She was right. By her third try, Rachael had moved up a chair which put her in the front row. Another challenge in early December earned her another bump up and put her that much closer to front-row in school performances.
The two-week Christmas break was just four days away when Rachael saw Holden again.
That Monday had a biting cold in the air, forcing everyone to bundle up in thick coats, scarves, and gloves. Shawna and Vera were with her just outside the school’s front entrance, rubbing their covered hands and chattering about the upcoming vacation.
“Once I get back from Virginia, we should have a scary movie night,” suggested Shawna with her usual enthusiasm. Tugging her lime green scarf snugger around her neck, she added, “Just us girls, of course.”
Vera seemed doubtful. “Last time we tried a girl’s night at your place, your brothers stuffed ice in my sleeping bag. And laxatives in the ice cream.”
Setting her jaw, Shawna said, “Maybe one of your houses, then. My parents won’t let me lock my door.”
Rachael could sympathize. “I’ll ask,” she offered. “Jackie won’t bother us, but I’m not sure if—”
As she spoke her eyes were roaming to catch sight of her brother. Instead a familiar flash of rust-brown hair caught her attention. Amidst the thrall of students milling away stood Holden. Without wearing much more than jeans and a light brown leather jacket he stood out like a sore, throbbing thumb. When their gazes locked Rachael felt the blood drain from her already frozen cheeks.
He was here. Here, at school, after being away for so long, and the only reason she could think of was that he was going to kill her. His eyes were more blue than green, so intense that even at a distance they took her breath away. The unique, heady sensation of her vision hovering above her head, peering down, drowned out everything else for that moment.
“What’s wrong?”
Shawna’s sharp tone snapped her back into her own body. She shook her head, but when she looked again Holden was walking away.
“I, uh, thought I saw Coleen.” Lying was getting easier, Rachael noticed unhappily. “It wasn’t her.”
Shawna scoffed, but her brown eyes were empathetic. “You gotta stop letting her have so much control over you.”
Wrapping Rachael in a quick, padded hug, Vera agreed. “Yeah. We still got your back.”
Maybe if she could believe her own lie, Rachael could convince herself that Holden, Aaron, and lycans were all just part of a distant yet elaborate dream. She gifted her friends with a reassuring smile. “You’re right.” Hurriedly, she changed the subject back. “If my dad lets us watch the movies in the living room, he might say yes. We’re not allowed anything R-rated, though.”
Shawna’s colorful complaints helped fill the rest of their wait. When Jackson arrived, the three girls said their goodbyes, with Rachael promising to ask her folks about the movie night.
The next Friday, the night before Christmas Eve, Vera came over to spend the night alone. Rachael’s mother was well enough to have dinner with them and was immediately enthralled with Vera’s modesty and sweet mannerisms. For the first time in weeks there was color in her mother’s face. Even Henry seemed taken with Rachael’s newest friend.
While she laid out a sleeping bag on her bedroom floor, Rachael decided to tell her so.
Her friend flushed with pleasure. “I’m glad. Your parents are real nice.”
“Mmhm.”
Atop the bed in her gingham blue pajamas, Vera tied her flowing hair into loose twin braids beside her ears. “You know, you never told me if you talked to Holden about me.”
Choking, Rachael looked up in a mixture of embarrassment and fear. Oh, God, I totally forgot. “I . . . I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
Vera flashed an unusually sly smile. “So you did like him.”
“No!” Her spine as rigid as her voice, Rachael said, “We were just friends.”
“Hmm.” Vera tied off the end of her second braid. “And you really don’t know what happened to him?”
Aside from turning into a werewolf? Nope. Attempting to ignore the snide voice in her head, Rachael chose her words carefully. “I just know we’re not friends anymore.”
Unlike her family, Vera wasn’t satisfied to let that go. She climbed down from the bed to sit next to Rachael. “You never talk about it.”
Too defensively, Rachael pointed out, “You never talk about Kevin.”
One shoulder raised in a shrug, Vera said, “So let’s trade.”
While an enormous portion of Rachael just wanted to let it go, the deal was tempting. Her need to relieve some tension as well as her curiosity won out. “Should I go first?”
