Page 11 of Pieces of Me

Been there.

Done that.

It didn’t matter that seeing her for the first time in five years felt like a bolt of lightning directly through my chest. Or that one of the first thoughts I had upon laying eyes on her was that it wasn’t fair that she somehow got even more beautiful over the years.

I couldn’t leave the room when everyone else did. Partially because of the shock of what had just happened, but also... I wanted to know if she had anything to say to my face. But then came her tears and the crying, and everything else seemed to fall away.

Untilhewalked in.

First came the confusion. Clarity followed soon after.

I wouldn’t say I’mangry. I’m just… over it. And I have been for a long time.

“If you need time to grieve…” Dad says.

Ah, so he thinks this is about Esme. Good. And while it sucks that she’s gone, it’s not as if we kept in contact. I’m still confused as hell about why she left half her house to me. In fact, I’ve called the lawyer three times since I was there just to make sure there wasn’t some kind of mistake. “I’m fine, Dad. Honestly.” I wipe the sweat off my brow and slide my eyes to his. “And you can tell Maggie Mags the same.”

He smiles, nods. We may not say a lot to each other, but we see everything we need to. Picking up an old clay pot that’s probably been on the workbench since before I was born, he says, “I’m glad you’re home, son.”

I don’t know if he means home from my brief trip to Tennessee or home in general.

After college, Joseph, Mia’s dad/Mom’s newhusband/the-guy-I’ll-never-refer-to-as-my-stepdad, offered me a job. He has one of the most successful tech companies in the country—if not the world—and my job was to… show up every day? I have no idea. I had a business degree in my back pocket, but it meant little in his field. Still, I took the job, got paid to walk around and flirt with interns. Plus, I got to hang out with Mia and her son, Benny. Of course, being close to my mom didn’t suck either. But, I was only there a few months. On paper, I was living the dream. In reality? Not so much.

And then came the phone call that changed everything. Dad, the land, the Eastwood Nursery and Garden Center business that had been in the family for generations… they were struggling, and Dad couldn’t find a way out besides sellingeverything.And everything meant selling myhome.My solace.I’m pretty sure my exact response was, “Fuck that.”

So, I said my goodbyes, hopped on a plane, and headed home like I was Captain Save the Day. Only, I’ve been here a few months now, and I’m not saving much of anything. I narrow my eyes at my dad. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

Dad chuckles—a soft rumble formed deep in his chest. “Yes, boss.”

Yep. I bought him out. At least the property and the business. There was no way I was taking his home from him. But now I’m twenty-three years old and hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt. It’srad.And, it’s the only reason I’m accepting anything from Esme.

Dad sets the clay pot on the pottery wheel—something we haven’t used since my grandma and grandpa ran the nursery—and puts his work gloves back on. “I’ll be in the greenhouse if you need anything,” he says over his shoulder, already walking toward the attached greenhouse. I hear a car pulling into the small parking lot and momentarily pause. We have had no walk-in customers for… too long, and if it is a customer, Mags will get to them before I can. I continue to empty the bags of sod, piling them high against the wall. A moment later: “Holden?”

I turn to see Maggie standing in the doorway, a silhouette against the sunlight. She and Dad have been together for almost eight years now, though they have a history far longer than that. In another life, I might have grown up callingherMom.

In her ever-present ball cap and low, blonde ponytail, she’s dressed virtually the same as I am because not only does she live with my dad, she works with us too. Another reason I couldn’t take the house from Dad—that’s his and Maggie’s home now. She waits until she’s a few feet away, her gray eyes meeting mine. She’s cute for her age, and if I were into older women, she’d probably be my type. You know... if she wasn’tmy dad’s. “Someone’s here for you.”

Removing my gloves, I crack, “Debt collector?”

Maggie shakes her head as I move past her. “No… it’s um…”

I look over her shoulder—at the RV in the parking lot—and the girl standing beside it. “Jamie?”

6

Jamie

“What are you doing here?” Holden’s words are short, sharp, and filled with the same disdain I should learn to accept from him. He doesn’t bother hiding his glare as he approaches me.

I swallow my nerves as I watch him, his green eyes brighter than bright against the sunlight. “I uh…”

Holden stops a few feet from me, eyebrows raised as if wanting me to continue. I can’t even breathe, let alone form words. He’s in dark denim, his signature backward cap, and a khaki shirt with the Eastwood Nursery and Garden Center logo above the breast pocket. It should be illegal to look as good as he does, but that’s nothing new. “Did you hear me, or do you need me to repeat it?” he says. Louder. Firmer.

Sixteen hours. That’s how long it took to drive here, breaking only to pee, eat, and power nap.

“Did you sell the house already?” he asks. “You could’ve just sent me a check. Or transfer. You didn’t have to come all the way here.”

This is not the welcome I was hoping for. It is, however, the welcome I was dreading. Holden’s eyes shift from mine to the RV and back again.

---