“You can if it’s for a good cause. Which it is.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know…”
“Can you please, for one goddamn second, spare a thought for yourself?” Holden demanded with sudden sharpness. “Is that what you want? To be with Violet? Answer me honestly. If you do, then I’ll get out of this truck, and you can drive back to the school and have your dance and wear your crown and carry on, business as usual. Or…”
“Or?”
“Stay with me.”
Goddamn, Holden’s eyes in the light of my cab pierced me, flooded me with possibilities of a life that was closer to what I wanted. Closer to who I was. So close, all I had to do was reach out and touch it. Him…
I swallowed hard, and my fingers typed a text to Violet.
I can’t make it. I’m sorry.
“An excellent choice,” Holden said, now all smiles. “Stay quiet. This neighborhood is filled with stuffy busybodies. I don’t need anyone complaining to my aunt and uncle.”
“You don’t live with your parents?”
“They died in a tragic hot-air balloon accident over the Panama Canal.”
“What?”
“Just kidding. They’re alive and well in Seattle. Unfortunately.”
He kept walking, and I had to hurry to follow. Quietly, we went up the house’s immaculate walk. By the light of his gold Zippo, he punched in a security code on a black console. It made a mechanical sound, and then the door opened a crack.
I followed Holden inside, my heart pounding in my chest, wondering how far I was going to take this time-out.
The foyer was dark, but Holden didn’t turn on any lights. Photos were black squares on the white wall, the faces indistinguishable. The hall opened on an open-concept space: living room flowing into the kitchen. Sleek, modern furnishings overlooked a backyard of pristine white cement and a glittering infinity pool, its underwater lights glowing. Beyond the pool, the entire Pacific Ocean stretched out under a full moon.
“Pretty sweet digs,” I said.
“I’ll say.” Holden went to the fridge and rummaged around. “Ah, perfect. Beer. You like beer, right? Or maybe something harder?”
“I’m driving. Beer’s fine.”
Whatever was happening tonight, I was not going to get drunk withHolden Parish. I’d already let things go further than imaginable. Losing control was not an option.
I shoved my hands in my tuxedo pants pockets. “You going to turn on a light or what?”
“I like it better in the dark,” Holden said with a wicked grin as he handed me a bottle of beer. He went to the living room, where he glanced around in the dimness, searching until he found a minibar. “Ah, here we go. Be a pal and see if there are any olives in the fridge.”
“You don’t know?”
“Do I look like I go grocery shopping?” Holden asked, shaking vodka and ice in a silver mixer.
I found a jar of green olives in the stainless-steel fridge. Just as I started to close it, the yellow light fell over a magnetized family photo on the other door. Mom, Dad, two kids, all with dark hair, all with white smiles beaming from brown skin as they posed in front of a golden temple surrounded by a huge pool of water. A little graphic ran across the bottom:Our trip home! Amritsar, India, Summer of 20—
“Fuck me.”
I shut the fridge door and rejoined Holden in the dim living room, sure that at any moment, spotlights were going to glare on us, and police would shout to put our hands up.
I shoved the olives at Holden. “You don’t live here, do you?”
“Never said I did.”
“Jesus Christ, are they home? Upstairs? What the—”
