Page 2 of Hold Me Instead (Elmwood Falls #1)

Zachary

Today could fuck itself in its warped asshole.

While it didn’t surprise him to find her here, recognizing Charlie Harris after all these years, sensing her, only irritated him more.

He couldn’t determine what had clued him in while barely looking her way, but he felt the weight of her stare.

It went more than skin-deep, and that was a firm no-entry zone for Zachary Lee.

“How you holdin’ up?” she asked.

His breath tripped as her soft voice slammed into him, knocking his thoughts into even more of a jumbled mess.

A whole year. That was the last time he’d heard his father’s voice, after Zachary had signed the divorce papers. Their brief conversation was a hollow memory—“ Zachary. How you holdin ’ up?”

“ Fine .”

“ Good, here’s your mother .”

He scoffed. Maybe Charlie was more like his dad than he realized.

More so than him.

Zachary kept his gaze on a muddy streak across the tile. “Fine.” It came out gruff, his disdain echoing in the quiet. It emboldened him somehow, made him feel justified in his anger. What his anger was about at that moment, he wasn’t sure. But he gripped it like a lifeline .

The universe excelled at highlighting his shortcomings.

After a punishing morning run failed to ease life’s bullshit, the jarring call about his father had only disoriented him further.

He’d had enough wits about him to throw some shit in a bag and load up his old dog for a drive from Chicago that took twice the normal time—all to wind up in a stifling waiting room with the woman who represented his terrible life choices.

She slid her hands along her thighs, tapped her knees, and interrupted the silence once again. “Scary morning, huh? Must’ve been awful getting the news over the phone.”

He leaned back and grunted at Charlie’s gentle approach.

Unfortunately, the news about his father being rushed to the hospital came from an uncharacteristically harried voicemail, adding to the pall of everything.

He’d pushed his sister to that tactic, he knew, by ignoring her earlier attempts to reach him, ultimately delaying himself from getting on the road.

His grip had finally eased on the steering wheel once he got the update that his dad was stable and in recovery.

A sharp squeak on tile drew his attention as Charlie crossed her ankles, the bright purply pink tennis shoes a punctuation to his thoughts. He released a long breath, running his hands through his hair, squeezing the misted strands as though that would squash droplets of memories.

Charlie cleared her throat. “The nurse told me his room’s through those double doors out there? Jeanie called the office to let us know the surgery went well, but I haven’t heard many details.”

When his mom’s name fell from her lips, he finally gave Charlie more than a glance.

The features of her face were sharper, matured over their years apart, yet still soft.

Her nose and round cheeks were red against her fair skin, no doubt from the chilly autumn rain.

She wore little makeup, a trait he remembered about her, though something brightened her eyes, staring from her wide tortoiseshell glasses.

She remained still, as though she was holding her breath.

A surge of remorse coursed through him at her obvious discomfort, then amplified when he noticed her Halloween scrubs and cat ears.

Leave it to Charlie to be festive at the clinic.

Damn her and her charming sense of humor .

No , he corrected himself, goofy . Not charming .

Not that the distinction made much difference where she was concerned.

“Halloween’s not for another week,” he said.

Her nod was slow, uncertain. At least she was breathing and blinking now.

“You wore that today?” he asked—accused.

She perched on the edge of her seat, ready to bolt. “ Yee-es ,” she said, lengthening the word into two syllables.

Her eyes darted over him, studying, while he studied her.

Damp wisps of brown hair clung to her face, and small flyaways dried haphazardly, creating a wild nest for the cat ears on her head. The frizz had always bothered her, he recalled, humid Wisconsin summers making the carefree tendrils regularly present.

The comfort their presence brought him made him instantly un comfortable.

He cleared his throat. “Not very professional, dressing in costume for work.” There , regained control .

Her eyes narrowed for the briefest moment. “It’s just a headband. Besides, nothing wrong with being a little playful on the job.” She followed up her response with a too-serene smile. It was a far cry from her normal beam that sparked energy into a room .

Zachary shifted, disturbed he could distinguish between her smiles and intrigued at this glimpse of her bold side.

