Tracing Holland (NSB Book 2)

by Alyson Santos

  “I thought I told you to stay away from her, you piece-of-shit!” he hisses, and I manage to stir my glare enough to match his.

  “And I thought I told you she was a big girl and could make her own decisions,” I spit back, moving to the sink as though washing my hands is infinitely more important than anything he has to say. I know I’m making a mistake by stoking the fire, but I’ve never done well with people trying to push me around. I’m the only bully allowed to string myself up.

  “I’m talking to you!” he cries, shoving me away from the sink, and I turn on him with the same fire.

  “Are you fucking serious? We’re going to do this? Fight over a girl in a bathroom? You’re kidding, right?” I bark at him.

  By now, we’re alone and I’m not surprised. We’re acting like raging fools. I want nothing to do with this; I can’t even imagine how little a random bystander wants to participate.

  “Wes, you need to back off, ok? Seriously, just back the fuck off because I’m telling you, this is not going to end well for you. The only reason this has gone on as long as it has is because I have a huge amount of respect for Holland and her band. You’re her band, but take this one step further and I don’t give a shit about the blowback!”

  “I’m not going to let you hurt her! I warned you! She’s special and I’m not going to let you use her and throw her away like another one of your groupie sluts!”

  “You don’t know a damn thing about me! Get out of my face or this is going to end with us both in the hospital!”

  His eyes narrow and his words come out with so much venom I can barely even hear his next phrase.

  “Laurel Karns,” he spits, inches from my face.

  I stare at him in shock. It’s the last thing I’d expected to hear at that moment and throws me so off guard, I’m afraid he can tell he’s just gained the upper hand.

  “Excuse me?” I manage, suddenly unable to draw in enough oxygen.

  “You heard me, bitch. Stay away from Holland. I told you, we know what you are!”

  “How do you know Laurel?”

  “Why does it matter? Laurel isn’t important. It’s the fact that you’re a douchebag who’s about to wreck someone I care about that matters! You’re a fucking loser! Total scum who doesn’t deserve…”

  I see red. I’m not even sure what happens next, I just know it’s bad. I know it makes my fist hurt, then my cheek, then my fist again, then my stomach, my ribs. I know it’s happening again. I know old wounds are ripping open, tearing chunks of flesh out of my consciousness and littering them all over a grimy bathroom floor that’s collected so much of my past over the years.

  I catch a brief flurry of activity in the mirror, two grown men flying at each other, fighting for, I don’t even know what. What am I fighting for? Certainly not my dignity. I threw that away a long time ago. Holland? No. I’m smart enough to understand that this insanity isn’t going to win me any points there, only push me further from any chance of convincing her I’m not this kind of monster anymore. No, I’m just fighting because that fucking fuse blew my head apart and let this idiot derail everything I’ve been working to build. I’m fighting because sometimes no matter how hard you fight it’s not enough and all it takes is the tiniest trigger to explode the landmine.

  It doesn’t last long. I sense neither of us had a clear goal when we started, and at some point I find myself alone again. There’s a sharp pain around my eye, blood dripping from my lip. My right knuckles are swollen and throbbing. My ribs are on fire, but Wes is the one who ran. He looked about how I feel, so I don’t even know who won. I’m pretty sure we’ve both lost, considering the coming fallout.

  I grip the edge of the sink and stare at myself in the mirror. My fingers instinctively rise to the growing welt around my left eye and I wince from the contact. My bottom lip is cracked and I don’t even want to know what my chest looks like. So stupid. Completely ridiculous, and I’m furious about the entire encounter. I know I should be hating that dick Wes right now, and I do, but it’s my own battered reflection that’s haunting me.

  Old Luke woke up bloody and sore on bathroom floors. Old Luke fought over girls and trash-talked puny threats to his manhood. Old Luke embarrassed himself with public displays of primal rage, and here I am, staring into the troubled eyes of Old Luke. The Luke I just fought to prove I wasn’t.

  The door bursts open, startling me from my critique, and I sigh as Casey rushes toward me.

