Page 78 of Pieces Of You

“Yeah?” I can’t help but grin. “Itfeelsgood, being out here.” I point to my head. “I just need a straw hat.”

“Nah,” he says, lifting his chin. “I’ll do you one better. Come here.” He pats his lap, and I don’t hesitate to lay my head on there. Facing the overcast sky, I settle my arms at my side and stay quiet as I watch him reach across and pull out a bunch of daisies. He drops them on my stomach and, one after the other, starts joining them together. For minutes, we sit in silence while his large hands work delicately at making the chain longer and longer. Occasionally, he asks me to lift my head to measure the length, and when he’s not satisfied, he taps his lap again. Over and over, he does this, his brow drawn, eyes focused on his task.

“How did you even know how to make these?” I ask.

“Are you kidding?” He scoffs. “Mia used toliterallystand over me with a huge stick, threatening to beat me with it unless I made, like, fifty a day for her.”

I giggle into his tight stomach. “I like Mia.”

“She’d like you, too,” he murmurs, picking more flowers from the grass beside us. “I’m trying to convince her to fly over for Thanksgiving, so maybe you’ll meet her then. My mom invited Esme, and my dad and his girlfriend will be here, too. And my grandparents.”

I can’t ignore the sudden racing of my pulse or the warmth that floats across my chest and into my heart. It comes out a whisper when I ask, “You want me to meet them?”

Holden shrugs. “Sure, why not?” He taps at my forehead, my cue to lift my head, and so I do. Carefully, he places the daisy chain around my head, and smiles when he’s satisfied. Then he places his hand on my nape, holding my head up while he snaps a quick photo, a soft smile gracing his hardened features. When he’s done, he lays me gently back on his lap. “You don’t want to meet them?”

“No, I do,” I’m quick to answer, sitting up and turning to him. “I just… I don’t know.” I sigh. “Sometimes I feel like you just say these things… throw them out as if they don’t hold any meaning—”

“And sometimes I think you underestimate me,” he cuts in. “Look, Jamie.” He heaves out a breath, leaning back on his outstretched arms. “I’m not someone who needs to deep-dive into every emotion or scrutinize everything we do.” His eyes meet mine, penetrating. “I say what I mean, and I mean what I say, and as long as you understand that, then nothing matters.”

37

Jamie

I checkthe time on my phone. And then the day,Wednesday.Holden isn’t at the lockers where we always meet to go to Esme’s, and the more students that clear the corridor, the more confused I become. Just as I bring up Holden’s number, someone calls out to me. I look up to see Dean walking toward me, his strides long and rushed. “There you are,” he huffs. He’s out of breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I thought you met Holden out at his truck.”

“No.” I shake my head. “Why?” Then I look over his shoulder, stupidly expecting to see Holden. “Where is he?”

My first thought is that something horrible has happened, but before I let that fear fully set in, Dean answers, stopping just in front of me. “He didn’t tell you?”

My patience for anything Dean-related ran out a long time ago. “Tell mewhat?”

“He had to fly home to North Carolina for some emergency.”

“Is it his dad?” I ask, frantically dialing his number. “Mia?”

“I don’t know.”

Phone held to my ear; I listen to it ring out.

Dean watches, his eyebrows drawn.

I try again—the same result.

“Look,” he says, stepping even closer, “the only reason I know is because his mom called the school and said he might be out for a few days. They told my dad, and my dad told me so we could work out some new plays for Friday’s game.”

“Right.” I send Holden a text asking if everything’s okay and then pocket the phone. “I should go,” I tell Dean. “I have to catch a bus to Esme’s.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

Eyes wide, I ask, “To take me to Esme’s?”

“Well, yeah. And the program—it has to be done in pairs, so…” he trails off, and I hate where he’s going with this.

I rear back, my shoulders slumping. “So you’re going with me?”

He nods. “Unless you want to call her and cancel.”

“Yeah, that’s probably best.”

---