Page 22 of Pieces of Me

I want to soar.

I inhale deeply and am immediately overwhelmed by the scents filling my nostrils. A tingle runs up my spine, and I can’t help but giggle right before I inhale again. And again. And again. I don’t stop. Not even when I hear a door opening somewhere in the far, far distance. I want to drown in this scent. Die in it.

“You good, Gladys?” Holden mumbles.

My eyes snap open, and the laughter that pours out is so unfamiliar I almost don’t believe it came from me. “It smells so good here,” I say, looking up at him.

His hair is still damp, and he’s dressed in gray sweatpants and a plain navy tee that stretches across his broad chest and wide shoulders. He looks like… aman. Like a ridiculously handsome man who should be wielding an axe and chopping firewood. I bet hedoesdo that. I bet Brianna watches him do that. I bet she gets off on him doing that.

He takes his time looking at our surroundings, his brow bunched, right before he sniffs the air. Then he eyes me sideways. “It smells like animal shit, Jamie.” He approaches, standing only a foot in front of me.

I shake my head, adamant, and ignore the throbbing it creates. “No, it doesn’t.” I crane my neck to lock eyes with his and make a show of sniffing the air. “It smells like damp moss. And rain. And wet tree trunks. And… flowers. So many flowers that I can’t distinguish a single one.”

He watches me a moment, his head tipped to the side, and his eyes…

My gasp is slow, quiet.

His eyes are the color of the leaves—a lively forest. No wonder I had such a visceral reaction.

“Are you sure you don’t have a concussion or something?” he asks, squatting down in front of me.

He reaches up, shifts the hair from my forehead, and this time, I let him. Voice weak from his closeness, I answer, “I’m sure.”

His hand’s cupping the side of my face now, and his eyes are right on mine. Not on the wound. “How sure?”

I force a swallow, and he focuses on my throat before coming back up. I say, “Very.” And try to pull back, but he doesn’t let me go. “I have a lot of experience with concussions.”

His eyes widen just a tad, because he knows exactly what I mean. I was young—too young—when I had to learn the difference between a contusion, a concussion, and all the other injuries my mom’s boyfriend “lovingly” gave her. “No, you have experiencehelpingsomeone with a concussion. You haven’t had any yourself, have you?” He raises his eyebrows, waiting for a response.

“Haveyou?” I retort.

“Please,” he scoffs. “I was the star of my high school football team, remember? Or did yourconcussiongive you memory loss?”

“The football team sucked, and you were far from the star,” I quip. “I’d say you were average at best.”

“You only watched me play once!”

“Yeah, I was one and done,” I say through a giggle. “You were quite the disappointment, Holden Eastwood.”

He doesn’t reply. He just stares and stares. And I stare back. And the longer we hold each other’s gaze, the quicker our smiles spread. So does the warmth in my chest. Becausethis—this familiar back and forth between us—it feelsright.

It feels like I’m flying.

Soaring.

“So you’re okay?” he asks, and suddenly his hand is moving, from the side of my head, across my cheek, and down to my neck. I can’t take my eyes off his. Even when I feel my breaths becoming shorter, my mouth becoming dryer. He doesn’t stop at my neck, though. He moves lower again—his rough, calloused hand moving to my shoulder, my collarbone,beneathmy tank.

My exhales are nothing but tiny spurts of air falling from my lips, and now his other hand is on my waist, his fingers curling, grabbing at the fabric and shifting it just enough to palm the small of my back.

I get lost in the contact, the electric charge between us, and I forget who I am. Who he is. Where we are. What the fuck we’re doing. “Holden,” I whisper, and I don’t even know why I say it… what it means.

He inches forward, and I do the same.

“Babe! Where are you?” Brianna calls from inside the house.

We pull apart, like the Red Sea. An ocean of distance between us.

“I’m outside!” he says, standing to full height.

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