Tracing Holland (NSB Book 2) Read online

  “Just stopping by to see how you’re doing?” I explain, and he shakes his head with a grin.

  “That was fucking genius. Totally messed up, but genius.”

  I laugh and drop to a chair nearby. “You know they wouldn’t have done it if they didn’t consider you friends, right?”

  He nods, still smiling. “I know. They really had us. I think Parker might need therapy.”

  “He looked about ready to shit his pants.”

  “I think he might have a little.”

  I study him and lean forward with a mischievous look. “So what are you doing to get them back?”

  He stares at me and seems confused. “Wait, what?”

  “Seriously?” I scoff. “You’re just going to let them prank you like that and not retaliate?”

  I can tell it hadn’t occurred to them and have to hold in my snicker. I’m here to be helpful. “Ok, look, this is how it works. They started it, so yeah, you have every right to get them back. Just keep it funny and safe.”

  I see his mind already working. “That’s going to be hard to beat,” he observes.

  “Yeah, but trust me, it’ll be worth it when you do.” I start to rise, feeling a small sense of pride that he’s taking it so well.

  “Hey, Luke, wait. Before you go, can I ask you something?” He quiets, and the mood suddenly shifts. “Um, it’s a little personal.”

  I return to my seat. “Sure, what is it?”

  He seems nervous, which is never a good sign. “Well, I’m not exactly sure how to ask you this. It’s about those photos of you from Charlotte.”

  I stiffen. “What about them?” I respond, somehow managing to sound casual even though my insides are exploding.

  “Well, it’s just that, I’m from Philly. You know that, and we’ve played pretty much all the local spots in the tri-state area.”

  I nod, my stomach churning. Oh no. “Yeah?”

  He looks away, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m trying to figure out how you were in Club Castor in Atlantic City when we were parked in Charlotte, North Carolina.”

  He meets my gaze again, and I can tell he’s not coming from a place of hostility. He’s legitimately confused by the photos, by me.

  I take a deep breath. Is this it? Dr. Flynn wanted me to tell the truth to a friend. I never in a million years would have thought Jesse Everett would be my first attempt at honesty, but here it goes. It kind of helps that the lie didn’t work on him.

  “Ok, fine, the truth? It’s because I wasn’t in Club Castor in Atlantic City while we were parked in Charlotte. I was in Club Castor almost two years ago on our Bittersweet tour.”

  I can’t tell if that cleared anything up. He looks just as confused, if not more so.

  “So the pictures are fake?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “No, they’re real. They’re just two years old.”

  “So your phone got hacked?”

  I suck in my breath. Jesse might be a genius. He’s just given me an out for the masses, but that doesn’t help me now. My instinct is to accept the perfect lie, but I manage to catch it on my tongue. Dr. Flynn would kill me if I screwed this up after having it gift-wrapped and handed to me.

  “Well, not exactly,” I begin. “It’s complicated, but basically, I’m the one who leaked them,” I explain, and his face looks about what you’d expect when you politely inform someone you’re a total idiot. As the words slip out, it occurs to me that the lie is way more plausible than the truth.

  “Um…wow. Ok...”

  I sigh. “I know, it’s totally messed up, but you saw the shit they were saying about Callie and I figured if they were talking about me, they’d leave her alone. It was stupid, but it kind of worked.”

  He just stares at me for a moment, eyes wide. “Shit, man. That is totally fucked up.”

  I laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. Don’t ever do something like that. Totally stupid,” I warn. Yes, Jesse, don’t be a complete moron who leaks your own social death sentence. Mentor of the Year right here.

  “Got it. Still, you obviously haven’t told anyone else. They’re all really upset.”

  I look away. “Not yet, but I will. And we’ll tell the rest of the world that my phone got hacked. Thanks for that.”

  He smiles. “No problem. You should probably hurry though because it’s going to come out soon that those pictures aren’t legit. I mean, Club Castor, man? You could have picked a less obvious spot.” He laughs and shakes his head. “It’s almost like you wanted to get caught.”

