Secrets - [Guardian Trilogy 01] (24 page)

“Do I make you nervous?” I asked, not wanting to lose the glimpse of this more vulnerable side of Holden.

“What?” His eyes darted from mine.

“You seem a little jittery.” I caught his eyes again.

“Women do not make me jittery.”

“Even crying ones who move into your apartment?”

“You're not what's making me nervous.”

“What is?”

“All that I can't control.”

I looked around the room. He’d already replaced the sheets on the bed, and it was made with tight military corners. Everything was very clean and in its place. Apparently, his need to control everything extended to his surroundings too. “You can’t control me.”

He stared into my eyes, standing close to me. “I'm honestly not sure what to do with you.”

“Just a few days ago you were convinced you'd hurt me.”

“A few days ago the world was a different place. I was a different person. I’ve chosen my side. There's no going back now.” The intimacy of our soft tones and closeness almost made me forget about my frustration in his ambiguous response. Almost.

“What side are you on?”

“Yours,” he said as if that were the only logical choice. He leaned in towards me; his breath was soft on my face.

 I needed to think about this. I had just left him before I found Juliet because I couldn’t live with him being a criminal, could I now? I looked down. Holden put his hands on my shoulders and gently kissed my forehead before stepping back.

I looked up at him, wanting to reach for him, missing the closeness. But the phone in my hand rang, startling me. I looked down at it as if it was an alien object. It took a moment for my mind to clear enough to see it was my mom. It was like she had a sixth sense—either that or my withdrawal had her frantic.

“Talk to your mother,” Holden said, reading my expression “It isn't fair to make her worry. I spoke with her yesterday. She's concerned.”

I raised an eyebrow. I didn’t see Holden as a parent pleasing type of guy, but I answered the phone. My mind was swimming with the idea that Holden, so elusive, so bored with life, would take the time to speak with my mother.

“Hello.”

“Oh my God, Olivia. Are you all right? I’ve been trying to reach you for days. I would’ve called the police to file a missing persons report had it not been for that nice young man you're staying with answering your phone. You should come home, dear, the funeral's tonight.”

Tonight? No, I can't go. It's too soon. I can't see her like that.
“You are coming to the funeral, Olivia.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I don't know if I can.” I felt dizzy.

“It's important. You need to say goodbye. Poor girl. Did you have any idea how depressed she was?”

“What?”

“Depressed. She must've been, though she seemed fine on Sunday.”

“She wasn’t depressed. She never said anything about being depressed. She didn't kill herself. Do you hear me?” Fresh white hot anger surrounded me, clouding everything else. Why did people not understand she would never do something like that? It was like they didn't know her at all.

“Don't yell at me, dear. I know you're upset, but that’s no excuse. Why don't you come home for a couple days? You could come on my Red Hat Lady cruise with me and the girls—have a rest.”

“No, I just need to be alone for a while. I need to sort things out.” I squared back my shoulders. Juliet would be pissed if I missed her funeral. “I'll be there tonight.”

“I love you, Olivia, you know that right? You can talk to me about anything.”

“Yes, Mom, I know. I love you too. I'll see you tonight.”

“Okay . . .” Mom sounded disappointed, but I couldn't bear the idea of being anywhere Jules and I hung out together. “Well, I'll see you then.”

“Goodbye.”

I hung up the phone, eyeing the bed again. It would be so easy to fall back under the covers and hide in the darkness from the pain of being awake.

“It won’t help,” Holden said from behind me. “Let's get out of the house, get some air.”

“I don't want to go anywhere.”

“Did I make it sound like you had a choice? My mistake, because you don't. You need clothes for the funeral, and we can stop by the police station on the way to pick the note.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Your voice carries in here. I had to guess at a few of the details, but they weren't that hard to figure out.”

“Hmph … you spoke with my mom yesterday.” The thought still made me smile just a little bit. It was also preferable to talking about suicide notes and funerals. I didn't want to feel the smothering pain and loss. I might not be able to live with his life forever, but he was an excellent distraction now.

“I did. She called so many times I knew she was upset. You don't mind?”

“Not at all. It was very nice of you.”

Holden looked uncomfortable, but shrugged it off. “Well, let's go. Put your shoes on.” He dangled my keys in front of me as if they might tempt me.

The funeral and my apartment were the last places I wanted to go. I didn't think I could walk into either without having a complete melt down. It felt wrong to feel disconnected to my home, but I never wanted to go there again. It was tainted. Again emptiness threatened to engulf me.

“You can't hide here forever,” he said, reading my thoughts once again.

I sighed feeling close to tears. I wanted to hide here forever. It was so much easier than dealing with the world. It was easy to forget about everyone and everything else when I was with Holden. We seemed to exist in our own little bubble when we were together where nothing could hurt us.

“I'd go for you, but you’ll have to go back eventually—and the longer you wait the harder it'll be. Ultimately, though, it'll be up to you when we get there.” His hand moved towards me, but he stopped and put it in the pocket of his jeans. “But you have to go back out into the world, no choice in that.”

