Page 32 of Pieces of Me

Shaking his head, he stalks toward me. “I don’t understand why you look so fucking cute all the time.”

“Shut up.”Stupid butterflies. I look down at my clothes: black bike shorts and a loose crop top that shows my midriff. I’ve never been especially toned or blatantlysexyin any way, but he’s always appreciated my body, even when I couldn’t.

“Just look at you, Jamie.” He’s right in front of me now, only inches away, and he doesn’t stop. Not until he has his hand on my bare waist, and he’s pushing me back, slowly, slowly, and I’m sure I could push him away. And Iwantto. Ishould. But I don’t. “I’ve missed your curves,” he murmurs, looking down my body once I’m pressed between him and the four-wheeler. His nose brushes against my cheek on the way to whispering in my ear, “And your goddamn legs...”

Palms flat against his hard chest, I don’t push, but I don’t let him get any closer. “You should really stop talking to me like that.”

“Why?” His voice is rough, breath hot along my ear.

I can’t ignore the pull toward him, even as the following words leave my mouth. “Because you have a girlfriend.”

His soft lips spread, smiling against my neck. “She’d say the same thing.” He pauses a beat. “She swings both ways, you know?”

I’ve already watched him lie in bed with Brianna and do nothing but sleep, and that was enough. Now my mind’s suddenly infiltrated with images of him and her and some random, no name, no face girl screwing like porn stars on a picnic blanket in the middle of nowhere. “Yeah, I really don’t give a shit about her or any other girl you’re fucking.”

He seems to find my anguish comical because he’s laughing silently, his forehead resting against my chest as his shoulders shake. “Fuck, Jamie,” he whispers, and then his knee’s between my legs, spreading them apart as he lifts me by my waist, settling my ass on the hood of the four-wheeler. It was such a swift, effortless move, I didn’t even have time to protest before his hardness presses to my center, and his hands glides up my sides, his thumb brushing the bottoms of my breasts. “I don’t hateyou,” he says. “But I hate that I miss you.” He pulls back, just enough to look in my eyes, hold my stare. And I see it now, the same thing I saw the first time I looked in his eyes.Green, like a lively forest. But when he looks at you—really looks at you—there’s nothing alive about his stare.

Uncertainty crawls through my bloodline and up my throat, squeezing my airways shut.

Holden blinks once, twice, and then over and over again as if just coming out of a daze. Finally, his throat moves with his swallow as he releases me completely, leaving me empty and discarded.

Hot and cold.

“Doesheknow you’re here?”

I was wondering when this would come up. I was hoping for never, but here we are. I try to think of the right thing to say. Dean doesn’t know I’m here, but that’s nothing new. He never knows where I am. And that’s okay. Because he knowswhoI am. “Hehas a name.”

Clearly, that was the wrong answer because Holden says, his teeth gritted and his jaw tight, “Yeah?” His eyes flash dark as he leans in again. “Do you scream it when hefucksyou?”

I push him away with a heavy sigh and slide off the four-wheeler. “Bye, Holden.”

I’m already walking away when he says, “Would you relax? I’m just playing.”

Over my shoulder, I reply, “Funny. I didn’t realize I was part of your game.”

I’ve only taken a few steps when he calls out, “Have you had lunch?”

I stop in my tracks and turn to him.

Hands shoved in his pockets, a hint of a smile curves his lips as he nods toward the four-wheeler. “Hop on.”

* * *

The moment I step inside Holden’s house, I’m overwhelmed by the smell of something amazing. “What is that?” I ask, sniffing the air.

“Lasagna.” He moves behind the kitchen counter and opens the oven, amplifying the scent. “Well, vegan lasagna… and it’s not quite done yet.”

“You turned vegan?” I ask, looking around his house. I wasn’t exactly in the best mental state when I came here the first time, so I didn’t take a lot of it in. Not that there’s a lot to see. “If I remember correctly, you basically lived off burgers and steak.”

Holden chuckles, the single sound making my heart skip a beat. “Not strictly,” he says, opening the fridge. “But I don’t mind it sometimes.” He pulls out a bunch of items from the fridge, then dumps them on the counter, ready to make what I assume is a salad.

Walking toward the kitchen, I ask, “When did you learn to cook?” There are pictures on the fridge, mainly of Holden and a girl I recognize as Mia with a little boy whose smile brings out my own.

“Mia, mainly,” Holden answers, chopping away. “When I was in college, I kind of had this apartment, and she and Benny would come to visit whenever they were free.”

“Oh yeah,” I say, nodding even though we’re back to back and he can’t see me. “The apartment her dad bought you?”

The chopping stops, and I pinch my eyes shut.Fuck.

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