‘Yes.’
‘Would you...do you want to sit in here?’ He gestures behind him, to his SUV. I eye it warily and shake my head impulsively.
‘You’re getting wet.’
‘I know.’
He nods, distracted.
A frown draws at my brows but something shifts inside of me—an anger, an impatience, a frustration that maybe he’s here just to chat. ‘Holden, what’s this about? Why are you here?’ It comes out harsher than I intended but crushed hopes and an overflow of emotions make it hard for me to regulate anything.
He looks at me for several seconds without speaking and I feel like I’m tipping off the edge of the earth. I’m so close to snapping; I can’t stand seeing him and not touching, standing opposite him as though we’re barely civil strangers.
‘God, Holden, is this some kind of game to you?’
‘No, Cora, Christ. Just...let me speak, okay?’
But anger is humming through my veins, perhaps because it’s so much more preferable to anything else.
‘Then speak quickly. I don’t want to stand here in the rain all afternoon.’
Nothing.
‘Holden—’ my voice holds a warning ‘—tell me why you’re here or, I swear to you, I will walk away right now.’
‘I came to
see you,’ he blurts out. ‘I came to Australia to see you.’
I stare at him, my mouth dry, my pulse firing.
He speaks quickly, perhaps afraid I’ll make good on my threat and storm off without giving him a moment to say anything else. The rain begins to fall more heavily so he has to shout to be heard, and he steps closer as well so he’s only a few inches from me. ‘The thing is, Cora, you were right that night. I’ve been running away since I found out the truth about my father. I’d been doing everything I could to not feel a damned thing for even longer than that. My whole life I was taught not to feel, not to show emotion, not to let anyone in. Learning that Dad—Ryan—wasn’t my father just underscored the importance of that. I was so messed up, and I had no intention of ever changing.’
I stare at him, my heart slamming into my ribs.
‘Honestly, if I hadn’t met you I don’t think I would ever have woken up. So I came here to thank you.’ Thunder growls beneath his words. ‘I needed you to know that I’ve changed—or I’m working on changing—and that it’s because of you.’
Relief spreads through me, a relaxation of a worry I didn’t even realise I’ve been carrying, but I have no idea what I can say.
‘I’m seeing a shrink.’ His expression isn’t rueful—he’s completely serious, and unapologetic. ‘I guess I needed to talk it out, to get a different perspective, and it’s helping. Just like you said.’ He stares at me, his eyes loaded with ferocious strength. ‘I’m not drinking. I don’t want to drink.’
My stomach squeezes and I close my eyes because, of all things, this I needed to know most. I love Holden Hart and I need to know that he’s not wasting his life, that he’s not destroying himself.
‘I’m working on things with my brothers and I’m working on letting go of the past too. I’m trying to be less messed up.’
There’s nothing but the sound of the hammering rain. I clear my throat and try to decide what to say because I feel as though all of this needs some kind of acknowledgement, but the problem is, I just feel too much—how can I distil it into words?
‘I’m glad.’ Stupid, insufficient acknowledgement is all I offer.
The air crackles. After all that we’ve shared, how can there be this kind of awkwardness and uncertainty?
He frowns. I know he’s feeling it too.
‘Please come and sit in the car.’ He gestures to it, his eyes briefly dropping to my body, so sparks lift within my blood. I repress them, ignoring their familiar pull, because sparks and Holden are inevitable but they don’t solve anything.
‘I’m fine,’ I insist. I’m not fine. I’m a mess, my heart, my head, my body, my brain, all at odds, all unsure and hurting and wanting me to say and do completely different things.
‘You know you asked me about that tattoo?’ He gestures to his chest, where the Greek word is inscribed. I can picture it perfectly, beneath his shirt.