Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(5)
Polly’s eyes widened. “Oh god, are they rough.” Her sister proceeded to ramble on about computer science and coding languages and advanced chemistry and all the things that Holly knew absolutely nothing about. She listened to Polly talk, though, because she just loved hearing how passionate her sister was. Polly adored college and learning, and she studied hard to get decent grades. More than anything, Holly was just glad that her sister was going to be a success. One of them should be, at least.
The dog crawled into Holly’s lap as her sister talked about how frustrating one of her professors was and how she’d been taking extra tutoring just to pass the class, and how much time the tutoring ate up. “Which reminds me,” Polly said. “My card is empty. Can you put some more funds on it? I had to pay for the tutor and between that and food, I’m dry.” She grimaced. “I hate to ask.”
“No, it’s okay.” Holly was expecting it, even if it meant pinching pennies for a while. “I’ll take my tips to the bank tomorrow and get them transferred over to you. Give me a day.”
“You sure you don’t mind? I know tuition’s coming up soon.”
“All handled,” Holly lied. “Don’t worry about a thing.”
Polly’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t think that I don’t appreciate you, sis. I’m so lucky to have you. Thank you so much. Now that I’m here . . .” Her voice trailed off. “I’m just so . . . I feel like it’s where I’m meant to be.” She put a hand to her chest. “I feel like my whole life is ahead of me now, you know?”
No, Holly really didn’t know. Ever since their parents died when Holly was seventeen and Polly thirteen, she’d put her life on hold to take care of her sister. She’d gotten two jobs to make ends meet, she’d packed lunches and handled parent-teacher meetings and just . . . handled it all, because Polly needed her and they were all each other had left in the world. Sometimes it felt a little unfair, but that was just how things were and she accepted it. “I’m so glad. I love you, too.” She leaned in toward the phone’s camera. “And is it cold there? You’re wearing a scarf!”
“The weather’s actually really nice.” Polly fingered the scarf thoughtfully, a hint of a blush on her cheeks. “The scarf was a gift from Sasha.”
Oooh, Sasha. The chemistry advisor. It wasn’t the first time Polly had mentioned this “Sasha”—and Holly hadn’t asked if Sasha was a man or a woman. Didn’t matter. Sasha made Polly light up, and that was all that was important as far as Holly was concerned. “So am I going to get to meet Sasha when you come home for the holidays? I’m sure we can squeeze another on the couch.”
Polly bit her lip and got quiet. “Actually, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about today.”
Oh no. A sinking feeling swept over her. Holly kept her voice light, though. She didn’t want Polly to feel bad. “Oh?”
“Yeah. There’s a two-week informal prep course that starts over the holidays. I think it started as just a lot of students getting together when they couldn’t go home and just tutoring one another. It’s supposed to be really beneficial and . . .” She chewed on her nail, clearly not wanting to spit the words out. “And since Christmas is just you and me, I thought maybe I’d stay up here and give the prep course a go. I could really use the extra study time. Next semester I’m going to try and take advanced physics, you know, and it’s going to be really tricky and—”
Holly just smiled, even though her heart was breaking inside. “Don’t worry about it at all, Polly. Really. If you think this will help you with your grades, then go for it. Heck, even if it doesn’t, you’ll get the chance to make some new friends, right?”
Polly gave her sister a shy look. “That’s right. It’s just so nice to be able to really talk to people, Hol. To rattle on and on about the things that interest me and no one’s going to judge or look at me like I’m boring them.”
Holly’s heart broke for her sister all over again. Painted Barrel had been rough on a brilliant, shy kid who dreamed of private schools where they taught organic chemistry and higher-end math skills. Painted Barrel was lovely and sweet, but it was a very tiny town and the school’s curriculum was very basic. The kids that had gone to school with her brilliant Polly had been more interested in football and school dances and flirting than calculus or STEM. Holly couldn’t fault them, either—her favorite class back when she was at school was English, and that was because her teacher would fall asleep at her desk and the kids would pass notes all class long. She’d never been much of a learner, but she knew Polly had felt stifled. “You should absolutely do the prep course. Is it . . . extra? Moneywise?” Not that she had extra, but she’d scrape it together somehow. She’d ask Wade if she could take on more shifts. She’d hit up all the bakeries and doughnut shops within an hour’s radius and ask if they needed help over the holidays. She could sell fruitcakes on Etsy.
She’d figure something out.
“It’s not really extra, but I might need a little cash if everyone goes out to eat.” Polly bit her lip. “I order cheap, but I still like to go.”
“Of course you should go,” Holly promised. She knew what it was like to see everyone going off and having a good time without you. “I’ll send a little more this time, and you can always just tell me if you need more.”