Dare Me(41)

“Ev?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for always taking care of me.”

She sets the blanket on the back of the couch but doesn’t say anything. “Night, Saige.”

“Night.”





Holt

I take the stairs two at a time. Someone is frantically ringing the doorbell and knocking rapid-fire on my front door.

“Coming,” I yell. Before I open the door, I look through the peephole and see Evelyn on my front porch. I pull the door open quickly, and she takes a step back. “Evelyn?” I’m surprised to see her on my front step.

She wrings her hands together nervously and releases a deep breath. “Hi, Holt. I’m really sorry for this, but do you have just a few minutes to talk?”

“Of course, is everything okay with Saige?” I step back and hold the door as she steps into my house, my heart still racing from the surprise of someone at my door, but now because I’m worried something is wrong with Saige.

“That’s a loaded question,” she mumbles. “And holy shit . . . this house, Holt.” She looks impressed, briefly sidetracked.

“Thanks?” I mutter, closing the door. Evelyn stands with her head dropped back, staring up at the coffered ceilings. “Let’s go in the sitting room,” I offer and lead the way. She drops her purse on a small loveseat and sits. I sit opposite her on another loveseat. She sighs and looks at me.

“Tell me what you know about Saige,” she says, maintaining eye contact with me. She’s a straight shooter and doesn’t dance around subjects. I appreciate this about her.

“First, just tell me everything is okay, please?” I rub my hand over my tired face.

“She’s fine,” she exhales loudly.

“Good. So what do I know about Saige?” I start. “I know that she works for me.” I tilt my head to the side and look at her coyly, wondering what she’s fishing for. “I know that I’m really enjoying spending time with her.” I narrow my eyes slightly to see if I’m heading in the direction she wants me to go.

“Holt, what has she told you about herself?” She wrings her hands together in her lap.

“Well, we played Twenty Questions—”

Her face twists in a combination of frustration and confusion. “Jesus Christ! I don’t care about twenty questions. I don’t care if she told you her favorite color was blue. Personally, Holt, what has she told you about her personally?”

“Blue is personal, Evelyn.” I smirk.

She purses her lips and glares at me. “I’m not here to entertain you or to listen to your jokes. I’m here because Saige is hurting—really, really hurting—and she pushes people away when she’s hurting. And except for right now, I like you, so I’m trying to help her so she doesn’t screw up whatever it is that’s happening between you two. Because for the first time in a very, very long time, I’ve seen a glimpse of happiness in her—and I know it’s because of you.” She exhales sharply.

I sigh. It feels good to know I’m making Saige happy, because she’s damn near impossible to read. And I love that my being in her life is changing her, possibly, but the idea of her hurting kills me . . . I prop my elbows on my knees, my face serious. “I’m not trying to be funny. I honestly don’t know what to do. I care about her . . . in fact, I more than care about her,” I pause at that revelation, “but she really knows how to push me away—so you know what I’m left with? Nothing but questions.” I sigh and rub my temples.

Evelyn jumps right back in where she left off, and I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I listen to her. “I’m almost positive she won’t tell you what’s going on, and she’s going to keep pushing you away, and then she’s going to slip further.”

“Slip further? “ I question. “Tell me what’s going on, Evelyn.”

Her eyes are sympathetic, and she lowers her voice as if she’s telling me a secret. “Her father died when she was thirteen.”

I nod my head. “Yeah, she told me this.”

“He killed himself.” She didn’t tell me that, but I knew from the news articles and research that I have. I swallow hard and take a deep breath. She adds gravely, “She was there when it happened, Holt.”

I feel the blood rush from my head. This part I didn’t know. “What do you mean?”

Evelyn looks pained as she starts. “It was her thirteenth birthday. He killed himself in the barn on their property. She heard the gunshot and found him on the floor of the barn. She saw everything. She was there when he stopped breathing. He was everything to her. Everything . . . and she watched him die.”

I inhale sharply and my stomach drops.

Evelyn finishes, “She’s afraid to love anyone or anything because she’s afraid of losing them, like her father.”

“Back up,” I demand. “She told you all this?”

Evelyn makes a slightly offended face. “I’m her best friend. I’m the only person that knows about this other than her family and her therapist back in North Dakota.” She pauses a moment and sighs. “She’s struggling, Holt. It’s almost the anniversary of his death. She’s in a new city. She hasn’t been talking to a therapist since she moved here, and she’s starting to crumble.”