Page 94 of Free to Live
“If you can’t control yourselves, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” comes a cold voice from behind me. In unison, we turn to find Holly standing a few feet inside the door with her arms akimbo. Her eyes are narrowed on Seth like she wishes she could personally squash him with the leather riding boots she’s wearing.
“We’re having a private conversation,” Just that quickly he dismisses her. Before he can open his mouth again, she stalks forward.
“This is private property. As the owner, I can assure you that I do not sanction this occurring on my property. You have one minute to leave before I contact the CPD to notify them of your disturbing the peace.” Turning her head toward me slightly, she wonders aloud, “I wonder if you’d be able to get Detective Idrissi to include a stalking charge as well.”
Eden tugs at Seth’s arm. “Let’s go, Seth.”
Mary’s father levels a narrow-eyed stare at me. “We’re not done, you and I. I want to see that journal.”
“I’ll be all too pleased to let you see it,” I assure him before I hustle Holly inside and close the door behind us.
Even as I try to get my bearings, it’s her rasping breath that fills the room. “And at this juncture, I think you have a right to be upset,” I try to joke to lighten the oppressive mood.
She turns incredulous eyes on me. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“Shit. I’m sorry, Hols. I’m sorry they came here…”
“Stop apologizing and talk to me! This isn’t a joke, Joe,” she snaps.
Pulling her into my arms, I lay my head against hers. “I know it’s not.” I feel the warm brush of air against my lips as her breath pushes out in a burst. “It wasn’t too long before I met you for the first time,” I admit.
She stiffens in my arms. I can tell she wants to put some distance between us, but I won’t let her.
“I’d been working on the 5K on a day off while Grace was napping and I couldn’t hack it anymore. So I went into her closet. I hadn’t even begun to clear things out at that point.” I rest my head on the crown of hers. “It was like it was waiting there for me, Hols. All this time, all the times I sought refuge in that closet to smell her scent one more time, and for some reason, I couldn’t hack it. I don’t know what made me reach for the bar to grab on to, but when I did, it couldn’t support my weight.” I laugh bitterly. “One of the home projects I never got around to. When the bar came down, a mess of things fell to the floor. Her journal must have fallen out of a bag. I can’t imagine what would have happened if I didn’t find it and Grace did.” My body shudders in reaction.
Holly wraps her arms around my waist and squeezes me tightly. “I’ve got you.”
I wrap mine over hers. “I know.”
“So, that’s when you moved into the anger stage of your healing,” she surmises.
“I honestly don’t know what I was,” I admit. “I was pissed, but I loved her too, Hols. And I can’t imagine a life without Grace in it any more than I can imagine one without you…” My voice trails off as Holly stills in my arms.
“Is that a good thing?” Her voice is subdued. In light of what we’re talking about, I give her that play otherwise I know I’d be ranting at her for not appreciating her value to my life.
Which is everything,
“Yeah, sweetheart. It is.” I bend over and brush my lips against hers. “So, this isn’t quite the welcome home I wanted to give you.”
Her lips quirk. “What were you going for?”
I brush my lips against hers. “Romantic.” I kiss her again. “Tender.” My third kiss lands on her neck. “Seductive. I wanted you in the right frame of mind to listen to me when I caught you up on the part of the conversation you didn’t overhear earlier.”
51
Holly
“What…what do you mean?” I knew Brett saw me, but I wasn’t sure if Joe had. I’d dropped by the station because I’d missed him. Being without him for even a few days with only a few phone calls is an adjustment, but one I’m committed to making. I’d never ask him to change who he is; that’s who I fell in love with. But when I walked into the break room, I overheard him discussing how he’d always be in love with Mary.
To say my mood plummeted from exuberant to devastated would be an understatement.
To help me understand the long-term ramifications of how to approach Joe’s grief over losing Mary, I’ve been reading articles online about how soon is too soon for love to happen after someone becomes a widower. Although Joe and Mary weren’t married, classifying their relationship as anything else doesn’t seem to work. The answers are oblique at best; there’s no definitive period for mourning. Some psychologists are clear this sense of duality Joe expressed to Brett is rational, that he feels like he’s a different person due to the tragedy that affected his life.
I just wonder if this means I’m going to be competing silently in Mary’s shadow forever for the heart of the man I love.
“I mean, you missed the part where Brett asked if I was in love with you.”
“What?” The words come out as a choked whisper. Joe moves toward me, but I back away, my hand held up.
