“I just don’t know what to think, Holden,” I reply, wishing, praying, crying inside for this to be easier. For this to be simple. But it’s not.
“Hendricks! Are you going to drive this thing or what?” I look over Holden’s shoulder, back to the motel driveway where the drug dealer guy is standing beside Holden’s truck. “And can I hitch a ride? I have some deliveries to make and my car won’t start.”
Holden doesn’t acknowledge him. His silvery eyes stay laser focused on me so there’s no way he misses the look of disappointment on my face. Our eyes lock. “I’m so fucking sick of trying.”
He starts to stalk away.
“Holden, wait! Talk to me!”
He stops and turns back to face me. “No. Coming back to this place was a mistake. I’m done. I’m finishing your cottage and I’m moving back to Boston. Or somewhere else. Somewhere people don’t know about my past so I don’t have to fucking waste my time trying to convince people I’ve changed.”
I watch him stalk across the street, get into his truck and drive away, the tires peeling, going in the opposite direction of the cottage until my tears blur my vision.
20
Holden
I am my own worst enemy. Always have been and apparently always will be. I could have just told her everything—where I was going, why I was going, who I was seeing—all of it. But I didn’t and when she seemed suspicious, I got angry instead of honest. It’s just the easier response to me. Anger is like an old comfortable sweater that only later on I realize is made of barbed wire and leaves me with more scars than I can heal. Deep metaphor I can take no credit for. Some therapist I was mandated to see once a week when I was in juvie spewed that line out once and, as much as I hate to admit it, it stuck with me all these years.
And that anger fueled more bad decisions than just pushing Winnie away. After I left her I went to the Brunswick and drank until they cut me off and then, unable to drive, I started the stumble home. Somehow, I wandered into the twenty-four-hour 7-Eleven and bought a six-pack and took it to the beach and now here I am—facedown in the beach dunes with the boot of a police office nudging me awake.
I roll over and stare up at him. I’m freezing cold, my skin and clothes are damp and I have one behemoth of a hangover in full effect. “Get the fuck up, you hobo.”
I can’t. I just can’t go to jail. I’ve had a perfect record my entire adult life and I’ve blown it. Maybe Winnie, Bradie, and everyone else are right and I haven’t changed at all. Fuck.
“Officer, I am so sorry,” I start but he doesn’t want to hear it.
“Stand up, slowly, hands behind your head.”
I do as I’m told, the pounding in my head getting worse with every second. I close my eyes while he pats me down for weapons. He pulls my wallet out of my back pocket and the necklace out of my front pocket. “You know it’s illegal to sleep on the beach and it’s illegal to drink alcohol on the beach? And since I bet you don’t wear a pearl necklace while you get drunk on the beach should I even ask if this is stolen property or should I just assume it is?”
“No sir, it’s not stolen. I mean it was, but it’s not now.” He opens his mouth to say something more, but I keep rambling as his hand is moving toward his handcuffs. “I am so very sorry. I have no excuse for the drinking and passing out except that I had a really horrendous night. I’ve had a really horrendous life actually if I want to feel sorry for myself, but I don’t. It’s not an excuse. I fucked…I messed up, but that necklace is being returned to the owner. That’s why I have it. I wasn’t stealing it. I never stole it to begin with I just—”
“Holden? Hendricks?” the officer says and his tone is no longer authoritative. Now it’s surprised. “Shit. Is that actually you?”
“Yes, sir.”
He smiles. “Joel Moore. I played hockey with you. Went to school with you too until you were arrested.”
“Right! Joel!” I remember him now. He was two inches shorter and twenty pounds lighter and had way more hair when I knew him, but I remember him. I think we were actually friends. I mean, I don’t think I ever punched him. “How are you?”
“Better than you, I guess,” he jokes. Now he’s joking, which even with my pounding headache and the shivers I have from my dew-soaked clothes, I realize is a good sign. Still, I keep my hands behind my head until he holds out his to me. “Relax. Shake my hand, buddy.”