  “What the hell happened? Are you ok? Oh, shit!”

  “I’m fine,” I mutter, pushing away from the sink and grabbing a paper towel. I wet it and hold it up to the burning bruise on my eye.

  Casey collects a couple more and hands me the wad for my lip.

  “So are you going to tell me what happened or am I just supposed to guess,” Casey quips, leaning against another sink to face me.

  “I told you. I’m fine. Can we just let this go?”

  “Let it go? You and Wes just beat the shit out of each other! We’re touring with them! It’s kind of a big deal!”

  I sigh and shake my head. “Seriously, Case, just let it go. We had a misunderstanding. It’s worked out now.”

  He still looks concerned, and I know this placating thing is not going to work on him, but there’s no way I’m getting into the story now.

  “Do you want me to call TJ? I’m sure we can get them kicked off the tour.”

  “No!” I blurt way too fast. “I mean, it’s fine. I had it coming. We both did. Just let it go. We’ll work it out.”

  We’re silenced by a knock on the door, and Casey pulls it open with a wary peek.

  “Is Luke in here?”

  My stomach drops at Holland’s voice.

  “Oh, hey, Holland. Yeah, he’s here.” He lets her in and I brace myself, having no idea what to expect from her.

  “Oh my gosh!” she cries, rushing toward me. “Luke, I’m so sorry.”

  I’m strangely touched by her unexpected apology. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” I assure her, turning back to face my battered reflection, mostly so I don’t have to face her. But she follows and meets my gaze in the mirror.

  “Case, do you mind making sure everyone gets back to the buses? I’d rather not have to see anyone right now.”

  Casey is clearly still concerned. “Are you sure, man? I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “I told you, I’m fine. I just need a few minutes. Please, Case?”

  “Go, Casey. I’ll stay with him and make sure he gets back,” Holland chimes in, and we both glance at her in surprise. She shrugs. “What? I think I can handle a few wet paper towels. I was pre-med after all.”

  I laugh despite the grave moment, then wince from the pain. “Seriously, I’m fine,” I direct back to Casey who rolls his eyes.

  “Yeah, you look fine,” he mumbles. “You sure you got him?” he confirms with Holland, and I grunt.

  “Oh, so you’ll trust her, but not me?”

  “Have you seen your face?” Casey returns, his grin breaking as I curse at him.

  “Shouldn’t you be leaving? Oh, and make sure you take care of the tab!” I call after him, unable to stop my own grin when the last thing I see is his middle finger disappearing through the door.

  Holland laughs before focusing back on me, the mood settling again as she reaches up and gently examines my cheek. “I can’t believe Wes did this.”

  “It took two of us,” I respond quietly, and she meets my gaze.

  “Yeah, but I know he started it.” She draws in a deep breath. “Luke, I’m sorry. It’s partly my fault too. He saw us together on the floor, and I told him to stay out of it and mind his own business. He didn’t like that I basically defended our relationship, defended you. He was out for blood. I could have handled it differently, but I just...”

  “He’s obviously in love with you, Holland,” I interrupt. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear that, but look at my face.”

  She bites her lip and I wonder if I�
�m finally getting through to her. After a long pause, she sighs and takes my hand. “Can we go find a place to talk that’s not the men’s bathroom?”

  “Please,” I agree, eager to escape, and she grabs a few more strips of paper towels.

  “For the road,” she explains with a smile.

  ∞∞∞

  I’m not overly excited about re-entering the club, but we manage to sneak through the crowds into the cool evening air without any more drama. Holland still hasn’t let go of my hand and leads me to a bench about half a block from the entrance.

  She settles against me and we’re silent for a moment, doing our best to absorb the rollercoaster we’ve just endured. “There’s something you should know,” she begins quietly, and I instinctively brace myself. “Wes and I were briefly engaged at one point. The thing is, we realized pretty quickly that we were great friends but terrible lovers. We were young and had grown up together, so the engagement was more of a formality that everyone else expected. Once we had the courage to swear off the expectations, we decided we’d be much better off as buddies and band-mates than spouses. It’s been almost six years and he’s now one of my best friends. He cares about me like a sister and I know he’d do anything for me.”