  I shrug with a sheepish grin. He’s probably right. I wouldn’t put anything past my subconscious at this point. “I was pretty pissed about what was happening to Callie. Wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”

  “Well, I still think that’s totally messed up, but kind of awesome in a way. Thanks for letting me know. I got your back.”

  I start to warm inside a bit. I don’t hear that a lot, but I have to admit it feels good. “Hey, thanks, Jess. And remember to think of a way to return the favor to Eli and Sweeny,” I respond with a smile.

  He grins. “Oh, don’t worry. We got this.”

  ∞∞∞

  I make the difficult phone call to TJ after leaving the Limelight dressing room. The Label needs the truth, well, most of it, and Jesse’s brilliance will give them much-needed direction for their PR spin. They’ll like that part at least.

  I leave Callie and her situation out of the story. I don’t need them resenting her for something stupid I did, something that she’d be just as upset about. TJ is shocked, then furious when I tell him I signed my own death warrant for no apparent reason, but is at least grateful I’m only guilty of being an idiot, not sliding down the cliff again. He agrees the phone-hack defense could work and is going to call the Label next to see what they can do to fix this mess.

  I feel better when I hang up. Maybe the truth is turning out to be an improvement over the lie after all. I glance down at my phone and cringe at the string of texts and missed calls from Callie and Casey. They’ve been trying to get ahold of me for a while now, but I just haven’t been ready to face them. Maybe now I can. They need the truth too, probably more than any of the others, but for some reason I’m finding that hurdle the hardest. It went well with Jesse, ok with TJ, but I’m still not ready. I know I haven’t totally fractured that relationship beyond repair yet, and I’m afraid of messing up what’s left. I’m still skeptical of this honesty thing, transparency. I need to test out the madness on one more person, one more trial in this messed up experiment.

  Time to see what this Truth thing does for the one relationship I’ve totally fucked up.

  ∞∞∞

  I’m pretty sure she won’t see me if I give her a warning, so I decide to surprise her with my unwelcome presence. I have to check several locations and make a few inquiries before finally finding myself standing outside of Holland’s dressing room. I still can’t believe I’m here, and the only thing giving me the courage to knock is the fact that I have nothing left to lose with her.

  She seems irritated when she answers the door, but no longer ready to scratch my eyes out, so I take some solace in that.

  “Luke, hi,” she says, obviously taken aback.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I respond, my stomach suddenly turning painfully at what’s about to happen. I’ve officially punched my ticket into unknown territory, and I’m hit more than ever by the fact that I have no clue how to do this.

  “Um…I guess. Sure, come in.”

  She waves me inside and closes the door. I see her belongings organized in neat piles around the large space, and smile that even her toiletries are confident and put-together. Her dressing room is a museum compared to ours, which is just an explosion of our shit dumped on the floor and tables.

  I blink and take a deep breath, fully aware I’m just distracting myself. “Look, I know I’ve screwed up a lot of things with you. You keep giving me chances and I keep blowing it. I’m not here for another one, I just wan
ted to tell you one thing and then I’m gone. It’s about the pictures.”

  She stiffens and holds up her hand. “Luke, that’s your business. I don’t want to know. What you do, who you party with, has nothing to do with me.”

  I feel every pinch of her statement. I’m not even sure she was trying to cut me, but I realize right then how much it hurts that I’ve lost her. “They were taken at Club Castor in Atlantic City. Two years ago,” I explain quietly.

  She stares at me. I can’t read her face, but I’m not sure I even want to know what she’s thinking right now. The silence is excruciating as her gaze bores into me, and I suddenly can’t stand to be here anymore. I did what I came to do. I never promised I’d stay for the fallout.

  “Anyway, that’s all I came to say. I wanted you to know the truth before it comes out. It will soon,” I mumble and head toward the exit. The door seems so far all of a sudden, the air in the room so thin and stagnant. I try to stay calm as I make my escape, but inside my head is screaming. Laughing at me, cursing. Mocking this embarrassing failure of a mission. I’ve just reached for the handle when she grabs my arm and yanks me around.