I do and smile back at him. “I really am sorry, and I swear I didn’t steal that necklace.” I pause, scrambling to figure out how to word this without lying. “I found it and I know who it belongs to and I was going to return it.”
Not a total lie but an easier explanation for a police officer—friend or not—than saying it was the necklace my buddy stole, which I was blamed for when we were kids. I tracked it down from a stripper with the help of a drug dealer so I could return it and finally make the owner forgive me so her friend will let herself love me. Jesus, that sounds crazy.
“Listen, buddy, I won’t arrest you,” he says and glances around to make sure the beach is deserted. “But you can’t do shit like this anymore. I mean when kids do it, we give them a warning, but adults…usually that’s at least one night in jail.”
I nod gratefully. “Yeah, I know. It’s just…girl trouble. But I won’t let it happen again. I promise. Thanks, Joel.”
“Girl trouble,” he rolls his eyes. “Twice divorced, so I feel you.”
I nod again, poor bastard. He claps a hand on my shoulder. “So what are you up to these days? Hopefully more than this.”
He hands me back the necklace and my wallet and I put them in my pockets and bend and collect the empty beer cans at our feet. “Things are going okay actually. I have my own renovations business. Working on the Braddock cottage right now.”
“Really? That’s great,” Joel says as I walk toward the garbage can by the boardwalk and he follows. “I’m thinking about redoing my apartment. Make it more of a bachelor pad since the last wife moved out and I’m never marrying again. Maybe you can swing by and give me a quote for it.”
“Sure. Would love to,” I say because at this point, if he’s not going to arrest me or even give me a ticket, I would do his renos for free.
“Do you have a business card or a website or something?” he asks as we both make our way down the boardwalk.
“Not yet. Working on that.” Instead, I offer him my phone number, which he punches into his cell and says he’ll give me a call.
“No more of this shit okay?” Joel cautions.
“Yeah, no worries there,” I reply, and he nods and heads back to his cruiser just a few yards away. I watch him drive off and tip my head to the sky and thank whatever is looking out for me. Then I make my way back to the cottage.
I don’t know how to fix this thing with Winnie, but I know I have to, because despite what I said, I’m not leaving Maine and I don’t want this thing between us to end. Life without her wouldn’t be easier or better. Life with her is what I want and I deserve to get what I want.
The street is eerily quiet and the trailer and cottage unsettlingly still as I approach. I stare up at the cottage for a long time, but I decide I need to be more presentable before I go in there and try to save this. And maybe I can dig up some Advil for this damn hangover. I open the door to the trailer and stop in my tracks. Winnie is asleep, curled up in the middle of my bed. And instead of wearing one of her dad’s sweaters, she’s wearing a hoodie of mine. She must have been waiting for me all night. I walk to the foot of the bed. She’s dead asleep, snoring lightly, which makes me smile. She’s on top of all the blankets and her bare legs are covered in gooseflesh. I notice there’s no wineglass or open wine bottle in the trailer. She didn’t try to drink her way out of the pain of our fight. That makes me very happy—and relieved. I walk to the small cabinet where I keep extra blankets and grab a throw. As I get ready to place it over her, I notice the paper with the crisp handwriting on it.
I can’t help but read the first
line. It says My sweet Winona Skye and I know it’s the letter her dad wrote her before he died. I reach for it, so I can move it out of the way and make sure it doesn’t get crumpled. As I place it on the small night table, she wakes up.
“You’re home,” she whispers and starts to sit up.
“Keep sleeping,” I say softly and cover her with the blanket. “I have to shower anyway.”
“We should talk.”
“We should,” I agree and tuck the blanket around her. “And we will. I promise.”
