Page 86 of Pieces Of You

A ribbon of smoke floats up as she looks from the joint to me, again and again. And then she sighs. “Why the fuck not?” She takes the blunt from me while Billy barks out a laugh.

“Damn, Bethany!” he hollers. “If there was ever a guy to pull that stick out of your ass, ithadto be Eastwood.”

40

Jamie

My hands are cramping,and I know I’m gripping the steering wheel way too tight, but I can’t help it. Until last night, it’d been a while since I’d driven, and even then—the diner’s old delivery truck isn’t one I’m used to driving. Honestly, that’s not even the real reason.

I’m nervous.

I spent most of last night tossing and turning, trying to convince myself not to get in the car to find Holden so I could explain why I was at his game with some guy. Not that he deserved an explanation, but it felt like… I don’t know… the right thing to do?

I finally talked myself into sleeping on it, hoping I’d feel different in the morning.

So that’s what I did.

And then I woke up.

And as soon as I opened my eyes, I saw him—Holden—his eyes to be exact. It was the same eyes I’d seen at the end of his games. First the confusion, and then the hurt. Thepain.

So I got up, showered, got dressed, and now I’m pulling into his driveway. There’s trash littering the front lawn, mainly beer cans. Obviously, he had a party last night, and I wonder, as I make my way to his front door, how many of these he’d thrown prior to me entering his world. Plenty, I bet.

I swipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, my hands shaking as I raise my fist. Knock. I’d gone over everything I wanted to say on the drive here, and so I’m ready. Or, as ready as I can be, considering we’ve barely said two words to each other since we broke up.

When no one answers, I hesitate to knock again. This isn’t a good idea. Clearly, it’s a step in the wrong direction. Besides, I was the one who needed time, who needed space, and now I’m forcing myself onto him as if—

The door opens.

And Holden is there, shirtless, eyes squinting against the sunlight. “Jamie?” he croaks, and his scent wafts between us and directly into my nostrils. He smells like… like something I haven’t had the pleasure of smelling since Mom died. “What are you doing here?” he asks, opening the door wider.

I take a step back, trying to remain focused on why I’m here instead of fixating on the state of the clearly hungover boy standing in front of me, alcohol seeping through his pores. He’s barefoot, in workout shorts, his hair flying in all directions. And even when he’s like this.... even at his worst, I have to fight the urge to reach over and touch him. The truth is, I miss him. I miss the boy who brought me joy, pumped life back into my otherwise meaningless existence. “Jamie?” he says again, looking over my shoulder. “Who’s car is that?”

“It’s the diner’s.” I shake my head, clear the sudden storm brewing, and rid the memories of my past. “I uh… I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

He licks the dryness off his lips and crosses his arms, his muscles bulging with the movement. Jerking his head, he says, “What about it?”

I clasp my hands in front of me while I take another step back. “I know that you saw me at your game with um… a guy.”

He quirks an eyebrow.

“He’s Zeke’s nephew,” I rush out, because standing in front of him like this has me antsy. “He’s visiting from Europe, and one of the things he wanted to do was watch a high school football game. For some reason, it seems to be a big deal for foreigners. I don’t get it, but...” I trail off.

Holden stares, and stares, and stares some more. And it’s clear I’m crossing some invisible line by being here. I keep my gaze lowered and my defenses up. “Anyway, Zeke paid me to take him, and I did, and that’s all it was.” I’m rambling, but I can’t seem to stop. “And I don’t know why I felt the need to tell you. I just—I wanted you know that I wouldn’t… orcouldn’t… move on from—”

“Holden?” My eyes snap up at the sound of his name being called. At the familiar voice calling it. “Have you seen my phone?”

Bethany’s standing in the hallway to the bedrooms, dressed in an oversized Townsend Athletics t-shirt, and I’m pretty sure nothing else.

My heart stills… right before it plummets. I spin around quickly, gasping for air, but the only thing that fills my lungs is pain. Pain so overwhelming it blurs my vision, pounds at my flesh from the inside out.

“Jamie!” Holden shouts, and I can hear him behind me, his rushed steps getting louder and louder. I just need to make it to the car, and once I’m inside and far enough away from this hell, I’ll be okay.

Ineedto be okay.

“Jamie, stop!” Holden grabs my elbow, turning me to him, and I don’t know what happens next.

I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline or the anguish or the anger I’ve carried for far too many days now that has mesobbing. “You could have had any girl, Holden.” I cry as the words tumble out of me. But the way Holden watches me, his empty gaze and stoic stance—I could’ve carved the words across his chest, and it’d be no different. I attempt a breath, but it doesn’t calm the storm. “You chose her because you knew it would hurt me!” I wipe at the pathetic, useless tears. “Well, good job, ‘friend,’ because it did!”

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