But all I can think is:
I didn’t realize how damn empty these two weeks were until she filled a single moment of them again.
And if Honey is right—and she usually is—maybe having the balls to reach out was the easiest fix I’ve made in a long damn time.
Fifteen
Holley
Two weeks.
Fourteen days of cold mornings, long work shifts, and trying—not very successfully—not to think about him.
When Tony’s name finally flashed across my phone, something in me unclenched so suddenly I almost sat down on the kitchen floor. And then, after we texted—short, simple, easy in the way only he manages—I spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling wondering why it felt like nothing was on track.
But now that the glow has faded into morning light, I’m left wrestling with the same thing I haven’t said aloud to anyone:
I miss him.
I miss his steadiness.
His quiet humor.
His warmth.
His presence, which fills a room without effort.
And the way being around him made everything inside me stop buzzing for a minute.
I pull his hoodie over my head—yes, I still have it, and no, I’m not giving it back—and grab my keys. I’m halfway out the door before I realize I didn’t lock it behind me last night.
Again.
I swear I thought I did but this is twice I’ve reached for the doorhandle to find it unlocked.
I freeze on the porch, my breath fogging the air.
That feeling prickles at the back of my neck again—the one that’s been haunting me for three days now. Like someone’s eyes are on me. Like I’m not as alone as I thought.
I tell myself it’s just anxiety. Stress. Lack of sleep. But the sensation doesn’t fade. It just settles over me like a warning.
The driveway is empty. The trees are still. The air is sharp and quiet.
But I swear something shifts behind the storage shed at the edge of the property.
A shadow.
A shape.
A flicker of movement I can’t quite focus on.
“Get a grip,” I mutter to myself, gripping my keys like a weapon as I hurry to my car. It’s probably a bear or deer or something.
Still, the unease follows me all the way to work.
The dental office is already a mess when I arrive.
The waiting room lights are off. The blinds are half-closed. The front desk computer isn’t even on. I blink twice, wondering if I somehow read the schedule wrong.
