Hold My Breath (8 page)

“I got that last one a little early,” I grimace.

“You could put a hundred on your arm now. I know you’ll make it,” she says, her eyes tired, and her smile struggling to stick around. If she believes in me so much, I don’t understand why she won’t let me help her now.

“So then, let me stay,” I say.

She stares at me for several seconds, maybe considering it. But just as she always does, she cuts me off.

“We both know it wouldn’t work,” she says. “You’ve got big things to accomplish, Will Hollister. And I’m the one who decided to be a mom.”

Her words cut, and the taste is bad.

“You weren’t alone in that,” I say, standing and following her to the sink with my cup. She laughs lightly, turning into me and taking my cup with one hand, patting my chest twice with the other.

“Sure am now,” she says.

I step in beside her, taking my cup back from her hand and rinsing it before lifting up a few of the other things piling up in the sink. She wraps her hands around mine and mouths “stop.”

“At least let me do the damn dishes, Tanya,” I sigh.

She shakes her head
no,
cuts the water, and hands me a towel to dry my hands with.

“I have to do this on my own, Will. You won’t be here all of the time to pick up the slack when I get tired…”

I start to protest, but she holds up a hand.

“And I don’t want you to be. I want to know I can claw my way out of holes on my own. And it’s nice to get the practice in while you’re just a phone call away,” she says.

I hold her gaze, daring her to budge, but I know she won’t.

“Okay,” I finally say, tossing the dishtowel on the only open counter space nearby and pulling her in for a hug. Despite how exhausted I know she is, she never once broke down in front of me. The only thing that makes her cry is pride in watching her son achieve something.

“Go make that team, Will,” she says against my chest, her hands patting around me. “And when Dylan learns to talk, he’ll bring his gold-medal winning uncle in for show and tell one day.”

I roll my eyes at her and laugh, backing toward the kitchen door to leave through the carport.

“I’ll settle for a participation ribbon,” I say.

“Dylan would be just as proud,” she says.

I nod, because she’s right. He would. He’s probably the best Hollister who ever lived.

* * *

I
am walking
the path of a series of bad ideas. If there is a wrong call to make, I seem to be powerless against taking it. It’s a sign of how unready I am—yet another thought that I’m conveniently ignoring. I can hear the voices of every counselor I’ve had over the last four years all collectively screaming at me to stop, not to swim in temptations, not to add weight to my already drowning soul.

It was eight thirty by the time I got back from helping Tanya, and my uncle was sleeping in the old, beat-up lounge chair in front of the television—some History Channel show about the first modern irrigation ducts built in the West on loud enough to hear the occasional muttered word. I was lulling myself into ignoring that itch deep inside, trying to focus on the regular pattern of his breathing, when a photo flashed on the screen of a line of girls, all standing in a canal, the skirts of their dresses tied up around their thighs as they bent forward to wash their families’ clothing. The one in the middle—she looked like Maddy.

Or maybe she didn’t at all. Perhaps I was just waiting for the slightest resemblance to put the rest of the pieces already in my imagination into place. I could have closed my eyes just then and I would have seen her. She was everywhere…waiting.

Visiting Tanya and Dylan didn’t make me want Maddy any less. If anything, it made me want her more. It made me resent my brother more—for leaving me with his lies. Maddy looks at me and still sees him, she sees the man we all kept on a pedestal. So many times, I’ve wanted to tell her the truth about who he really was, what he did. But that would only crush her. And maybe she wouldn’t even be able to look at me at all then, and that…I can’t go back to that. I missed her too much.

I can keep the secret. But I can’t avoid getting close to the fire. Temptation and I have always been codependent.

I dig through the suitcase I’m living out of and find my long-sleeved black shirt. I put on the antique watch Duncan gave me for my birthday and look long and hard at the man in the mirror. I shave quickly and look at him again. I recognize him sometimes, and parts were familiar tonight. There’s enough of the
good
Will to push the lesser man out the door and down stairs to the front lobby—where I sit now, my back against the doors leading to the pool, my elbows on my knees, and my eyes intent on the front door and lights from the car pulling into the parking lot.

The window I have to escape is small, and it grows shorter every passing second. My legs stretch and my muscles remind me that they’re strong enough to stand, to run before Maddy gets her key in the door. My ears hear the lock twist. I don’t move, and when she steps inside, the look on her face breaks everything left that was strong inside of me. She was hoping I would be here.

“Hey,” she says, her voice a raspy whisper.

She shuts the door quietly then turns to face me again, her arms folded over her chest. There’s a slight sway to her hips, and I laugh to myself because she’s not going to let this go.

“You get done with all of that…
paperwork
?” There’s a little bit of gloating to her tone, like she’s caught me. I’m sure she thinks I’ve done something bad, or screwed something up that requires the help of lawyers. I’m fine with her thinking that. It’s so much better than the truth, and if I can protect her from that, then I’ll keep playing the role of the high-profile Indiana screwup.

I bring my hands up to my face, rubbing my cheeks for feeling to mask my reaction.

“Yep,” I say. “All done.”

I keep my answer short, and she shakes her head,
tsking
. After a few seconds, though, her arms finally fall to her sides, and her posture warms. She’s still irritated with me, and I know this isn’t the end of her prying, but for now…I have a break.

The closer she comes, the more the dim lights from the Swim Club lobby catch her profile. She’s not wearing anything special. It’s a black sundress falling just above her knees. I’m not looking at the dress though. I’m looking at her bronzed legs, the curves proof of her discipline every day of her life for the last decade. As I stand from the ground, I take in her golden shoulders, the way her hair is swept up in a twist, her neck long and soft. The front of the dress is modest, but the line along her chest traces every curve the way I’ve dreamt of doing with my hands. I look at her shoes last, lines of strappy leather that wrap around her feet and ankles, heels tall enough to make her look closer to my height, though I know she’s not. These aren’t her normal shoes, and I know she wore them hoping I’d see them. The message they send is nothing but temptation—the greatest weakness I’ve ever had, too—
wanting her.

