I glance at Holden out of the corner of my eye. He’s currently dealing with an overexcited Stormy, giving her the attention she wants and being patient while she keeps jumping on him. Dogs are a lot like children, aren’t they?
Another forbidden image enters my mind. This time, Holden has a baby carrier strapped to his massive chest, holding handswith a toddler on one side and throwing a ball for Stormy on the other.
I let out a whimper and cover it with a cough.
No more of that.
Why am I thinking about him at all?
Maybe because he’s been nothing but kind to you since Luke’s accident. Taking care of you when needed and always being honest with you. Is he trying to make up for his wrongdoings, even if he still hasn’t explained himself?
He owes me an explanation.
What if there’s a really good reason he left you back then?
Is that what I’m hoping for?
The resounding warm glow in my chest confirms my suspicion.
But what if there isn’t a good reason?
There is only one way to find out. You also still need to ask him how he knows about Felix’s death.
I still wonder if I should feel bad about that news, but there’s only relief. And maybe some satisfaction because that guy had it coming.
My brain jumps to the next topic on my to-do list as if in problem-solving mode. That fucking email to Ian. I already sent Wanda an SOS message, explaining I have no idea how that song made it into Ian’s inbox, but I haven’t heard back from her. But if the bosses have already signed off on it, my chances of getting out of it are probably slim to none.
“What do you think?”
Holden’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I gaze at him for only a second because Stormy draws away my attention, zooming around the backyard like she’s been held in captivity her whole life, and now she’s finally free.
I snort.
She loops around the pool and checks out the stone path leading to the small cottage off to one side, examining every tree and bush she encounters before running past us to sniff around the outdoor kitchen built under a wooden pergola. It’s perfect for entertaining and enjoying the open air, with a built-in grill, a pizza oven, and a refrigerator, all made of what appears to be stainless steel.
This could have jumped straight out of a home magazine. Beautiful.
I swallow. “Stormy loves it.”
“I’m glad.” Holden pauses, and I feel his stare burning into the side of my head. “But I wasn’t asking about her.”
“No, you weren’t.” This isn’t a big deal. This isn’t about anything super important or meaningful.
So why does it feel like I’m standing on the precipice of something huge, as if Holden just asked me if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him?
I’m silly because what a ridiculous thought.
Too much is happening too fast, and my mind is spinning out of control, making up random things to drive me insane.
“It’s very nice.” I bunch my trembling fingers into fists and shrug like we’re discussing the dull weather.
There, that sounded neutral and exactly what we agreed on—a truce.
Now you remember you agreed to a truce?
“Nice, huh?”
Although I didn’t see his expression, I’m pretty sure I heard the smirk in his voice. But I don’t dare to confirm because, let’s face it, playful Holden has always been my weak side. So I hum in agreement. “Mmm-hmm.”