Vera shook her head somberly. “It’s okay.” Inhaling sharply, her pretty features wrinkled as though in pain. “I’ve known Kevin since we were kids. Our moms worked together in the same company—still do. So we pretty much grew up together.”
If she hadn’t known the end result, Rachael would have assumed it was the beginning of a sweet romance.
“We started dating in eighth grade,” continued Vera. “And . . . last year he cheated on me.”
Stunned, Rachael blurted, “What? How?” At her friend’s bemused expression, she tried to amend her words. “I mean, how could he? You’re so . . . pretty,” she finished lamely.
That brought a smile to Vera’s eyes. “Thanks. But I don’t know. I don’t even know who. He said he felt so awful he had to tell me, but I couldn’t trust him anymore.” Her face fell. “We both cried. It sucked.”
Rachael didn’t know what to say to that. “At least he felt bad, I guess.” Something else nagged at her, so blunt she almost didn’t say anything. “No offense, but I thought you were a virgin.”
Genuinely happy, Vera chirped, “That’s me. Virgin Vera. But that’s not him, not anymore.”
“I suppose Kinky Kevin has a better ring.”
Laughingly, Vera agreed. “It’s easier to talk about now. Especially with Coleen leaving me alone. Every time I noticed another guy, she’d bring up Kevin.”
Rachael frowned and bit her thumbnail. “I can’t believe you stayed friends with her.”
A soft sigh fell past Vera’s lips. “She wasn’t all bad. After Kevin and I broke up, me and Coleen watched movies and spent all night eating pizza and Oreos and complaining about guys. And she was fun to shop with.”
Unfortunately, Rachael had a much more difficult time picturing a nice Coleen. Even after her plummeting popularity, she remained stubbornly snobby and embittered.
Jabbing her in the side with an elbow, Vera said, “Okay. Your turn.”
Apprehension only made Rachael worry at the nail on her pinky next. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Oh, come on. You promised!” Vera reached up and gently guided her hand away from her teeth. “Start slow.”
Rachael closed her eyes. For the first time in three months, she saw the face she knew of as Holden rather than the terrible melting beast her mind had created. Sadness gripped her heart and bled from her voice as she said, “I just found out he has a . . . a scary side.”
Intrigued, Vera asked, “How scary? Severed feet in the freezer scary or torturing small animals scary?”
The latter was close. “Sort of. He hunts them.”
Vera’s strawberry blonde eyebrows shot up. “Does he have a license?” Supposing turning into a wolf counted, Rachael muttered an affirmative. Frowning, Vera propped her chin on the heel of her hand. Her fingers tapped against her knee in rapid rhythm. “No offense, Rache, but that’s not all that bad. I mean, comparatively.”
Helplessly, Rachael shrugged. What else could she say? Keeping the secret would slowly kill her, but it was better than coming home to a massacred family and a trail of cloves.
Sounding disappointed, Vera said, “I was sure it was way worse. Holden was real torn up about you.”
A jolt of electricity shot to her fingers. “You saw him? He’s still here?” Was he back in school? Is that why she had seen
him that day?
Sheepishly, Vera confessed, “He works at the golf course. I went with my dad a few weeks ago; he’s one of the cart boys now.”
Rachael only had a vague idea what that meant. More importantly, Holden was still in Keeton. He was probably still keeping an eye on her, ready to report to Aaron if she spilled the secret. The thought made her dizzy and frightened and nauseas and . . . sad.
I miss him.
It was stupid, definitely crazy, but true all the same. She missed his dry humor, the way his blue-green eyes sparked a sense of mischief in her chest, even his spontaneous cynicism. For one moment, Rachael desired to see him argue with Aaron or Coleen or somebody and watch his expression darken in frustration. The good and bad of his human side—she wanted to talk with him like she used to.
At Vera’s concerned expression, Rachael voiced a censored version of her thoughts, and then forced a laugh. “How dumb is that? I barely know him.”
Shaking her head vigorously, Vera insisted, “It’s not dumb at all. Sometimes you just click with people like that.” In a concerted effort of cheer, Vera hugged her arm and said, “Like you. I wish I’d been friends with you a long time ago.”
