around a little more, finding all sorts of cute items that would look great paired with skinny jeans or leggings. I promise myself I’ll come back when the budget allows a little more wiggle room for clothing expenses. Right now, I need to stick to the basics until another job or two comes my way.
As I head to the register, I come across a display of gloves and scarves. My eyes immediately fall on a set of black and gray mittens, hat, and scarf. A smile falls on my lips as I think about my grandma and all the times I found her knitting or crocheting. Of course, when I was younger, I didn’t find it cool to wear a handmade hat or scarf, but now? I’d give anything to have something handmade with her love in every stitch.
“Those are made by Estelle Brown. She spends all of her time knitting those items and even infant hats that she donates to the local hospital maternity ward,” the lady states as I gaze at the big display of warmth.