Page 70 of Free to Live
But as much as I want this, as much as I crave this, it’s wrong.
Tears form behind my eyes even as I break the kiss. I’m supposed to be Joe’s person. The one person in this world he’s opened up to about how he’s felt about Mary, about his fears about Grace, and who’s supposed to make him feel less alone. As much as he might think he wants this right now, I know better. It’s pain and the alcohol driving him.
It’s not me.
Turning away, I wrap my arms tightly around myself. Where just a few moments ago we shared hysterical laughter, now there’s an oppressive silence as what just happened registers.
I wait for the first blow. I know I don’t have to wait long.
“Jesus, Holly.” Joe’s voice is shaky. “I didn’t mean…” I hold up a hand with my back still turned toward him.
“Let’s just call this a drunken aberration, okay?” I wish my voice would come out stronger than a whisper, but I can’t force it to be.
“No, let me…” he starts again, but I quickly interrupt. It hurts to hear him want to apologize for something I’ve secretly been wanting since the first time we went to a movie together and our fingers collided against one another in the slippery popcorn at the same time.
It hurts worse because I know I’ll never be able to have it again.
“Just head up to bed, Joe. Second door on the left. I’m going to clean up some of this mess so I don’t have to face it in the morning.” I don’t want the reminder of what happened between us when I wake up.
Though he doesn’t say anything, I feel him come up behind me. My body stiffens even as my heart melts as his hand passes through my hair. “Thank you.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for,” I reply truthfully, albeit painfully.
“There’s more to thank you for than you could possibly understand,” With a last brush of his fingers, Joe leaves me standing in the early-morning light of my kitchen.
I wait until I hear the bedroom door close upstairs before I begin cleaning.
And crying.
* * *
Hours later,after I fitfully toss and turn in my own bedroom down the hall, I get up to make some coffee. To my surprise, there’s a pot already made. Alongside it is a note that says, “It was the least I could do.”
Before I pour myself the first cup, I walk over to the window and glance out.
Joe’s Explorer is no longer in my driveway.
Letting out a sigh, I turn away from the promising spring day, knowing it’s already gone to hell. Right along with my hopes and dreams.
38
Holly
Afew days later, I’m in my office touching up some photos. I’ve only got a few more pixels to finish, and I want to get this done. I need to get out of here tonight before I murder someone—namely Phil, who thinks it’s his goddamn right to know everything about my life.
It’s bad enough we had Justin’s funeral today. As if a sea of black uniforms and the flag draped over his casket wasn’t heartbreaking enough, I had to witness a petite blonde throw herself into Joe’s arms when the ceremony was over just as I was working up my courage up to offer my condolences since we’ve barely communicated since the night we kissed. I froze when I realized it was the same woman who was with him at The Coffee Shop. I didn’t recognize her at first until he wrapped his arms around her and steered her away, her long blonde hair draping over his arm much like it did when I saw them. My heart aching and calling myself three kinds of a fool, I detoured and offered them instead to Chief Bianco and his wife on behalf of all of the Freemans. Once I made my way back over to my family, we left just as we arrived—together.
In Em’s Rover—the only car large enough to hold all of us—Phil immediately turned toward me and began his interrogation. “I thought I saw his car outside your house the day after the fire.”
“Let it go, Phil,” Em gritted out. She was driving, otherwise, I think she might have punched him.
“This is complete bullshit,” he growled.
“No, what’s bullshit is we just laid someone we know in the ground, and this is what you want to talk about?” I snapped.
Abashed, Phil turned around to shut up.
As soon as we reached the mansion, I hopped out of the car and raced inside. Sprinting up the grand staircase to my office, I slammed and locked the door before I burst into tears.
