Page 59 of Pieces of Me

Holden…adjusts himself.Rolling his eyes, he states, his tone full of sarcasm, “Right, ‘cause that’s helpful.”

“Sorry,” I say through a giggle. I step forward again, my front almost touching his to hide my body.

He reaches forward, his arms curled around my neck as he brings me toward him, presses a kiss to my forehead. My eyes drift shut as we stay that way, my hands gripping his t-shirt. We seem to breathe each other in, memorizing the moment, knowing it won’t last. “Let me get you some clothes,” he says, pulling away. “I probably have something in my old room that fit me when I was ten.”

I stand taller. “I’m not that little.”

His smile is soft, endearing almost. “You’re pretty little.” And then he turns, squatting down slightly—a move he’s made so many times before—back when we were aweand the world hadn’t torn us to pieces. Without hesitating, I hike up my nightgown and jump on his back, wrapping myself around him. With his arms hooked behind my thighs, he effortlessly carries me through the greenhouse, out of the barn, and toward the house. It’s such a familiar move, one that fills my heart with warmth and longing for what we once were. “I always wondered what your childhood bedroom looked like,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice even.

It’s so still out. So tranquil. I don’t know what I’ll miss the most—this place specifically, Maggie, or the boy currently turning his head toward me, those green eyes of his twinkling beneath the moonlight.

“You never peeked in there?”

“Nope.”

He doesn’t say anything more as he opens the unlocked front door, then makes his way through the dark living room and to a hallway on the left. He flicks on the light, illuminating an entire wall lined with framed pictures of him and his family, some of him and Mia. Unfortunately, I don’t have enough time to appreciate them all because, too soon, we’re in what I assume is his old bedroom. There are two beds in here, pushed up against opposite walls. On the floor is a stack of puzzle boxes. There’s a chest of drawers, and beside it is a TV stand where the remaining dust shows where a TV used to be.

We don’t let go of each other as he opens and closes drawers to find something suitable. Then he carries me to his bathroom, flicking on the light before loosening his hold on me. I slide down his back and land on my feet, taking the offered clothes from him.

He doesn’t watch me dress like I half-thought he would. Instead, he closes the door between us.

I quickly change into sweatpants and a t-shirt, and when I come back out, Holden’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his head down. “I left my granny gown in there,” I joke. “It can be your trophy for winning the water fight.”

His shoulders shake with his slight chuckle.

“So, this is your old room?” I ask, looking around. His walls are bare, the floor scattered with random bits and pieces. It’s as if he came in like a whirlwind and took what he needed for his house and never came back.

“Yep.”

“I bet you’ve had a lot of nasty sex in here.”

His eyes snap to mine, brow bunched in the middle. “Why would you say that?”

“I’m sorry,” I say, scrunching my nose. “I don’t know…”

“I can’t even stand the idea of you with someone else, and you’re bringing up me fucking other girls like you’re not affected by it?”

“I said I’m sorry,” I breathe out, flopping down next to him. I keep my head low, swing my legs back and forth. “What does it matter how I feel? You and Brianna worked it out, right?”

“Who said that?” he asks, turning to me.

I face him. “You said that everything was good between you two, so…”

“Brianna and I broke up,” he says, facing forward as he leans back on his outstretched arms.

My stomach sinks. “When?”

“Yesterday morning.”

My eyes widen. “Because of me?”

He shrugs. “Notyou, specifically. I mean, not because of what happened Friday night.”

“So, what then?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, glancing at me quickly before looking away again. “I guess having you here reminded me of what it felt like to actuallywantto be with someone.”

My heart soars, and it’s pathetic that it does because it doesn’t mean anything. “And I take it you didn’t feel like that with her?”

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