  I flinch at the fire blazing in her eyes.

  “Not good enough!” she hisses, shoving me against the door. Her palm is on my chest, almost painful as she stiff-arms me into submission to her wrath.

  “I’m sorry, I just…”

  “Stop! Just…stop! It’s my turn to talk for once!” she cries, and I can only stare, eyes wide, as her long overdue fury explodes on me.

  “Why the hell are you here? You came for what exactly? Huh? To confuse me again with some infuriating glimpse of honesty? To clear your conscience for a second, and then what? What’s next, Luke? I let you back in for five minutes until you get scared again? Push me away and leave that huge gaping hole in your wake? God!”

  She lets go and clasps her hands over her head in distress as she steps back. “I can’t get you out of my head! Do you know what that’s doing to me? I’m a confident woman. I control my life, myself. I set my standards high because I can. Because I know I deserve that!”

  She holds her fist over her heart. “I don’t need a man to complete me, to give me value. I want one, but I don’t need one. Sure, maybe one day I’ll find someone who will fit into the box I created for my life, but it’s a measured choice, nothing more, nothing less.” She stops and meets my gaze, almost angry. “And then you come along.”

  There are tears in her eyes as she stares at me. I can’t move, can’t breathe. “You with your drama and your lies and your fucking eyes that haunt me and threaten everything I thought I understood about what I wanted! You’re every reason I have my rules in place! You’re everything I’ve fought to avoid for my life, every reason I should be running in the opposite direction!”

  She closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath. I can see her visibly soften, change, and it guts me. “But that song, Luke,” she whispers, daring to look at me again. “You put that song in me that day at the snack bar and now I can’t get it out. In that brief moment, you showed me what it’s like to transform from a connection with another person. You’re the very reason I have my rules and yet make me want to break them every second we’re together. I don’t know what to do anymore! I don’t know how to fix it, how to make it stop and put things back to the way they’re supposed to be. I don’t know how to forget the music now that it’s ingrained in my soul!”

  “Holland…”

  “Don’t,” she says, swiping at her eyes with a rough hand. “You were right. We can’t be friends. You should just go. It’s better if you just go.”

  I should, but for one of the first times in my life, I don’t. I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to. Not this time.”

  Her eyes meet mine in shock. The words came out on their own, and I’m just as surprised. But I realize they are Truth. They are more Truth than anything about pictures or haunted pasts or reputations. I don’t want to leave her. That is the truth. I want to be here with her. I want to let this person inside me.

  She’s in my arms before I can say another word, and I pull her tight against my chest. Her own arms constrict around my back as though she’s afraid I’m not real, that I’ll vanish before her eyes if she doesn’t hold on tight enough. I rest my cheek on her hair as we hold on, wondering what this moment means, terrified that we’re officially breaking every rule we’ve separately constructed to protect ourselves from each other. But we don’t belong apart, that much is clear. We may not have a clue about how to be together, but there’s no more denying we can’t seem to separate no matter how hard we try.

  “I’m sorry, Holland. So sorry,” I whisper, and she pulls tighter. “I don’t want to be what I am.”

  “Just let me in, Luke. Please,” she pleads into my shirt. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.”

  I nod, even though I know she can’t see me, and close my eyes. It feels so amazing to be held. To feel the warmth of someone’s body against mine. Not in a gesture of comfort, but in a union. Free of the guilt, the pain, the horror that is usually weighing on my soul when I’m touched. This isn’t comfort, it’s connection.

  My body starts to react to the closeness of hers and it’s everything I can do to control the dizzying rush of blood and longing. The agony is unbearable when she finally pulls back and unveils the same mirrored in her eyes.

  “I’m not sure I’m totally ready to break all my rules yet, but I want more than a hug, Luke. I want free access to you. All of you,” she whispers, and I find her comfort with her honesty so incredibly hot.

