Page 32 of Going All In

The smile gets bigger, then disappears. “I did, actually. And he was really cute at first. He likes SVU and shows like that, too. I thought it was something we had in common.”

I wait.

“He was all sweet, but then later in the evening, he was kind of… distant, I guess. Like he was trying to be nice but not encourage another date or something.” She lets out a sigh.

I study her expression. She looks frustrated, sure, but it’s not the look I’d expect if she were really into someone and it didn’t pan out.

That look I’m familiar with. I’ve been seeing it every day in the bathroom mirror.

“Holly… did you actually like this guy?” There were two people doing the kissing last night. She didn’t kiss me like a woman who was falling for someone else.

She chews on her lip and wrinkles her forehead. “He was a good prospect. I have to bring someone to the wedding who won’t—”

She breaks off and looks away.

What’s she so scared of? There’s more here. This isn’t just about Justin or even about me, is it?

Holly leans her head back on the headrest and closes her eyes. “Maybe I’m reading too much into it. Maybe he was just tired or something and I’m overthinking it.”

“You? Overthink something? Never,” I deadpan.

She smiles, her eyes still closed, and I let it go for now.

* * *

My mother’s car is waiting outside the Ardmore train station when we descend the stairs from the platform. But instead of my mother, a ball of energy jumps out of the driver’s seat and hurls herself at us.

“Maddox! Holly! It’s so good to see you!”

Holly’s eyes go wide as Addie wraps her in a hug. “Um. Hi, Addison. Happy Thanksgiving.”

Addie beams at her and turns to me, offering a quick hug. She looks at Cam, who is hiding behind me and Holly.

“Hi, Addison,” he says, making no move to hug her.

I may have once told him something like that if he touched my baby sister, I’d cut his dick off. Cam’s a good guy, but Addie’s my little sister. Plus, the first time they met, Addie was like thirteen or fourteen. She was way off limits back then, and even though she’s twenty-seven now, I don’t see any reason to encourage the two of them.

She ignores the slight and pulls Holly toward the car. Cam and I follow a few steps behind. The ten-minute drive from the station to my mom’s house is filled with chatter, mostly from my sister. After a couple of minutes, Holly warms up a bit and is more like herself, or at least the version of herself I know.

It strikes me that I only know part of her. It makes me want to spend every minute with her, see all the different versions. We all have different selves for different situations—friends, family, work—and I want to love all of hers.

“So, did you two get to know each other a little on the ride over? It’s nice that you were able to coordinate your trains,” Addie says to Holly, who is sitting next to her in the front passenger seat.

“Uh… yeah, we got to talk a little,” Holly manages.

I kick Cam before he can open his big mouth. He of course knows the whole story, right down to the bet I made Holly. He also knows better than to spill this, but he’s got a long history of putting his foot in his mouth.

Addie has moved on to a long soliloquy about the types of food Mom made, and the desserts, and how Mom and Josie got in a big fight last night because Josie wanted to make the pies and Mom was offended because she thought Josie didn’t like her pies, but Josie just wanted to help. I’m not sure Addie takes a breath through all of it.

By the time she pauses enough to let someone else speak, as well as presumably to take that breath so she doesn’t pass out while driving, we’re pulling into the driveway of my mom’s house.

The white colonial is where I grew up, for as far back as I can remember anyway, and it’s still exactly the way it was twenty-five years ago, right down to the tulips that line the front path during the spring and summer. Right now, there’s just the remnants of the garden, the dirt buried solid under a dusting of snow.

Addie parks the car in the driveway, perilously close to Josie’s Highlander. She squeezes out the driver’s side door and waits. Holly steps gracefully out of the car, the bottle of wine she brought in her hand. Both of them watch as Cam and I spill out of the passenger side of the back row like two overgrown toddlers.

I knock on the door frame as I push open the front door. “Hello? Mom? Josie? We’re here.”

A chorus of voices comes from the direction of the kitchen. I pivot that way, motioning with my head for Holly to join me. She and Cam both follow me until Holly spies her dad sitting in the family room and hurries off to talk with him.

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