She yawns and her eyes flutter closed but not before she sighs, “I don’t want you to go away.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I promise her and I mean it. I slip into the bathroom and clean up. In the shower, I realize I don’t just have a pounding headache, I have a scratchy throat too. That’s never been part of a hangover before. This aging thing sucks. I’m having a hard time accepting the fact that I can’t just curl up beside her and sleep this off, but I can’t. The house still needs work and if I skip a day I’m likely to miss my deadline. Jude might not mind if it takes me a little extra time, but I’ll mind. That’s not how I want the first job of my new company to go. Plus, I have a roofing job lined up after this and it has to be completed before the first frost.
When I step out of the bathroom, wrapped in only a towel, she wakes up again. She silently watches me as I dress, sleepy-eyed, still curled up on my bed. As I’m pulling my T-shirt over my head she sits up. I walk over to the bed and sit on the edge. “Were you waiting in here for me all night?”
She nods. “I wasn’t going to let it end like that.” Winnie sits up a little straighter. “I wasn’t going to let things end at all.”
I reach for her. We hold each other for a long time. Finally I say, “I was trying to find Cat’s grandmother’s necklace. The one I was accused of stealing back when we were kids.”
She pulls her head off my shoulder to look in my eyes. “What?”
“Cat hates me because I stole her grandmother’s necklace, and a bunch of other shit, when she had that party at her house when we were sixteen,” I say and stand up to retrieve the necklace. “Only I didn’t steal anything. Kidd did. I knew he did and didn’t do shit about it and I was caught with him when he was trying to sell some of the stuff so I was still guilty. But I took the complete fall because Kidd had spent the summer before in juvie and he was scared he’d be tried as an adult or get a harsher sentence. Also, his father had already caught him stealing from one of the plumbing jobs they’d done and nearly beat him within an inch of his life. And honestly, I just didn’t give a fuck what happened to me.”
“Jesus, Holden.” Winnie winces at my words. “You went to juvie for him? It ruined your chance at a hockey career?”
“Yeah.” I try not to let the dark, cold regret fill my chest like it usually does when I think about that. “I would have found another way to fuck it up, trust me. I was hell-bent on ruining my life. So in a way, it’s probably a blessing I did it because it straightened me out.”
I pause and pull the necklace from the jeans I left on the floor before my shower and carry it over to her. I lay it on the bed between us as I sit back down. “I remembered that this necklace wasn’t one of the ones we tried to sell at the pawnshop. This one Kidd gave to some girl he was dating. Kevin’s cousin’s friend. So I had Kevin track her down and that’s who you saw me meeting last night.”
“She still had it?”
“Yeah. I guess it was sentimental or something and she made me pay her a hundred bucks for it.” I roll my eyes. “But she gave it back. And then she chased me out to the parking lot and propositioned me. But that was it. Nothing more.”
“I know. I believe you,” she says and takes the necklace and runs her fingers along the pearls. “I can’t believe you went through all this and it wasn’t even your fault that it was stolen.”
“Cat’s opinion of me matters because she matters to you,” I say quietly. “And you, Winona Skye Braddock, matter so much to me it’s kind of fucking terrifying.”
She looks at me from under those thick ash-blond lashes and gives me the sweetest smile before leaning forward and giving me a gentle kiss. “You matter to me too. But honestly, I’m still a mess.”
“Your dad’s death is going to be hard on you for a long time,” I say as I take her hand in mine. “And honestly, it never fully leaves you. It’s always there, in the back of your chest with the door open, waiting for you to fall back into it. But you’ll be okay and that’s not going to scare me off.”
“It’s not just my dad…,” she admits and there’s an embarrassed look on her face. “I’ve been with one guy my entire adult life and he cheated on me. I can’t help thinking I did something to deserve it. Like I wasn’t enough. And Holden, if I’m not enough for you too…”
“I’m in love with you,” I blurt out and I know it’s early and she may think I’m crazy but it’s also a goddamn fact and if she’s doubting herself at all she needs to know.
“I’m in love with you too, which is why you terrify me too,” she confesses. I wasn’t expecting those words, and it’s like being surprised with a winning lottery ticket or a new car or something you didn’t deserve and were too scared to even hope for.