This time Rachael’s smile was effortless. “Me, too.”
“Tell you what, next time I see him, I’ll have him call you.”
Just because she missed Holden didn’t mean the idea was a good one. Rachael chewed on her lip to keep from blurting out her initial terrified reaction. “I don’t know. . . .”
Sadly, Vera said, “It just seems a pity to ruin a good thing over something like a hunting hobby. Does he torment the animals?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Would he hurt them if he wasn’t hunting?”
“Probably not.”
“Would he hurt you?”
Rachael paused before admitting, to Vera as well as herself, “No. I seriously doubt it.”
Satisfied with the answers, Vera raised her hands and concluded, “Then the least you can do is talk to him.”
Not completely convinced, one more question occurred to Rachael. “What did he say about me, anyway?”
An unmistakably dreamy look crossed Vera’s face as she remembered. She probably still likes him, too, Rachael realized. For the first time in weeks she wondered if her friend had an ulterior motive.
Softly, Vera said, “He wanted to know how you were. And said if you ever asked about him, he wishes he could take it all back and just be friends.”
No wonder she suspected there was more to Rachael and Holden’s relationship. But had he said more than that? Did he feel more? Could someone who could shift from human to wolf—Monster—actually experience remorse, pity, or love?
Vera rested her head on the curve of Rachael’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s just the hopeless romantic in me, but I think you’ll regret it if you don’t give him another chance.”
Oddly enough, Rachael was inclined to agree. Maybe her fear was correct; maybe Holden was someone she ought to push away and keep him there, but how would she know for sure unless she heard his side? In retrospect, all Holden had done was apologize and try to comfort her. Aaron had done all the talking and scheming. And since it was obvious the two disliked each other, it was even possible Aaron had forced Holden to play along, perhaps even going so far as to unveil creepy threats and dominating tactics as Rachael had witnessed.
She didn’t know how or when, but the decision was made right there on her bedroom floor. Eventually, Rachael would have to see him again. She could only pray her fears of imminent death were wrong.
The night did not pass well for her. Long after Vera had drifted into a sweet slumber, Rachael lay in her sleeping bag, staring at the ceiling and wondering if she’d made a mistake by telling Vera her newfound conviction. Though they had dropped the topic of boys for a late-night snack of tater tot casserole leftovers over a game of Scrabble, the image of a forlorn Holden continually warred with her man-to-beast nightmares.
She was still more than happy to allow Vera the bed, but the sleeping bag was thin and old on worn carpet. Boards squeaked beneath Rachael as she tossed and turned. Sleep didn’t deign to comfort her until early morning hours, well after the moon had set.
When she woke a few hours later the bed was empty. One groggy glance at her clock told her it was 9AM. She’d slept in.
She gave a mellow curse as she rose. A quick pat-down of her hair settled most of the fly-aways as Rachael padded to the hallway bathroom. The door was locked. After a moment of listening, she heard Vera’s voice. Is she talking to herself? she wondered.
“. . . sleeping. Yeah . . . no, it was a great night. No, we weren’t up too late. I slept fine. I love her bed. It’d be just like a princess’s if she had a canopy.”
Oh. She was on the phone. Rachael wanted to respect her friend’s privacy, but she also needed to pee. Two gentle knocks got the door open.
Vera blinked at her, and then grinned. “I gotta go. She’s up. Uh huh. Bye, Dad.” Ending the call on her cell phone, Vera slipped past her to give Rachael use of the facilities.
When she was done Rachael found her friend back on the bed, untwining her braids and pulling a brush through her hair.
“You didn’t have to call your dad in the bathroom,” said Rachael.
Chagrined, Vera said, “Actually, I kinda did.” She picked up her phone, tapped it a few times, and handed it to Rachael. “Dad did me a favor.”
Confusion muddled Rachael’s still-sleepy head as she unthinkingly brought the phone toward her ear. “Why would you—?”
“Rolling Field’s Golf Course, how may I help you?”
Holden.
