“Holly?” Her mama’s voice interrupted her tortured reverie. “Are you coming?”
Tucking her fringe away from her eyes, Holly darted a look at the screens above the stage. Four minutes. Where was he?
She gave her mama an apologetic smile. “I was kinda waiting to sit with Colt.”
“All right.” Leaning in with a burst of Estee LauderBeautiful, Mama pressed a kiss to her cheek. Mama was used to her sitting with this friend or that as the mood struck, so waiting for Colt wouldn’t spark any questions. “Come find me if you change your mind. I’ll be with–”
“Mrs. Lenora, I know.” Holly hugged her, smiling into the scented folds of her neck above Mama’s flowy burgundy cardigan. Some things never changed, and like her perfume of choice, her mama sitting in church with Tick’s mama was one of them. This morning, she needed that anchor. “I will.”
Mama bustled away, and Holly expelled a slow breath, trying to still the twisting clench of nerves in her stomach. She tapped a foot against the 80s-blue carpet.
The tall center door swung open behind her, spilling bright sunlight across the floor. Mr. Johnny’s laugh boomed, followed by a familiar deep drawl murmuring a good morning, and Holly sagged with relief. Pinning on her most sparkly smile, the one she used with difficult pet parents, she spun to face him.
He looked good, even though the little lines of weariness about his eyes indicated he might not have slept well. Thismorning, his navy blazer topped his microchecked blue-and-white shirt over dark jeans and, of course, those handmade boots he loved. This morning, he looked steady and focused, a little tired, but like the best thing she’d ever seen.
She met him halfway across the near-empty foyer, only the security team and a few of the deacons lingering. “You’re late.”
One corner of his mouth moved in a lazy grin that didn’t quite reach his brown eyes. “I’ve got three minutes til the first worship song starts.”
“Oh, my Lord, Colt, come on.” She tucked her arm through his, nudging him toward the sets of doors leading to the sanctuary, sogratefulhe was here and okay, long and lean and warm, hip bumping hers as they walked.
Let the deacons give them that scandalized look.
A few empty spots dotted the pews behind the youth group, all the back rows full, of course. At the fourth one from the rear, he stood aside to let her enter first then stepped in at her side. Down the bench, Trace and Sara sat with their little girl Kaydee, and David and Lorraine had the row before them, DJ and Butler on either side of David, Ethan snoozing on Lorraine’s shoulder.
The worship team launched into the first song, thirty seconds early, and Holly let go of a relieved sigh. Being late for church was worse than being tardy to Mr. Davis’s class. Didn’t he know that?
And Lord, she was glad he was here, looking mostly like himself.
She didn’t need the screen, since she knew the lyrics by heart. Aware of his arm next to her shoulder, his sonorous voice wrapping around the words of the song, she let her gaze skip over the crowd. Del and Chuck’s families filled out the two pews around Mama and Mrs. Lenora. Tori was with the college kids and–
Her gaze collided with Scott’s, his blue eyes narrowed and sharp, even across the center section. His daddy stood next to him, Mackey on the other side. No Andrea this morning?
Mouth tight, Scott glanced from her to Colt and back again. She refused to drop her gaze, despite the condemnation burning in his. They were not anything but friends any longer, and she did not care what he thought. He would prevaricate, try to make his disapproval about Tick, but they both knew it wasn’t. She lifted her chin.
He’d chosen. She was free to get on with her life, as much as he was.
Next to her, Colt’s voice ceased, dragging her from the visual battle. Tension vibrated at her shoulder, in his biceps, and she darted a look up at him. His hard gaze rested on her face, a grim set to his mouth. Hands jammed in his pockets, he moved his attention back to the screen with a deliberate air of dismissal. He picked up the song again, his tone flatter than she’d ever heard him sing, all of the richness drained away.
Her stomach hollowed out. Twisting her fingers together, she scanned the lyrics, trying to pick up the flow, find her place.
Even the opening prayer didn’t settle her raw uneasiness, and she struggled through the turn-and-greet part of the service, talking to Mrs. Joyce behind her while Colt stepped across the aisle to greet the Adamses. When he stepped in beside her once more and the announcements began, she flicked a glance up at his stern face.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Not here.” He bit each word off, sharp syllables cutting and making her flinch. “Not now.”
She subsided, and when they sat for the sermon to begin, he arranged his body to place a careful, very thin gap between their bodies. Although she loved to hear Bruce preach, she missed theentire message, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, fingers clenched in her lap. His hands remained still, a palm flat on either thigh.
The separation remained through the altar call and final hymn, the closing and dismissal. Lingering in the foyer, trying to carry on a conversation with anyone defined difficult, earning her a probing look from Lorraine.
Of course, her mama was having Sunday dinner at Mrs. Lenora’s, and of course, she received an invitation. She flustered about with uncharacteristic uncertainty, gaze darting to Colt a few yards away, dark head bent while he listened to Sue before his parents turned to leave.
“Mama, I don’t know yet.” Her inability to provide a definitive answer resulted in earning her an assessing look from Mona as well. Sighing at Mona’s pursed lips, Holly abandoned her dithering and sighed before lowering her voice. “I need to talk to Colt first.”
Arms crossed, Mama arched a perfectly shaped and penciled brow. “Really.”
“Yes, Mama.” Holly restrained herself from rolling her eyes. She would not act like a teenage girl with her mother. “Really.”
