Page 31 of Holding On

For someone who was nervous just ten minutes ago, she seems pretty coolheaded while taking in all this information.

“Yeah. He is. But his dad’s a fucker too.”

She’s so close, I can smell her perfume. Light musk and jasmine. The burning in my groin is almost painful.

“Judge Barr was the DUI,” I say and take a long pull on my beer. A knot forms in the back of my throat, and I’m hoping the beer will shove it down. I haven’t been this worked up over Barr in a really long time. Maybe it’s the fact Maya’s here, that somehow her living here makes her vulnerable . . . to what? I shake myself. Get a grip.

“I know who he is. Audrey told me,” she says, and then she leans her head against my shoulder for a moment. Just that small weight on my arm makes me hold my breath again. When she raises her face to mine, she’s just inches from me, and so close I could kiss her. Then she pulls back. “I’m so relieved you told me, because I didn’t know how I was going to tell you.” She swallows and I watch her throat.

“Tell me what?” The churn in my abdomen leaves me no choice but to slide closer to the bar.

“You know. That I’ll see him.” Slowly, she slides off the barstool as the boat rocks slightly in its moorings. “I could get used to this. I kind of like the idea of being rocked to sleep every night. Jack—Detective Carlson—said it’s like being sung to sleep.” She tips her head back and drains the rest of the beer.

“Look at you,” I say.

“You should see me shotgun a White Claw.” She grins and then takes a step backward just as the boat lurches.

Instinctively, I half stand and grab her arm to keep her from tumbling sideways. Though thin, I can feel the strength in her bicep and how soft her skin is. I take the bottle from her with my other hand, and we stand like this for half a second.

My prick is so fucking hard.

I drop her arm and look at my watch. “It’s a quarter to eight. I have to go”—I jut a thumb at the shoreline—“read to Cory. But you’re coming out for dinner tomorrow, right?” I try to stop the burning under my skin by thinking of anything but her.

It’s almost impossible.

“Sounds good. I’lI catch you up.”

I start to leave and have one hand on the railing before I stop. “I do remember something.”

“What?”

“I don’t think it’s much, but Devon and Claire went to the crash site afterward. Like a week or ten days after.”

She’s shaking her head. “You don’t need to talk about this. It’s fine.”

“Laurel and I stayed home. I don’t know what Geo was doing, but they took their bikes, and they were gone a long time. They never talked about it afterward, and I don’t know if they found anything. When I tried to ask them, Claire started crying.” I sigh and it sounds shaky.

I half expect her to come over and touch me. If she does, I’ll kiss her. I make that promise with myself in a moment of complete lucidity.

I wait a beat, but she doesn’t.

I turn to go and don’t glance back. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll embarrass myself by throwing myself at her, and the rejection would hurt too much. Instead, I keep one foot in front of the other and climb the stairs to the dock and walk down its length until I reach the shore.

I do turn around when I know she can’t see me anymore. The night sky is black, and little rectangles of light fall across the dock from the boat. She can’t see me, but I get a full shot of her, a second beer in hand, writing something on a legal pad.

Then an idea I don’t want to have festers in my mind. Maybe she moved away from The Inn because of me. Maybe I’m the reason she’s renting this place. Maybe I gave off some weird vibe, and she’s getting the hell away because—

Her phone rings and she picks it up. She’s already seeing someone.

It’s like a second gut punch.

I can’t believe how much the thought affects me.

I take one last glance back at the barge rocking slightly in its slip. She’s on the phone, on Bluetooth, one hand against her forehead, pacing. She’s gesturing with the other. Who the hell is she talking to?

Her boyfriend?

I turned down a soccer scholarship after ranking third in the state in high school. I have a photographic memory. I can name prime numbers into forever. My problem is that I was raised by four strong, smart, incredible women and felt like I was betraying them every time I kissed a girl.

The truth is, I’ve never slept with anyone.