  We’re done with words, and my lips find hers in an instinctive crash that sends my brain into oblivion. Her hands slide up my back, curving around my shoulders in a desperate attempt to pull me closer. I can feel her fingertips digging into my muscles, completely claiming me in that moment. It’s not enough, though, and soon we’re backing toward a table in her dressing room. She pushes me against it and I love her confidence. She wants me and has no hesitation in making sure I know it. She grabs the hem of my t-shirt, and I help her yank it over my head. We work together on hers as well, and when it’s our skin making contact this time, the eruptions inside me make it impossible to focus on anything else.

  “You are a work of art, you know that?” she breathes, tracing her fingers along my chest, down my abs.

  I respond by kissing her again, my blood pounding in my veins. I want her, all of her. I want her naked form melted into mine, to fill her completely, to consume her mind, body, and soul. And I want to give her every inch of me that she’s willing to take. God, I want everything, even though I’m still not convinced either of us is ready for that. We instinctively know that, for us, this moment, will come with a commitment both of us still fear from each other.

  And then it hits me. Crashes down in an avalanche that slams into my lungs, and it’s everything I can do to stay standing. There it is in all its vile, eternal glory, the Truth. The rest of it anyway, all the things I haven’t told her but she deserves to know to make this choice. I care about her too much to let her break her rules for a man she doesn’t know.

  “Holland, wait…” I say, pulling away.

  She groans. “Are you serious? Not again!”

  I smile in spite of myself. “No, it’s not that. I want this. I’m not leaving. It’s just, you deserve more than this.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m not exactly the rose petals and candles type. I just want you naked. Why is this so confusing for you?”

  “I know, it’s just…”

  “Seriously, you’re killing me!”

  I laugh and shake my head. “I know. I want that too, believe me, but…” I grow serious. Time for bombshell number two of this encounter. “I haven’t had sex in sixteen months.”

  She stops, her expression changing, and I look away, suddenly embarrassed but not regretting anything. That’s not even in the ballpark of the shit she’s about to get dumped on her.

  She covers
her shock with a dismissive laugh. “Um…ok. Well, I can help you if you’re confused. I’m sure it’s like riding a bike.” She reaches for my jeans, and I catch her wrist, chuckling.

  “No, that’s not what I mean. I’m pretty sure it’ll come back to me. I just meant…” I sigh. “Can we sit?”

  She’s about to protest again, but then seems to sense there’s more standing in our way than a little insecurity. Her mood immediately shifts, and I love her dimensions, how comfortable she is navigating them.

  “Sure.”

  We don’t let go of each other and move to the small couch against the wall. Once we’re seated, she wraps her arm around mine, our fingers laced together. She rests her head on my shoulder, and I close my eyes. I don’t deserve this moment, this woman, but she deserves the truth. The problem is, I don’t really know where to start. It suddenly occurs to me that this story has never actually been written. Not in a cohesive form, not in any kind of meaningful narrative that can explain the Train-Wreck, Gravedigger, Dandelion that is Luke Craven. Even during the good years with Elena we had been more focused on surviving our present than worrying much about our pasts. She had known details, facts, but no one knew the person who lived them. Not really. And now she’s a chapter I’m still trying to survive, one that will never close but will go on forever, even as new ones begin to form.

  Holland squeezes my hand, and I force air into my lungs. She needs to know this story.

  “I was married before,” I begin quietly.

  Holland grips harder, as if sensing I’m approaching the vault. “I know. Elena, right? You still wear the ring.”

  I nod, casting an instinctive glance at my hand. “I’ll take it off eventually. I just…” I can’t finish. The sudden heaviness rises into my throat, cutting me off. I’m horrified at the display until Holland huddles closer, shattering the little hold I have left on my emotions. The tears move to my eyes and I try to blink them away, but they press harder, threatening to expose me and the weakness that will probably always haunt me at some level. I can’t stop thinking about Elena now, which makes me feel like I’m betraying both of these amazing women I don’t deserve. Would she forgive me for this moment? For wanting to explore the depths of another soul? For trying to be the man for Holland that I should have been for her?