Page 33 of Fierce Love
“If it was me, and if it was Ember, I’d take her confession at face value.”
“Just let her go?” Cal says, skepticism rich in his voice as he slides into the seat at the head of the table, his own coffee in his hand. “Your brother has been pining after her for years.”
“Pining?” I scoff.
“Exactly. She didn’t give you arealreason for her behavior. Or, I don’t know, maybe she gave you a reason that makes sense when you’re eighteen. All I remember of eighteen is alcohol, women, and surfing.”
“You’ve lost me,” I say. This is what I get for suggesting he can give advice—utter nonsense.
“Go after her. You want her. Go after her. Fuck her bullshit reason. At thirty-one, thirty-two, her reasoning is a nonissue. Who cares if you come from different backgrounds? And you’re old enough that you can make any situation work if you really want to.”
“I’m her boss now,” I say. Any attempts at reconnecting on my part bears the weight of off-kilter power dynamics.
“Gage has a point,” Cal says, sitting forward and putting his elbows on the table. “If her reason was the Tucker name or your intimidating-as-fuck mother. Hell, maybe even Jonathan was intimidating to her back then. You’re both old enough to handle all that now. Her reasonisbullshit, or at least it is now that you’re older.”
“It might be bullshit, but it’s pretty clear she wasn’t willing to fight, or eventry, to make us work. Why would I want someone like that back in my life?” My emotions have been all over the fucking map since she claimed what we’d had together was always destined to fail. There are a lot of things in the world that are hard to control, but how much effort you putinto something you want isn’t one of them, and it pisses me off that she gave up without even talking to me about it. Would I have been reasonable about her desire to call it quits? Absolutely not. In hindsight, I sure as shit would have appreciated the conversation. It would have been a hell of a lot easier to let her go than deal with being left in the dark.
“Before Ember, I didn’t get it. I’ll admit that. Longing for some woman for fourteen years? Never gonna be me.” Gage takes a long sip of his coffee before continuing. “Now? I’d move heaven and earth for that woman. No question.”
“You’ve been pretty tight-lipped,” Cal says, pointing his cup at me. “When you’re with Hollyn, does it feel like there’s still a connection?”
Definitely still a simmering fire. Whenever I’m within touching distance, I want to touch. The thought of getting to taste her again makes me immediately hard. As much as I don’t want it to be true, her hold on me is, potentially, just as strong as it once was. Which is fucking terrifying for all kinds of reasons.
Judging by her breathing last night on the love seat, at least the sexual chemistry is mutual. Anything else? I’ve got no idea.
“There’s something,” I admit reluctantly. “Doing anything about that is so fucking risky.” I massage my temples before drawing my hands down my face.
“The power dynamics aren’t ideal,” Cal says with a shrug. “I’m confident that if she gives you a firm ‘no,’ that you’re capable of letting it go.”
Good thing one of us is confident. If I let myself go down this path, I have no idea whether I’m capable of obeying the signage along the way. At seventeen, being with her was the only road I could see—the very definition of tunnel vision—and I’d like to think I’m mature enough to handle those emotions now. But the truth is that I’m out of practice. I haven’t allowed myself to feelthem since Hollyn, so in that sense, I’m still a rookie. Untested. And Cal is really only seeing the risk related to our mutual job.
“What’s the worst that happens?” Gage asks and then his brow furrows, and I wonder if he’s going in all theOh shitdirections my mind has been wandering. “Actually, I don’t know how you survived that heartbreak the first time. I honestly think it would kill me if Ember or Nova walked out on me.”
“One foot in front of the other,” I say, staring into my cup. “The same way you survive anything.”
“You’ve always been one to go all-in,” Cal says. “The rich-poor divide in Bellerive, learning how to produce movies and TV shows, looking out for the underdog. Are you really going to let the one thing—the one person—you’ve wanted the most slip through your fingers because you’re afraid?”
“We don’t know each other anymore. Hollyn is basically a stranger,” I say, but my heart kicks in my chest in denial. My heart knows what my brain wants to deny. I’d know Hollyn anywhere—across space and time and other lives—there is no reality, no version of the world, in which I don’t know Hollyn Davis. To me, it’s impossible.
And so I guess that’s my answer.
“I know what I’d do,” Gage says. “I’d pursue her exactly how you wanted to, how you would have fourteen years ago if you could have found her. It might break your heart again, but at least you’ll fucking know. You won’t spend the rest of your life wondering if you’d have it all if you’d just risked it all.”
He’s right. No matter how much I hate the reason Hollyn gave me for her disappearance, we aren’t kids anymore. The objections she had then aren’t realistic to throw up between us now. Even if there’s something she’s not telling me—and part of me strongly suspects there’s more to the story—pursuing her might dig that up, force it to the surface too. We’ll either get past our history, or my tactics will drive a permanent wedge betweenus, but at least this time I’ll understand why. I’ll feel like I played a real part in how events unfolded.
We were just kids the first time around. I didn’t have the resources or skills I have now, and I intend to use every single one to win Hollyn back, to make her mine.
Chapter Sixteen
Hollyn
Outside the Tucker Millennium Hotel, I stare at the fancy gold and limestone exterior, and I text Posey again. She and her fiancé, Brent, are already inside after having checked into the spa. She’s never done a TV show before, so she couldn’t tell me if the request to come here was normal or not, but an internet search turned up several examples where producers or directors organized bonding events to help increase cast chemistry.
But as far as I know, it’s Posey, Brent, me, and Nate. The four of us. Like some kind of warped double date. At the most luxurious spa in Bellerive. Obviously, the double-date vibe wouldn’t be one Nate—Nathaniel—is trying to create, but it’s in the back of my brain, nudging me, just the same. Why would Posey’s fiancé be here?
Of all the places we could have built some chemistry—a bowling alley or laser tag or rock climbing—why would the production team choose a spa?
I didn’t ask Nate any questions when he texted with today’s date, time, and location. If I seemed reluctant, he might think I’m going back on the decision we made to forge ahead, to pretend like our past together is nothing.
