Page 98 of Stroked Hard
“Mom got a two-piece.”
“What?” The feeling of my eyes popping out of my head is real. “What do you mean she got a two-piece. Like, shorts and a full bathing suit?”
“No, like a bikini bottom and a bikini top. And to top it off . . . she got Dad a banana hammock.”
“You’re a fucking liar.”
Laughing, she shakes her head as we make it to my car. As I help her get in she says, “I wish I was. She sent me a picture. Dad’s suit literally has a banana on the crotch . . . lying in a hammock. She said they wanted to experience Brazil the right way.”
“By horrifying people?” I ask. I fold up her chair and put it in my trunk before getting in the driver’s side.
“Mom asked if I wanted to get a matching suit. I told her I would rather hang out with the trash pandas lounging on their property, picking through last night’s leftovers.”
“That’s a little rough, but understandable. No one wants to wear matching swimsuits with their mom.”
“Not even a little. Hey, did you catchRollin’ in the Bacon?”
Christ, my sister and her stupid obsession with this show. “No, when are you going to realize I don’t watch it? You have so much more class than to sit down and watch that shit, sis.”
“I can’t look away. It’s a train wreck. They are only reruns, but I still watch them. Will you watch it when Reese is on?”
Hmm, I never thought about it. A part of me would rather spend the night walking up and down the diving platform stairs than listen to Bellini-the-twit drone on and on about her woes, but another part of me wants to watch just to be able to make fun of Reese. I would bet my left nut there is some incriminating material of him for me to capitalize on. Still, I would have to sit through Bellini to get through it.
“Probably not. Bellini is too much for me.”
“She’s not for everyone.” Isn’t that the fucking truth? “Speaking of Bellini, am I ever going to meet this Melony girl you ditched me for?”
“Yeah about that.” I cringe. More than anything I want Melony to meet Holly. I think they would really get along. Plus Holly is my fucking world and I want my two worlds to collide, but not in an explosive, destructive kind of way. “Not sure when that will happen.”
Looking out the window, I can see Holly nod her head from the corner of my eye. She’s silent for a passing moment before saying, “Are you ashamed of me?”What the fuck?
I nearly drive off the road. “What? Are you insane? Why the hell would I be ashamed of you?”
“Before the accident, you would have introduced me to your girlfriends, but now I’m in a wheelchair—”
“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence,” I say firmly. “It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.”
“How so? You don’t even talk to me about your girlfriends anymore. Before I became your coach, you barely talked to me about diving. So what the hell is it, Hollis? Do you feel sorry for me? Is that it? And you don’t want other people to feel sorry for me as well? Because that’s not how I’m living my life, looking for pity from others.”
“I never said that.” I feel panic creep over me. This is not a conversation I want to have with Holly right before I leave for training camp.
Are you ashamed of me?
Fuck, I’m ashamed of myself. I was the one driving, the one who foolishly looked at his phone, the one who ran into a tree, the one who ended my sister’s career.
I’m. So. Fucking. Ashamed.
“Then what is it, Hollis?”
The drive to her place is faster than expected, and I’m pulling into her parking lot when she turns to me looking for answers. Knowing she won’t even consider getting out of my car without an explanation, I capitulate.
I lean back in my chair and run my hands over my face. Fuck, I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.
“I’m not ashamed of you, Holly. Shit, I’m so damn proud of you and the way you’ve risen from the fallIcaused for you. I’m . . . ashamed of myself. I feel so guilty for the loss I’ve caused you, it’s tearing me up inside. It’s not that I don’t want Melony to meet you, it’s that I don’t want her to know the kind of monster I am.”
A gentle touch grips my forearm, pulling my hand away from yanking on my hair. Holly nudges me to look at her. Like a dickhead, I have tears in my eyes. So much regret sits on my shoulders, weighs heavily on my chest, it’s fucking crippling at times.
“You’re not a monster, Hollis. You made a mistake.”