“You look absolutely nothing like that girl I snuck into the Mill all those years ago,” I say, my steps slow as I approach her, enough of my wits with me to stop before I get too close. If I breathe any of her in, I will drown.

“Same girl,” she says through a sideways smile. I hadn’t forgotten how she sometimes talks out of one side of her mouth. I
had
forgotten how much I liked it.

“Taller shoes,” I say, raising my eyebrows and glancing down her legs. She turns one foot into the other.

“First chance I’ve had to wear them,” she says, laughing softly. “I’ll probably be barefoot within the hour.”

Mental pictures of her leg in my hands, my fingers unbuckling her shoe, sliding it away before my hand runs up her calf, under her knee, to her thigh. I bite the tip of my tongue and smile at her joke, stopping myself before I think too far.

“When’s the rookie showing up?”

Maddy pulls her phone from a small purse slung around her body.

“Ten minutes. I…got here early. I didn’t want her to have to wait outside,” she says.

I nod once and hold her gaze, reading her until she looks away.
Did you come here early for me?
I watch her profile, and the way she avoids looking at me straight on fills me with a twisted sort of hope because I shouldn’t want this, and probably even more so, neither should she.

Her head falls to the side eventually, and her mouth twists in a crooked smile while her eyes scan down to my shoes.

“Pretty much first time I’ve worn these, too,” I say, kicking the toe of the black leather into the ground.

“Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about joining us?” she asks.

I pull my lips tight and breathe in through my nose, a tiny pause to make sure I’m really going to follow through before I nod and meet her eyes again.

“Well, here’s the thing. This new me…he makes an excellent designated driver,” I say, shifting my weight, my hands pushed deep in my pockets again, my right hand gripping my keys.

We both turn when there’s a soft knock at the front door. Maddy didn’t close it all the way, so it slides open in the middle of Amber’s knock.

“That’s probably good, Will, because I’m pretty sure I’m drinking,” Maddy says, her voice quiet and her words just for me. Her shoulders are raised, and I hear her exhale as she steps away from me and reaches her arms out to hug the young girl who still looks up to her—even though she beat her today. Maddy has never been good at losing, but she’s gotten better at grace it seems. I know that’s why she invited this girl out tonight, to keep herself from turning her into an enemy, even though on some level, she has. She won’t beat Maddy again, and I bet my old friend shows up nice and early Monday just to make sure her muscles are primed and her starts are the fastest.

“I wore pants. I hope it’s okay; they’re all I have with me. But my top is nice. Does this work? Will they let me in?”

Maddy slides her arm through Amber’s, smiling at the young ball of nerves wearing gold glitter, blonde curls and a shirt that falls down one shoulder.

“You’ll be fine. You look great,” Maddy says, looking over her shoulder at me as she walks back out to the parking lot. Her expression is sad, and I know she wanted me to see it. She’s wishing she wasn’t going to a place with so many memories, and she’s mad at herself for being drawn there. She could have taken this girl out to any of a dozen different bars, but instead she chose this one—the one place that’s significant. I draw in a full breath and feel the burn of it in my chest. Whatever that face she made meant, it’s exactly what I feel, too. I think probably there just aren’t words for it.

I start heading to my car when Maddy stops in the middle of the lot.

“My friend Holly’s coming. I see her lights at the end of the street. We can take her car,” she says.

I put my keys away just as a lifted Jeep Wrangler barrels into the lot, sliding to a stop in the rocks a few feet away from us. I raise my brow and look at Maddy.

“I’ll be sure she knows you’re our designated driver,” she says, smiling on one side of her mouth.

“Or maybe, I just drive no matter what, because…” I stop, pointing to the dust still settling behind her giant tires.

Maddy chuckles, opening the passenger door for Amber to climb inside. I wasn’t kidding about driving. I have a feeling my control issues are not going to remain in check if I’m going to be in the back seat while this Holly chick drives. I round the Jeep and hold up a hand at the driver. She has short, red hair and freckles along her nose and cheeks; she begins laughing lightly to herself while she rolls down her window.

“No thanks, I don’t need valet,” the chick says before I even get a word out. She’s mouthy, and kinda funny. The old me would really get along with her, but the new me doesn’t like being called a car parker.

I purse my lips and step closer to the window, holding on to both sides.

“I’m Will,” I start.

“I figured,” she shrugs, nodding over her shoulder for me to get in the back.

“Uh, yeah…” I chuckle then hold out my palm. “I’m your designated driver tonight.”

She puckers her lips and narrows her gaze on me then looks down to my hand and back up again.

“I ain’t drunk yet, Will,” she says.

“You sure about that?” I ask, my brow raised. I’m teasing, but not really because fuckin’ wheelies, man!

Holly holds my stare for a second, then breaks into laughter, slapping my palm.

“Get your ass in the back, Will,” she says. “Dude, Maddy. You didn’t tell me Will was so funny!”

I exhale and yank the back door open, meeting Maddy’s eyes on the other side as I climb in. I thought hanging out in a bar around endless alcohol was going to be the tough part about tonight, but it turns out the drive there is what’s going to do me in.

“You were right about him being cute, though,” Holly says, peeling out of the lot before my belt is secure. The moment my buckle snaps into place I look across the seat; Maddy is staring out her window, her hand squeezing her neck on my side, hiding her face. Right now, Holly could drive me off a fucking cliff and I wouldn’t notice.