“That obvious, huh? It’s something I’ve been working on. I spend a large amount of time taking care of everything and everyone else that I often forget about myself. It’s not new.”
He nods like he understands.
“When’s the last time you did something for yourself ?” he prompts me.
“Umm… Well, after the breakup with Jack, I got a massage. That was a few months ago.” I’m trying to recall something more recent. “Oh! I bought this expensive pillow spray. It makes my bed feel like a sleepy paradise. I’m embarrassed by how much it costs but I love it and now I need it most nights to sleep.” I nudge him playfully.
“Tell me it smells like lavender.” He sounds like he cracked a code.
“Yes! How did you know?” I didn’t expect him to say that.
“Because you’ve smelled like something familiar, but I couldn’t figure it out.” He sighs. “Not in a creepy way, but when we were in the truck with the windows down and the warm air, I kept smelling it.” He’s trying to gauge if I think it’s weird or not.
I don’t think it’s weird at all.
“Your turn. When’s the last time you did something for yourself ?”
“I gave myself tonight off. So I could do this with you.” He leans into me and bumps my shoulder.
“And just because we had that disagreement…”—he struggles to find the words—“it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”
“I know. Honestly, you seem too good to be true.” I say the phrase that’s been on my mind the last day. I look up at him, his dark eyes reflecting orange flecks from the fire. “What’s the deal? Why are you single?” I ask it in a joking manner but still want to know the answer. There must be a reason why Holland is currently spending time with Slate and not a partner.
Holland looks at me before shaking his head and looking around.
“Let me guess, bad breakup? I knew I could feel the tension between you and Bea.” I fake dramatics and put hands on my chest.
He sighs and chuckles at the same time, like he knows he was meant to. It feels forced.
“Ummm, not really a bad breakup.”
“Oh my god! You were engaged and she left you at the altar!?” I gasp.
“I was engaged, but no, not really that—” It feels like my body hits a wall. His voice is nonchalant and level.
He was engaged? Why is this information so jarring?
“Wait. You were engaged? To be married? What happened?!” I press like I’m looking for gossip. I sort of am because I want to know more about him. I told him how I caught my boyfriend having sex with his girlfriend at my place of employment.
He takes a deep breath, gazing at the sky for a second before looking back at me.
“Ivy. This is a sad story.” His leg bounces a little, showing his nervousness. “It also will show you I’m not as good as you think I am.”
This conversation is no longer good fun. It turned quickly. A brief memory flashes. The H tattoo on his arm.The sad story.
“I want to know your stories. Even if they’re sad,” I say as I push myself away from his side so I can make eye contact. “If you want to share, I’m here to listen.” I sit back while he contemplates.
Holland takes another big breath. Rubbing his arms on his knees. His nervousness brings my anxiety to the surface. I hold the mulled wine, so I have something to do with my hands.
“The tattoo you saw the other night? The H? It stands for Hazel. My little sister.” He steadies himself. I can see the color drain from his face. “She died.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
I WONDER IF IVY can hear my heart slamming in my chest. I feel like it’s echoing in the trees—like everyone could hear it if they listened.
Ivy puts her hand on her chest. I don’t have it in me to tell her it gets worse.
On my run today, I knew I’d have to give her something. Open up. Give her more than what I’ve done. One, because she has this current idealistic view of me. Two, because if I want to give this a real chance, this is the first step.