Now she was uncomfortably awake. Vera might as well have dunked her in a tub of ice. Simply the sound of Holden’s voice sent tidal waves of emotions through her blood, ranging from furious to hopeful.
Feeling the idiot for not seeing such an obvious set-up, Rachael clamped a hand over her forehead and tried to think of a reply.
Exasperated, Holden repeated, “Hello? Can I help you?”
It was the beginning of winter and she was sweating. Just when she was certain he would hang up, Rachael said thickly, “Hi.”
For a couple beats there was no reply. Then, softer and with new meaning, Holden repeated himself a third time. “How may I help you?”
Oh, she wanted to giggle and cry at once. Nervously biting her nail to stave off the hysterics and ignoring Vera’s miming for her to stop, Rachael said, “I, uh . . . I wanted to—to talk. To you. Not now. I mean, not on the phone. I just—” Vera’s delighted smile was only making her stuttering worse. Rachael had to face the door before she could finish. “I just wanted to, to um, ask some things. Later. If you can.”
For the horrible moment the line was quiet, Rachael wasn’t certain if she wanted him to say yes or no. She almost backpedaled and said, Haha, just kidding, prank call.
“I can come by Tuesday,” Holden offered. He sounded tentative, as if he believed she would take his words and smash them like crystal on concrete and send the glittering pieces spraying across his heart.
Tuesday only gave her three days to prepare herself. “Okay,” she whispered.
“Thank you for calling,” he replied tenderly.
By the time Rachael hung up her face was boiling. Emitting giddy squeaks, Vera pinned her arms down in a fierce hug. “Ohh, I hope this works out for you!”
Dazed, Rachael detached from her friend and handed her the phone. “Why? You could have had him. . . .”
Still grinning, Vera shook her head. “You didn’t see him. He was so torn up I don’t think Scarlett Johansson would’ve had a chance.”
Rachael had no idea who that was. “Huh.”
“Besides, you were actually friends with him. If I’d really wanted it, I could have talked to him myself instead of asking you.”
Still embarrassed she had never upheld her end of the deal, Rachael said, “I should have at least tried.”
Vera
waved a hand. “Forget about it.”
That sounded like a good idea. “Let’s eat. I can make something.”
Clapping her hands, Vera said eagerly, “You know what sounds amazing? Pancakes!”
There was no pancake mix in the cupboards, but French toast was doable. Rachael set about to cook for the two of them—three when her mother came downstairs at the smell of the coffee Vera started brewing—and all the while she wondered if she would ever eat Holden’s cooking again, and if his heart was pounding with the same deafening dissonance as her own.
Chapter Sixteen
After he hung up, Holden felt as though his heart had taken a shot of Novocain.
The past fourteen weeks had been hell. Finding a job had been the easier portion, even though the golf course brought little to no business once the air turned frosty. Even dropping out of school, while wrenching for obvious reasons, had been comparatively simple. The really hard adjustment had surprised him: his demotion from the pack’s spy to something that was hardly better than invisibility.
So far as Aaron was concerned, Holden was a pup again. No longer was he given free reign of his off hours. When Holden wasn’t working, he was picking Nathan and Roxi up from school or cleaning the house. He even needed a partner to hunt with, an arrangement Roxi was just as displeased with. The only upside to that was her being in wolf form meant she didn’t look like an obnoxious, cheap imitation of Rachael Adair.
In fact, Roxi’s supposedly coincidental new appearance irritated him so much he’d voluntarily brought it up to his alpha—twice. The first time Aaron had blown him off, claiming such matters were no longer his concern. However, after Roxi began serenading Aaron with improvised lyrics such as, “I am your sunshi-i-ine, your only sunshi-i-ine, you should be happy-y-y-y, my eyes ain’t gray,” their inglorious leader privately admitted it was becoming vaguely unsettling.
Aside from that, the matter seemed to go nowhere. Roxi was on Aaron’s heels more than ever. Nathan seemed doubly inconsolable these days, and Holden loathed being in the same living space as them more than ever.
Almost as bad was not seeing Rachael on a daily basis.
Howl of the Sequoia (Secrets of the Sequoia Book 1) Page 15