Page 40 of Holly Freakin' Hughes

“So,how exactly did you see this all playing out? I’m really interested to hearit.” Nick leaned against the back of his seat, folding his arms over his bonychest.

“Idon’t fucking know, Nick. I guess I thought she’d find out one day, she’d getpissed at me for keeping it from her, and—” My voice dropped to a whisper insynchronization with my eyes, gazing at the table. “Yeah, that’d be it.”

“Holyshit.” Nick uttered, uncrossing his arms. “Youreallylike her.”

Isighed, shaking my head, and then I was swallowed up by a wave of unexpectedemotion. Fighting hard against the constriction in my throat, I brought a handup to shield my eyes; pointer finger and thumb pressing against my temples.

“No,I fuckingloveher, Nick,” I said, and with an embarrassing intake ofquivering breath, I felt the beginnings of tears prick at my eyes. I shook myhead, rapidly blinking them away, and dropped my hand. “Dude, I’m terrified oftelling her the truth. It’s so fucking stupid, and I know it’s what I have todo, but—fuck. What happens if she finds out and gets pissed off that Ikept it from her? What if I tell her and all she sees is dollar signs? What ifshe goes to the press and ruins me? I guess I would deserve that, but—”

“Or… what ifnoneof that happens? What if she lovesyou, forwhatever fucking reason, and this is your chance at being happy?” I blinked myresponse, feeling foolish for never thinking of that as a possibility. “If youlove her, it’s not fair to either of you to not tell her that.”

Birdybrought over our meals, and gasped at the tail-end of the line she hadoverheard. “Youstillhaven’t told her? Brandon Alexander Davis, what inHeaven’s name is wrong with you?” she hissed at me, placing the heaping platesof food down in front of us. “Your mother is going tokillyou, youknow.”

“Well,if you had kept your damn mouth shut like I had asked you to, Mom never would haveknown about any of this in the first place,” I reminded her stiffly, rolling myeyes up to look at her.

Themanicured hand that had sat on her hip reached out to grab my scruffy chin andforcefully turned my head to face her. My eyes met hers and saw not anger at myfresh talk, but compassion towards my well-being. I felt the stone walls of myheart begin to crumble.

“B.,the whole ‘reclusive author’ thing doesn’t work for you, so knock it off.Listen to your friend, and tell that girl how you feel.” I grumbled a response,not committing or signing any contracts, and she released me with a gentleshove. “Okay, now I’m going to get a bag of food together for you. I’ll sendyou home with another turkey club, and you want a chunk of this new blueberry crumbleI tried out? The crumble is made of—get this—Cap’nCrunch. You want to try some?”

Iswallowed at the lump in my throat. “Yeah, sure.”

Sheclapped me on the back jovially, as though the serious turn in conversation hadnever been taken.

AsBirdy walked away towards the kitchen, Nick salted his fries and I took a biteof my wrap despite not feeling at all hungry. The turkey rolling around on mytongue instantly turned sour, and I forced myself to swallow.

Iturned my head to look out the window at the SUV I had custom-built for myselfthe moment I could afford it, and I thought about Holly’s old rusty minivan. Ithought about the old Victorian on the lake in Brightwaters, standing emptywith the ghosts inhabiting its walls, cursing my name for leaving it empty forso long. I thought about how she could turn it into her dream home in any wayshe wished. I thought about how long it had been since I had eaten ahome-cooked meal on a night that wasn’t Thanksgiving or Christmas, and how bigmy bed never ceased to feel.

Finally,I thought about her eyes and how I found myself struggling to not disappear intheir depths. My desperate need to protect her from anything that could cause herharm. Kissing her in the parking lot and the lack of self-control I felt forthe first time in years. What kind of idiot would throw that away? Maybe thischance wasn’t meant for another me in another life, butthisme,thislife.

Inodded to myself. A decision was made, and although I was scared shitless, Iknew it was the only thing that felt right.

“So,hey, I have a question.” Nick broke the silence, looking up casually.

“Yeah?”

“Holly… She’s the inspiration, huh?” Nick asked, and I turned back to him. Myexpression seemed to say it all. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Write yourgoddamn book, and I’ll handle the rest.”

Andjust like that, my shoulders felt a little lighter.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

HOLLY

The bruise around my eyehad started to get better—and bybetter, I mean it was garish and a lovely shade of brown. According to Google,this was an obvious sign of it healing, and that it wouldn’t go through anyother color transformations; instead, it was now going to fade away until itwas gone. But according tome, it was just as hideous as it was when itwas red and blackish purple.

Andwhile its appearance was apparently looking better, the pain of having a brokeneye socket hadn’t improved much in a little more than a week’s time. I mean, I guessthe constant throbbing had started to subside a little—but still, it was abroken bone, for crying out loud, and I wasn’t blessed with supernaturalhealing powers.

WhatI was blessed with, however, was a date with Ben, the buddy Mark haddistastefully mentioned to me on that fateful day when his daughter cracked myface. So, I guess in a way, he owed me.

Lizhad known exactly who the buddy in question was, and she seemed excited enoughfor me to go out with him. But when she asked what had suddenly changed mymind, I neglected to tell her that my romance novels were starting to get thebetter of me at Story Time. Making me feel things I wasn’t wanting to feel forfriends and all that. So instead, I told her that I was ready to get back inthat saddle again, and I guess it wasn’t entirely a lie.

Witha date coming up and a fresh desire to look like a human being and less like anextra onThe Walking Dead, I talked Liz and Esther into going out withme to get our hair done. It wasn’t difficult to twist Liz’s arm, but Esther wasa whole other story with her insisting that Harry was fine with her lookinglike an old used Q-tip.

“Comeon, Esther,” I had pleaded, “don’t you think your creepy ghost husband wouldlove to see you with a new ‘do?” She did begrudgingly agree to going, but onlyfor a trim and nothing more.

Lizand I had gotten our hair colored; a lightened blonde with honey highlights forLiz and a deep auburn for me, giving my already dark hair a nice reddish hue.Esther was left to badger the receptionist about the offensive smell of theplace. Liz and I exchanged mortified glances, listening to our friend threatento call her attorney to question him about elder abuse. Luckily, she refrainedfrom calling any lawyers and once we all sat to get our haircuts, hercrabbiness changed to something sort of resembling excitement.

“Esther,you lookadorable,” Liz cooed, admiring the poufy pixie Esther’s wispyhair had been cut into.

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