The Relationship Pact(53)

Sitting on the couch, I tuck my legs under me. It’s quite a revelation to feel this … free. Yet, at the same time, I’ve been spending time with Hollis. Sure, we’re just friends, and this is nothing serious, but is spending time with a man supposed to be this easy?

It is when it’s just a means to an end.

And the end is here.

I rest my cup on my knee as another realization hits me: our pact is over.

I helped him through dinner, and he made a show for my mom—an amazing one at that.

“Why can’t real relationships be this easy?” I wonder aloud.

They never are. They’re always filled with stress and compromise to the point when no one gets anything remotely like what they wanted in the first place. Once you attach yourself to someone else, their burdens somehow become yours.

“That’s why they can’t be easy. They’re real-world. This thing with Hollis was just pretend.” I smile. “It was fun.”

I lean against the cushions and sigh a slow, steady breath. I’ve been looking forward to seeing him. The last couple of days came out of nowhere but have made me laugh and smile more than I have in a long damn time.

The bottom of my cup warms my leg a little too much, so I pick it up, taking a long sip and feeling the warmth fill my stomach.

“I need to find a guy like Hollis,” I say. “Which is weird because he’s totally my type but totally … not.”

He’s totally my type. From the broad shoulders to the way he makes my name sound seductive, Hollis Hudson is the kind of guy I hope to find one day. It’s just perplexing that he also has all the qualities of the group of men who never fail to let me down.

I know, down deep, that you can’t lump people together like that. I told Hollis that. But he’s so different from the men I usually date that it’s hard to fathom what it is about him that makes me feel totally different when we’re together.

Because there is something about him that wasn’t my type in the most wonderful way. Something that makes me feel confident and fun. Beautiful. I don’t feel crazy for wanting to talk or to have goals of my own.

Just as long as I don’t ask questions.

My amusement fades as I realize why he doesn’t like to be prompted. He has many ghosts that I think he’s ashamed of.

My bracelets dangle on my wrist. I set my cup down. Working carefully with the delicate clasp, I unfasten Siggy’s gift. It was so thoughtful, and it’s something I’d pick out for myself, but the one still wrapped around my arm is more special.

I hold it in the air and watch the little succulent sparkle in the light.

You said you liked rose gold jewelry. And you’re going to school for something in landscape.

He listens. He listens to me.

Is that what’s different?

“You’re something else, Hollis,” I say to an empty room.

I pick up my cup, and I take another drink.

Thank God he’s leaving, or else I might be in some trouble.

But as the coffee splashes down my throat, I have to wonder—am I in trouble already?





Hollis

Sunlight bounces off the Savannah River. The water is dark and kind of moody as I watch it from a little sitting area I found. It’s not far from Judy’s—my original destination. But the sign on the door said she was closed today, so I walked on by until I found this place.

My brain has been on overdrive. Telling Larissa about my mom and Harlee, and Philip and Kim, put me into a weird frame of mind.

I lay beside Larissa as she slept. Memories I didn’t know I still had came back to me in the dead of night. I remembered Harlee screaming and trying to feed her a package of broken crackers I found in the cupboard. I recalled how our house always smelled like bleach. I heard my mom’s voice, something I knew I remembered but intentionally blocked out, sing “When You Wish Upon A Star” while her voice broke and tears streamed down her cheeks.

My stomach knots as I remember it all again, and I wish so fucking much that things had been different.

But they weren’t. All that shit—that fucked-up crap of a hand that I was dealt the day I was born—it’s all a part of my makeup. It’s ingrained into the fiber of my being.

I’ll never escape it.

It’s no wonder everyone walks away from me eventually. I’m poison.

“Don’t you worry, Hollie Boy. I will always stay by your side, even when I’m so drunk and high that I can’t feel my face. Mommy loves you. You’re my person forever, Hollie. Forever.”

I take out my phone and find River’s number. He answers on the third ring.

“Hollis,” he says, relief evident in his tone. “What’s happening, buddy?”

“Do you know what I’m doing?”

“No, or else I wouldn’t have asked.”

I chuckle. “I’m looking at a fucking river.”

“Is this some joke about my name because I’ve heard them all.”

“I bet you have.”

I run a hand down the side of my face. The stress in my back from sitting up most of the night eases just a bit.

“How’s your mom?” I ask him.

A door squeaks in the background and then what I think are footsteps tap down a flight of stairs. Finally, he sighs. The sound is heavy and tired, and I know he’s struggling.