As far as he was concerned, their friendship had ended the moment he’d moved to Chicago—he’d barely paid her a passing thought since then.

Sure, the latter was largely due to what his father had told him right before he left town.

But the fact she was here didn’t surprise him.

He wasn’t going to avoid the woman, but he wouldn’t pretend they were still friends either.

He tapped his fingers on the armrests. “Isn’t it family only right now?”

“I don’t think—”

“You aren’t family, Harris. No matter how much my dad insists otherwise.”

The silence that met him was satisfying for a split second. A split second, before those wide eyes blinked rapidly away from him, and her confident posture melted. Just a fraction, but it was enough.

He closed his eyes and turned his face. Dick move .

They hadn’t seen each other in years, and this was how he treated her?

She was here to check on his dad. To support his family.

Something he knew she did regularly, whether she had ulterior motives or not.

Which is also bullshit . She doesn’t have a bad bone in her body .

It really sucked that he liked her—he sure didn’t care for himself right now.

He huffed, muttered quiet curses, then said, “That was uncalled for.” It was lacking, but it was the level of apology he could pull from the pit of shit that was his life lately.

She swallowed a few times, then released a quiet, shaky breath, the blinking finally slowing. He stared at his shoes, his attention to her subtle movements putting him on edge .

When he wasn’t talking to her, or seeing her, for that matter, he could hold on to his anger.

For six years, apparently. But now it all felt…

pointless. Today wasn’t her fault, not even this heightened awareness of her.

That had to be due to the instability of the day, some grasp at a positive feeling, or familiarity.

“Your energy reminds me of Mrs. Van Der Wier’s pug,” she finally said.

A surprised chuckle brewed, but he muzzled it. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” he said. He pictured the wrinkly white pup with its permanent scowl, always emphasized by the pet clothing Mrs. Van Der Wier chose for the day. “Which outfit?”

“That velvet smoking jacket. For sure.”

This time, he smirked. “He hated that thing,” he said.

“Mm, always looked his angriest in it,” she said.

He groaned on a small chuckle, knowing her dig was still generous.

When he looked up, she was watching from the corner of her eye again, biting the inside of her cheek.

Pink flushed over her face and down her neck.

She wanted to say something else, her energy palpable, wrapping around him in the tiny room.

The feeling reminded him of their easy rapport, and suddenly, the grudge he held against her—that wasn’t for her at all—evaporated.

In its place was an urgency to mend their friendship, something he desperately needed.

What he didn’t know was whether it was just because he needed hers specifically.

“My Yeh-Yeh had a heart attack when he was fifty,” he blurted.

Zachary hadn’t been born yet to see his grandfather through that time, but the incident had scared his dad enough to start running daily. To encourage Zachary to focus on heart health. He hadn’t realized that had been in the back of his mind until now .

Charlie opened her mouth as if to speak, but the speedy tap of heels interrupted, his sister appearing in the hall.

Zachary leaped to intercept her and squeezed past Charlie.

His shoulder bounced off the framed painting that threatened to consume the room, and she pulled her knees close and knocked into her chair.

But they narrowly avoided contact with each other.

He stepped into the hall and caught Sandra’s elbow, and she startled to attention, weary gaze wide as she took him in. She pressed her lips together, then flung her arms around him.

“You’re here,” she said into his chest, holding tight. Her floral perfume, though faint, soothed with familiarity. He felt her release a deep breath before stepping back. “Have you gone in yet?” she asked, voice low.

“No, just got here. Needed a moment.”

She nodded, her dark brown eyes less vibrant than normal. “I stepped away to call Jay, check on him and the kids. And…needed some air.”

Mascara marred her tawny skin. Her signature curling iron waves fell limp, her black hair nearly straight in its low ponytail. Even her ivory top was wrinkled, untucked from sleek maroon pants.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“It’s been a shit day.” Her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head. “Thank God he’s alright, that they got him into surgery when they did. He was really lucky,” she added on a whisper.

Zachary swallowed, rubbing his hand up and down her silky sleeve. He hadn’t stopped to consider how close it had been. The image of the last time he’d seen his father, the hurt on his dad’s face, flashed through his mind. Pain caused by stupid choices Zachary had made .