Page 68 of Free to Live
She bites her lower lip. My eyes are automatically drawn to it. I reach out a finger to tug it out. “You should stop doing that. It’s going to bruise,” I say solemnly.
Her hand reaches up to touch my cheek. “I heard what happened on the news. What do you need?”
And this right here sums up how I’ve come to care about Holly so quickly. Forget about the fact we’ve been on the outs with each other. She doesn’t give me any demands, no arguments or pressure, just openness and giving. Closing my eyes on a wave of pain, I whisper, “I need to forget for a little while.”
Her hand squeezes my face gently before it travels down my arm. When she reaches my wrist, she gives it a tug. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. Then I’ll help you forget.”
Guiding me into her home for the first time, I just hope I don’t bring misery to her sanctuary.
* * *
If you’d have askedme if I would have ever thought I was a bath man, I would have called you a liar. And I would have immediately been wrong.
Soaking in Holly’s bathtub with a martini on the floor next to me, I’m in the almost dark. Holly left the light in her water closet on after she filled the tub. She also left me some of Phil’s clothes that “He leaves here in the event he decides to crash when Jason has to work overnights,” she explained. So not only would I be able to luxuriate in water that’s easing the aches from my body and mind, I’m able to do so without smelling like a choice of a floral bath bomb or children’s shampoo since Phil keeps a supply of his own toiletries in each of his sisters’ homes.
Reaching for the martini, I take a long drink. Absentmindedly, I notice my fingers pruning. I guess it’s time to haul my ass out of this tub and give Holly her bedroom back. Placing the drink on the floor, I push myself to my feet. Water sluices down my body. Blindly, I search for the switch to pull for the drain when I start to slip. “Shit,” I curse as I catch myself.
“Joe?” Holly’s voice comes from outside the door. “Is everything all right?”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Yeah, I was just trying to find the stopper.”
“Just step on the drain. It’s built in.”
Grateful she’s not able to call me out on my almost header, I do as she says. The water quickly begins to spin as it circles down the drain. “Pretty damn cool,” I mutter as I reach for a towel. I’m more than a little surprised to find it warm. Alcohol making my filter disappear, I yell out, “A heated towel rack? That’s sweet.”
There’s a pause before she calls back, “I’m from the South, Joe. Winters up here aren’t my favorite time of the year. I had it added when I built my house.”
“I might need to look into one of those.” I wait for her comment back as I dry myself off, but there’s nothing but silence. Carefully laying the towel on the floor so I don’t slip again, I dry my feet. Picking up my drink, I pad naked over to the stack of clothing on the bathroom vanity. I’m pleasantly surprised to find drawstring pajama pants and a thermal pullover shirt. Holly even left me a comb, which I quickly use through my hair. I finish off my drink before I set her bathroom to rights.
Bundling up all of my dirty clothes and the wet towel, I open up the bathroom door. I spy two chairs over by the giant window overlooking a grove of trees. Holly is ensconced in one with her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs. Her hair is cascading down her back and side like liquid flame. It reminds me of the fire we fought and sacrificed another brother to tonight. And just like that, the pain of Justin comes flooding back. I lean against the jamb, pressing the fist of my free hand into my chest. Hard.
Having heard the door open, Holly witnesses all of this. Sliding her knees to the side, she pushes herself to her feet and makes her way to me. Her nose twitches slightly as she gets closer, but other than that her expression doesn’t change. “Give me all of that,” she demands quietly.
Passing off a bundle of wet and smelly clothes shouldn’t feel like a burden shared, but it does. I hope my expression conveys my gratitude because when I try to open my mouth, my throat closes up.
Her lips curl in a sad smile. “Hold on to your glass while I toss all this into the wash, then we’ll head downstairs. Tonight sounds like a perfect night to raid the liquor and the food.”
“Why liquor and food?” I ask, not disagreeing. It sounds fucking perfect.
“Whenever one of our hearts were broken, it’s what we’d do for each other. If it works for us, I figure it might work for you.”
Closing my eyes, I send up a small prayer for stupid event planners, for teachers who think they’re God’s gift to men, and to whatever brought the Freemans to Connecticut. Opening them, I murmur, “That sounds perfect, Hols.”
The inner glow that lights her eyes sparks one inside me I thought might be dead. I thought I smothered it when I was stupid enough not to give her my honesty. How horrific for me to realize it still blazed on the night Justin was killed in the line of duty?
37
Holly
“So, there we were trying to sneak back in—” Joe’s wiping tears of laughter from his eyes and takes a sip from another martini; we’ve drunk so many I’ve lost count. “—and my father’s voice booms down at us, ‘I don’t want to know! Just get to bed before I have to call Hulk to get your asses in line.’”
I’m wiping my own eyes on my shirtsleeve. Jesus. I can totally picture this. “Who’s Hulk?”
“Brett’s dad. Worked with my dad for years before he and his wife retired to Florida a couple of years back. He was a fixture at the station my whole life.”
“How did he get that nickname?” I ask curiously.
“Because just like Bruce Banner, his eyes would change color when he was pissed. As Brett grew older, we saw that look happen more and more.” Both of his dimples appear when he grins. I ignore the fleeting skip of my heartbeat and just shake my head.
