“I’ll keep you safe,” Holland adds and it sounds like a throwaway statement. My heart picks up and I feel a little lighter.
When I can’t decide on a cider, the server reminds me about a flight option. So I choose the flight but have the server pick them out—I don’t want to make any other decisions.
I’ve finished my first cider flight when Holland brings up Stella.
“Do you want me to call Stella? I can step outside for a few minutes. Or if you want to listen, we can call her on speakerphone. Your choice.” He’s gentle, caring, and to the point. My face combs his, looking for a sign of annoyance, but I can’t find one.
“What are you going to tellher?”
“I’m going to tell her what I saw. I’ll be vague. And I’ll let her know that we filed a police report on behalf of the lodge. And that he was escorted him off the premises.” My eyes go wide when he mentions the police. “Lastly, I’ll tell her you’re safe and you’ll get a hold of her when you’re ready. Also, she can call the front desk if she’d like another statement from one of our managers.” He’s so calm and together. His words are intentional and he doesn’t waver.
“Did you really file a police report?” Embarrassment floods my cheeks.
“It’s our protocol whenever we have a violent guest. It’s unconventional but I like to be cautious.” It’s like he’s reading my mind.
A violent guest.Violent. That word makes me feel nauseous. The lump in my throat is hard to swallow.
“That doesn’t meanyouhave to file a police report. That’s up to you. You can think about it and decide… when you’re ready.”
I didn’t consider this aspect. I think about Stella and what this could potentially mean for his company and mine. I worry about Holland’s hand and if he’ll be in trouble or feel financial repercussions. How am I in another situation like this? What Holland is saying sounds just like Vivian when I told her about Jack.
Ultimately, I decided not to go to HR. I still don’t know if that was the right decision.
Before I can get sucked into a black hole of what-ifs, a basket of crispy, golden, cheese curds are set on the table.
“You can call Stella,” I say as I hand him my phone with her contact open. “I’ll feel better once that’s done. I’m all set here.” My jaw falls open in pure happiness at the mound of fried cheese. I mostly want to see if he’s going to make the call.
Holland lets out a breath and stands up. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay by yourself for a few?”
“I’m not by myself. I’m with all these people.” I dramatically lookaround the room. “And fried cheese.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll be quick.”
I can’t help but watch him rush out of the restaurant. He looks back at me, before opening the door.
The back corner of the restaurant is getting a lot of attention. A microphone cuts across the music, announcing that it’s karaoke night. People clap and holler.
Our server drops off my second cider flight. “You’re in for some laughs,” he says as he gestures to the stage.
I could use some laughs. Distractions.
The only thing I can think of right now is Holland. Him finding me. Punching Royce. Bringing me here. Talking to Stella. His knuckles cut on the steering wheel. How he held me up. His arms. The man with the tough exterior cracking to be the soft spot I need is such a surprise—and the best part of this whole thing.
At this moment, it feels like he isn’t real. There must be a catch.
My body buzzes from the cider but the panic and anxiety are still within reach. I don’t want to be drunk but want to feel something different.
Here’s what clicks: I’m tired of worrying. Thinking about the big picture. I don’t have it in me to wonder what I did that made Royce do what he did. Or wonder how this whole disaster is going to blow up. I don’t want to worry about tomorrow, or work, or whatever heavy thing happens next.
There’s nothing I can do to change today or this week. It’s happened and that’s it. The restaurant atmosphere is full of happy people. Friends laughing, partners holding hands, and people scouring karaoke lists to pick a song. I want to feel what they’re feeling.
My brain needs a break. Hell, my body and soul need a break.
All I want to do is disassociate with today; I’ll deal with it later.
I keep glancing at the door, waiting for Holland to come back.
Holland opens the door. We make eye contact right away. He nods andwalks toward the table. His sleeves are rolled up to show his forearms. I’m not the only person who notices him.