  “Including punch me in the face,” I mutter.

  “Especially, punch you in the face,” she laughs, and I love the way her eyes shine when she glances up at me. She sighs and grows serious again. “He’s not in love with me, Luke, he’s just protecting me. He believes all the lies about you. He doesn’t have the same faith in people and doesn’t believe you can possibly be the person I’m defending. He thinks I’m falling into the same trap you’ve been trying to protect me from. Ironically, in a twisted way, you and he have been on the same side.”

  I almost smirk. “Careful. You might actually make me not hate the guy.”

  She chuckles and squeezes my arm. “He’s not a bad guy. He’s way off base on this one, and believe me, I’m beyond pissed about what just happened, but his intentions are good. He’s just worried about me and doesn’t trust you. Or, more specifically, my ability to resist you and your legendary charms.”

  I want to argue, but I’m not sure how. She’s right. It is kind of ironic that we’ve both spent the entire tour fighting me for the same reason. “Well, he’s been pretty open about his hatred. He’s been making my life hell since the day we met.”

  “Yeah, I know, and I’m sorry about that, but there’s more to it.”

  I don’t like anything about that sentence. Especially when she draws in a deep breath and I know she’s conflicted about whatever is coming next. “He’s friends with Laurel Karns, Luke,” she explains quietly, and I immediately stiffen.

  “What?” I don’t even know what to do with that statement.

  I pull away from her and suddenly don’t feel the pain of my injuries anymore, not when the pain of my transgressions is suddenly assaulting my conscience like I’d just committed the heinous crime yesterday, not well over a year and a half ago.

  “We were at that after party, too. Geez, everyone was, remember? She sent us messages when you two left together. She was boasting about how she was hooking up with you. When the news broke about Elena the next day…we knew where you were when it happened, what you were doing.” She quiets, and I can’t look at her. I can’t look at anything. I lean on my knees and stare at the sidewalk, completely numb. I don’t want to deal with this right now. I can’t.

  “I’m sorry, I know I should have said something sooner. I started to, a couple times, but then I saw how you’d changed. How much your past already haunts you, and I just couldn’t. I didn’t want you to think I still held it against you. But I should have warned you about Wes.” I can hear her sigh before she takes my hands and forces me to face her again. “I’m the one who broke our agreement, not him. Going on tour with you was huge for us, so we couldn’t pass it up, but Wes made me swear to him that I wouldn’t get sucked in if we agreed to go. I promised I wouldn’t fall for you.”

  Tears burn my eyes and I’m still not sure how to speak. There’s so much I want to say, but the words aren’t forming together in any useful combination. I want to explain Laurel, but there is no explanation, none except the one they already have. There’s no softer truth, no defense, just the cold, hard reality exposing the depths of the monster that created the worst night of my life. The ache mixes with nausea at the fact that this entire time she’s known. She knew the worst of what I was, my darkest secret, and yet she still chose to have faith in me, still fought to bring us to this moment.

  I can’t possibly accept that.

  “Not a second goes by when I don’t regret that night,” I manage, finally. I can hear the pain in my voice, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough for what I deserve. I search her eyes, willing her to understand. Begging her to forgive me for a crime that had nothing to do with her then, but might be critical now. “I would give my life to take it back and meet Elena that night instead of going to that hotel room. I replay that moment, that horrifying mistake, every single day, Holland. Every day!”

  “Yes, but in a way, it did take your life, didn’t it,” she responds, and I almost choke.

  I can’t even begin to respond so I focus back on the concrete again. The ugly, pockmarked, stained sidewalk that lives out its days in functional anonymity as a landing place for the soles of shoes. Sentenced to a destiny of being kicked, stomped, spit upon, and covered with vomit. The fate of a sidewalk.

