I’m unable to answer all of those questions, but I can hope.
I can hope she feels like she belongs here. I can hope she is willing to build her life here instead of her hometown. I can hope she agrees to end up here, even if she can’t put off the rest of her road trip.
It’s a lot of hope to maintain. The whole thing is scary, but the thought of not having Hollyn in my life, of her not being part of my future, is even more terrifying.
Now that I’ve had a taste of that life, I’ll never be able to let it go.
As we’re walking past Furrylicious, a pet store that also offers grooming and obedience training, my woman’s eyes light up. I can’t help but ask, “Do you have a pet waiting for you in Seneca Falls?”
Hollyn’s mouth twists down into a frown as she shakes her head slowly. “I don’t. We never had a pet growing up and I never pushed for one. Honestly, I got my fill of animals by going out to Montana’s ranch. They had all the animals I could handle,” she tells me with a chuckle. “It was fun though.”
“It seems like you want a pet, why not get one now?”
She shrugs one shoulder and glances up at me, her green eyes unreadable. “I don’t know,” she murmurs. After letting out a deep sigh she shakes her head. “That’s not true, I do know. Eventhough I could work from home all the time, I didn’t spend a lot of time in my little apartment. I spent my time with Hillary. Sometimes it was at her family’s home. Sometimes it was at the hospital. In the end, it was a small skilled nursing facility a few towns over.” She gnaws on her lip before breathing out, “I didn’t want a pet to feel neglected because there were times when I didn’t go back to my place for days. It would have been cruel.”
The pain in my woman’s voice guts me and I stop on the sidewalk and pull her into my arms without really thinking about it. This woman amazes me.
She built her entire adult life around being there for her best friend. I don’t know anyone who would have done the same. She built a career around it. She held off on things she wanted because of how much devotion she had toward Hillary.
Her face is buried against my chest as her arms wrap around my waist, not caring that we’re in the middle of the sidewalk, not caring about anything other than melting against me. After she takes a deep breath, her breathing, which had started to become ragged, steadies.
I hate her being upset. It slices through me like a sword.
“I don’t know where I’m going to end up when this road trip is done,” her words are muffled against my chest, but I hear them.
And I have no fucking idea what to say in response. I know what I want to say.
I want to tell her she belongs here, in Storyville. With me.
I want to tell her she’ll always have a place here. With me.
I want to tell her she doesn’t have to look any further.
But I don’t say any of it.
Because she’s not ready to hear it.
She’s using this road trip as an excuse and a way for her to run from her grief. I can’t be the one to pop the bubble for her. Not yet.
After a few minutes, she pulls back from me and looks up into my eyes. I can almost see the plea there to tell her what to do, to give her purpose and direction. But it’s hiding behind independence and promises she’s not going to break anytime soon.
We keep walking and pass by the tattoo shop, The 4 Kuzin'S. When she looks up at me with questions in her eyes, I shrug.
“It’s an odd name, but it’s owned by four cousins. Don’t let the name fool you, they do excellent work.”
Hollyn’s eyes roam over my body before she bites her lip and looks through the large picture windows of the tattoo shop again. “I don’t have a tattoo, but I’ve thought about getting one,” her words are an offer to get to know one of her secrets.
And I don’t let it pass me by.
“Oh? What would you get?” There’s a challenge in my question, a dare that she won’t answer me.
But I know she will.
My woman loves to rise to a challenge. It’s something I learned about her almost right away.
“I don’t know,” she muses before winking at me, “it’s most of the reason why I haven’t gotten anything. Hillary loved lilies, so maybe something with that?”
When I wrap an arm around her shoulders and tuck her into my side, she relaxes. The feeling of touching her is one I hopenever gets old. It would be a huge fucking shame, and I can’t imagine a world where it happens.