I grab her face in my hands and kiss her. She crawls right up on me and when the kiss breaks she hugs me and for the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel pure happiness.
And then my phone rings. I glance over at it and see Dave’s number. “I have to get that.”
“Of course,” she says and I stand up and grab my phone.
“Hey Dave,” I say, but I’m not sure he can hear me over his own coughing. Oh fuck. When he finishes coughing he proceeds to tell me he’s too sick to come to the job today. I believe him too. He sounds like shit. But after I tell him to take it easy and feel better and hang up, I see I have a text from Mike who is still sick and won’t be coming in. I start to swear a blue streak.
“What’s wrong?” Winnie asks.
I stand up and run a hand through my still damp hair and then scratch my beard. “My crew is sick. Both of them. So I’m on my own today.”
“I can help,” she volunteers.
I smile. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. It’s just going to be a long day.”
“Holden…”
I cough. I still have a headache too. And I need coffee and something greasy to help absorb this vicious hangover but I don’t have time. Not now that I’m flying solo. I walk back over to the bed, lean down and kiss her. “I have to get started. Your brother is coming this weekend.”
“He is?” She looks dumbfounded.
“Yeah. He hasn’t told you?”
She shakes her head. “I have to call him.”
“When was the last time you talked to him?” I ask.
Her expression grows sheepish. “The day I was supposed to get on the plane back to Toronto.”
I’m stunned. “You didn’t call him when I told you he knew you were here?”
She shakes her head no. “He tried calling me but that’s what voicemail is for.”
“Call him. I’ll see you in a few.” I kiss her again and try to ignore the stress and concentrate on the fact that this beautiful, amazing woman loves me.
21
Winnie
As soon as Holden leaves, I dig my phone out of the pocket of his hoodie that I’m wearing. I find Jude’s number in my phone, under “Putz” and hit dial as I crawl out of bed and move to the kitchen. I open the fridge and try to figure out what I can throw together for Holden for breakfast.
“Hi, Win.”
“Hi yourself. Were you going to tell me you’re coming to visit?”
“Were you going to tell me your banging my contractor?”
“No. It’s none of your business,” I say firmly, trying not to sound shocked that he knows. I’m going to have to murder Sadie or Dixie later, whichever one told him. Maybe killing them both would be easiest. “Why are you coming?”
“Why are you banging the contractor?”
I grit my teeth. He’s in one of those snarky moods that he’s been perfecting since he was a preteen. Back then he used to parrot back everything I said on our twelve-hour drives to Maine from Toronto and it would get me so mad I would scream. If he wants to play, I’ll play to win. “Well, where can I start…he’s built like a tank and hung like a horse.”
“Winnie!”
“Not to mention that scruffy beard and the way it feels between my—”
“Why are you turning into Sadie?” he yells in anguish. “Goddamn it. You used to be so…”
“Boring? Lame? Timid?”
“I was going to say dependable, calm, uncomplicated,” Jude says.
“Like a dog you adopt from the ASPCA.” I roll my eyes and pull some eggs from the fridge.
Jude chuckles self-consciously. “Okay, I’m not great with words. You’re the articulate one, not me. But seriously, Win, talk to me. What happened with Ty?”
“It wasn’t working out. I know you know that.” I’m not going to tell him all the dirty details because even though Jude likes to act like his sisters are the bane of his existence, he would make it his life’s mission to destroy anyone who hurt us, or, say, cheated on us. “It should have ended a long time ago and then Dad died and I realized I couldn’t fake it anymore.”
He doesn’t say anything for so long that I say “Hello?’ to make sure our connection didn’t crap out.
“And Holden takes the pain away?” he finally asks, his voice sounds funny—thicker. “Is he a distraction?”
“He’s not a distraction,” I say. “He isn’t taking away the pain. He’s helping me cope with it. Jude, you like him. You wouldn’t have hired him if you didn’t.”
“I do like him. I always have and you always haven’t.” I can hear the smirk in his voice. Jerk.
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