  I’m startled from my reverie by a hand on my thigh, and glance over to meet Holland’s compassionate gaze. We don’t speak, we don’t have to, and I capture her fingers in mine. I don’t want to let go. I’m tired of fighting her, this, myself. I’m tired of the past weighing down my present, dictating my future. There’s something breaking through, hope, maybe. Something that’s making this constant effort at punishing myself even more exhausting than usual.

  “You know, I could watch you think for hours. It’s fascinating,” she observes suddenly, and I feel the slightest crack of a smile spread across my lips.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Which is probably a good thing because that’s pretty much all I get in these conversations.”

  My smile widens into a grin, and I finally dare a look back at her. Her own eyes are alive with humor, and I actually suck in my breath at the effect of her light on my scarred soul.

  “I just gave you an entire paragraph. That was a full-on legitimate speech.”

  “Yep.” She drops the simple word between us for effect, and this time I actually laugh.

  “Yep,” I echo, sliding my arm around her. It was the right move, and I love how effortlessly she settles against me.

  “Hey, Luke?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I have one more secret.”

  “What’s that?”

  She glances up at me. “You should know that I’m going to be taking your newfound virginity as soon as we get to Philly.”

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  September 23-27

  I’m at her door the second we receive our room assignments from Kenneth. I barely even drop my hand from knocking.

  “Thank god,” Holland breathes, pulling me inside and pushing me up against the solid wood.

  We attack each other with a hunger that’s been building since that first longing glance, the first time our bodies committed to what our brains would fight for days.

  My shirt is on the floor before I even realize it’s moving, my jeans unbuttoned as we maneuver toward the bed. Sixteen months. Her mouth is tangling all coherent thoughts in my head, blurring them into a blinding white light as her hands slide over me, forcing my body to surrender to her every command. It’s hers, every muscle, every nerve, and when we finally make it to the bed, I can’t help but wonder how I managed to stop this from happening so many times. I don’t know if I should admire or skewer myself for the lunacy.

  “You’re in your head again,” she warns. �
��Stop thinking.”

  I smile against her lips and let her shove me down. She tugs at my jeans, and I help kick them off before flipping her over to return the favor. She grins as I work at her straps and clasps, then pulls me back to her once we’re both free of the final barriers.

  Our kisses are more fervent now, more urgent in their need to connect us in the impossible. We know we can’t get close enough, not like this, but it doesn’t stop us from trying.

  “Damn, you’re beautiful. Perfect,” I observe, suddenly pulling back and gazing down at the goddess beneath me.

  “Not as beautiful as we are together,” she returns, lacing her fingers with mine and kissing them.

  My heart is ready to explode, along with every other inch of me if I don’t do something soon, and I move back to meet her mouth. She hasn’t let go of my hand, and I push it above her head, clasped firmly in mine. I won’t let go this time. I hold on, even as my other hand freely explores her incredible body.

  She clenches her eyes shut as my fingers move over her, gently at first, then more deliberate as I read her reactions. Her slight groan sends my own blood searing through me, and when she arches to receive my touch, the fire nearly consumes me. I need this woman. I need to be inside her, to intertwine my essence with hers. I need…

  I freeze.

  For one minute and forty-seven seconds, I was with Holland Drake. For one minute and forty-seven seconds, I didn’t think about Elena Barrett Craven.

  “Luke? Luke, what is it?”

  Holland’s staring up at me, her beautiful eyes…I blink, completely paralyzed. I’m still on top of her, still present, still desperate for her, but suddenly, I’m somewhere else too. I don’t know where, just that my body wants to do something that’s tearing my brain apart.

  “Luke. Hey!”

  I try to shake off whatever is happening and stare back down at Holland. She doesn’t seem angry, just concerned.

  “I’m sorry, I…” Words start to come out. I hope they make sense. They’re…Elena. I can’t even think now. Her face has occupied every recess of my head. Elena…oh god, the guilt. The self-hatred. The anger. It all comes rushing back. I’m about to betray her. But it’s not a betrayal, is it? It can’t be forever, right?