I agreed. I wasn't certain that there was anything he couldn’t talk me into doing. Despite my sadness, I was thankful to have him around. I hardly knew him, but he was the only thing keeping me from falling back into bed and never getting out.

“Just out of curiosity, whose clothes am I wearing?” I looked down at the expensive designer jeans that fit like a glove, tight white tank top and the tan Armani trench coat still on the bed. Whoever wore these before me had excellent taste. The fact that I had to ask that question was a warning that I was rushing much too fast into something I couldn't even begin to label. I didn't know how I would react if he had given me someone else's clothing, but I found myself holding my breath as I waited for his answer.

“Yours.” Before I could argue that they were certainly not my clothes, he continued, “I bought them for you so you would have something to change into when you decided to start moving again—and you'll be happy to know, I also bought glasses and food just in case you should ever be hungry or thirsty again.”

It felt so wrong to think back on that day and remember how happy I was, only to have it all taken away. “Maybe later.”

The sun was so bright I had to shade my eyes. Holden handed me a pair of his sunglasses. The heat felt foreign, and I missed the comfort of the cave like atmosphere of his apartment. I hadn't noticed the lack of natural light in his house before now. Everything outside seemed harsh and cruel, not like the soft lights and warm tones inside his home. I followed him to my car and placed myself in the passenger seat. I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes against the harshness of reality. “Are you feeling all right?” he asked as he started the car.

“It's just too bright.”

“Hmph,” he responded, but didn’t ask any further questions. The gentle hum and vibration of the car as it moved through traffic was calming. Slowly, I reopened my eyes to the world. It seemed less offensive now, though nothing had changed. I watched the cars driving by and the life carrying on without me. All of these people who didn't know, who didn't understand that the world was a worse place now than it had been a week ago. They drove on and talked on their phones and ate their lunches, not fathoming that we had all lost something. 

Holden ran into the police station and picked up the letter while I waited in the car. The fresh air and sunshine he forced on me seemed to be doing the trick; I was slowly coming back to life. I watched him come out of the police station looking more like he was on television then running mundane errands with me. I’d never seen him in the direct sunlight until now. It made the freckles across his nose stand out—the little blemishes only enhancing his appeal, though he was frowning and his jaw was set in a hard line. He hopped back into the car and drove the familiar path back to my apartment. Panic inched in, seizing my heart which was pounding in my chest. Outside the building, my eyes immediately filled with tears as I thought about the thousands of time Juliet and I had walked through those doors. This emotional bout was more silent and dignified than the other times over the last few days, but still left me hollow and empty.

“Not yet?” He asked, studying me for a moment. “Okay. I'll go. What do you want?”

I handed him the key and wiped my face. “My camera.”

He smiled. “What to
wear
?”

“I don't care.” I couldn’t understand how he could think that mattered now. It was all so trivial.

After he left, I picked up the letter on the dashboard. I wanted the letter, but at the same time I didn't want to read it. Not yet, everything was still too raw. I slipped it into my purse. I would do it later, not now. I needed more time, just a little more time. Holden was gone for less than ten minutes. He came back with a large suitcase, which he tossed easily in the backseat.

“So now what? Do you want to go anywhere, do anything?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Holden’s eye ticked, but his expression didn’t change. “We can go for a walk.”

I let him get me out of the car. We’d already started walking when Holden remembered he’d forgotten something. He ran back to the car, and I waited. It was a pretty bright sunny day. It seemed like it should be raining. I caught my reflection in a window; I looked bad. Large black bags under my blood shot eyes were barely concealed by the sunglasses. I hadn’t brushed my hair after my shower. What on earth was I doing walking around? Holden was back in a second and caught me trying to smooth the mess of tangles into a pony tail. He handed my camera to me.

“I thought you might want to take some pictures.”

“Thank you.” I took my camera. Its weight was heavy in my weak hands, but it relaxed me. It was such a piece of who I was, an extension of me. It made me forget my grief for the moment, awakening something deep inside that still saw the world through rose colored glasses. Holden couldn't have brought me anything more perfect or distracting at this moment.

I discovered one of my favorite things about Holden was how easy it was just to be with him without talking. I didn’t feel pressured to constantly have to think of something to say. I didn't have to be anything with him. He didn't try to force me to be his idea of me. Nor did he seem to be constantly thinking of something to say to me. I was able to watch and observe the world around me while he watched and observed me. There was no discomfort, no expectations, just acceptance. It was surprising how well he already seemed to know me. How attuned he was to my moods and gestures. He already understood when not to talk, when to listen, when to make me laugh, and how to distract me even when I didn’t know how to distract myself.

I lost myself in my imagination and the morning flew by. I tried to sneak a couple pictures of Holden throughout the day when he wasn’t watching, but he seemed uncomfortable in each of them, almost like he was in pain, until he noticed me watching him. It was hard to tell because his sunglasses never left his face, but his shoulders were rigid and spine erect. Eventually he touched my elbow, “It's time to go.”

“Why?” I wasn’t ready to leave yet; I’d just started to get into a good rhythm.

“You have to get ready for tonight.”

Everything flooded back. Everything I had escaped from for a few glorious hours of normality. “Right.” I couldn’t suppress the sigh.